‘Now King Mānabhanga was addicted to eating meat. Everything else that a person might eat tasted like straw to him. One day the cook was inattentive and a cat stole the meat that he was going to cook. He could not find any other meat, so he killed a child and cooked him. The king tasted the dish and asked, “Why is the meat so tender and delicious today?” The cook told him the truth. The king in his lust for flesh gave the cook this order, “You must have one prominent citizen killed every day and you must cook his flesh.”
‘As this command was carried out, the townspeople turned against the king. A man who does evil is his own enemy; it is only natural that others will hate him, too.
‘One day this thought entered the mind of King Mānabhanga, “Is this kingdom firmly established in my line, or is it not?”
‘At that moment a fierce wind blew, like the wind at the end of time, destroying all the trees, as Death destroys all hopes and aspirations.
‘The sky was covered with the dust raised by the wind, so that nothing could be seen, even gross objects like poles seemed to have fled in fear.
‘Darkness, like delusion, spread everywhere, blocking the line of vision, cleverly turning diverse objects into one indistinguishable mass.
‘All at once clouds, like wicked men, were everywhere, thundering; lightning flashed, terrifying like the tongue of the God of Death.
‘At that instant the king beheld a goblin and his wife in the sky. The duo were chatting to each other, much to the king’s great terror and surprise.
‘The male goblin said, “O lotus-eyed lady! Let me tell you something that will happen in the future.” The goblin’s wife said, “My love, tell me. I am all ears.”
‘The goblin said, “There is no doubt that King Mānabhanga will fall in just a few days, laden with his many sins of killing living beings.”
‘The goblin lady asked, “Husband, then who will be king here?”
‘The goblin said, “Listen, lovely one! I will tell you right now. That man who will go against the order of the king, who will subdue the best of elephants, and who will abduct the princess Kanagavaī, will be our fine king.”
‘When they had finished this conversation, the goblin pair disappeared. The wind died down. The king had heard what the goblins said; in his mind he was seized with the fear of dying. He gave this order to the city guards, “You must put to death any man who transgresses my commands.”
‘Now spring came, achatter with the lovely sounds of the cuckoos, that were like the bard of King Love, proclaiming everywhere his great victories.
‘The sun with its gentle rays stayed in the north, while even at night a wind blew from the south, fragrant with the perfume of sandalwood.
‘The forest was even more beautiful, decked out in new rosy buds, like a lovely lady decked out in a fine red robe, ready for her husband.
‘Mango shoots with clusters of bees looked like the blazing flames of passion, ringed with smoke.
‘On such a spring night, Abhayasīha was returning from the temple, where he had just seen a dramatic performance. A city guard stopped him, “Sir, halt! Stop a minute. Identify yourself. Who are you?” Abhayasīha did not stop. The guard commanded him to stop in the name of the king. Abhayasīha retorted, “Order your own father about in the name of your king!”, and kept right on walking. The city guard unsheathed his sword and ran after him, screaming, “Kill that one! Kill that one!” Seeing him in hot pursuit, Abhayasīha made himself invisible and escaped. The guard was perplexed. The next morning he told the king what had happened. The king said, “What kind a man are you, not to catch him? You’re not a man, you’re a eunuch!”
‘On another occasion the royal elephant, mad with rut, uprooted the post to which it was tied and broke loose. It terrorized the city. Now the king had a daughter Kanagavaī, “The Golden One”, whose lovely complexion must have put the metal gold to shame. What else could explain why gold is so often melted down by fire; surely, it must willingly immolate itself, humiliated by its defeat! Kanagavaī was on her way back from the garden, having worshipped the God of Love, when the mad elephant spotted her. He charged at her and managed almost to grab her. Her retinue began to shout, “Is there anyone in this world who can save our mistress from this terrible elephant, as if from the clutches of the God of Death himself?” As Fate would have it, Abhayasīha heard their cry. Out of compassion he rushed to the spot, shouting, “Scoundrel! You are what your name says; elephant or outcaste, both are the same word! Are you not ashamed to kill a woman?” With those words he struck the elephant on the hind quarters with his fist that was as hard as a thunderbolt. The elephant let go of the princess and began to charge at Abhayasīha. Abhayasīha grabbed him and whirled him around. When the elephant was thoroughly exhausted he jumped onto its back. He grabbed the elephant goad and jabbed it into the elephant’s temples. Having brought the elephant under his control he headed for the palace. Word began to circulate among the crowd, “That heroic man is the son of Piyamitta.” The daughter of the king looked at him with desire in her eyes.
‘Abhayasīha reached the palace; all along the way he was honored by the women of the city with garlands of lotuses. The king saw him and thought to himself, “Judging from his valour and his looks, I would say that he will rule this kingdom. Still, I mustn’t give up.” And so he commanded his best soldiers, “A mere merchant’s son has tamed my elephant. That is an insult to me and to my elephant. Kill him.” In the meantime Abhayasīha had brought the elephant back to its post. As he dismounted from the elephant, the warriors rushed at him, shouting, “Kill him! Kill him!” He became invisible and vanished. The warriors, perplexed, retreated. They told the king, “He vanished, just as we were about to strike him.” The king said, “You are also a bunch of eunuchs!”
‘One day the servant Vasantasenā told the king the state that Kanagavaī was in and this set the king to thinking. Here is what she said:
‘“Kanagavaī has seen painted portraits of so many handsome princes, but none of them has made her heart stop.
‘“But as soon as she saw him, she fell in love with Abhayasīha, son of Piyamitta, who saved her from the mad elephant.
‘“I told her, ‘Fawn-eyed lady! He is unworthy of you, a mere merchant’s son!’ But the princess replied, “I am sure that he is the son of someone from the warrior class.
‘“If he were not, how could he have subdued the raging king of elephants, that was like the God of Death himself? A person’s nobility of birth is proclaimed by the nobility of his deeds.
‘“In truth, if he were not a prince, how could be have stolen my heart? When people are in doubt they must rely on what their hearts tell them.
‘“What is more, were I to love someone else, when it was he who rescued me from the danger posed by the elephant, when it was he who gave me my very life, then I would truly be an ingrate.”’
‘When he heard all of this the king thought, “I still have to kill that fellow.” With Vasantasenā right there, he commanded the guard, “Bring Abhayasīha, son of Piyamitta.
He has saved the princess from the danger posed by the elephant. I must reward him.” The guard went and conveyed the king’s command. Abhayasīha, knowing that the king was against him, nonetheless thought, “The demi-goddess, who was my mother in her past birth, will make sure everything comes out just fine.” And so he went to see the king. The king handed him over to his soldiers, thinking, “I will kill him at night when no one is around.” They guarded him well. Early the next morning Abhayasīha made himself invisible. The soldiers could not see him, even though he was right there. They said to each other, “He must have fled.” The king overheard them. Thinking, “I must take care lest he abduct my daughter,” the king hastened to the rooftop apartments of the palace, where Kanagavaī stayed. The king fell asleep there and dreamt that Abhayasīha had grabbed Kanagavaī by the arm and was making off with her. The king unsheathed his sword and shouted, “Where do you think you are going?” In his anger he forgot th
at he was on the rooftop and he fell from the building. Before he even hit the ground he was dead. Everyone in the town shouted out with joy, “The wicked one fell by himself.”
‘As the ministers were debating whom to place on the throne, the demi-goddess spoke to them from the sky, “Place Abhayasīha, son of King Vīrasena, on the throne.” They all agreed and crowned him king. He married Kanagavaī. Having conquered all of the feudatory states, he spent his days enjoying his rule over the kingdom, which never disappointed him, and which gave him everything that he needed to accomplish the three aims of human life, the acquisition of wealth, the pursuit of sexual pleasures, and the perfection of the religious life.
‘One day the thought suddenly occurred to him, “What did I do in a previous life that enabled me to get through all of my misfortunes and ultimately attain this happiness of ruling over a kingdom?” A Jain monk named Nānasūri, who had exceptional knowledge, came to the city. The king bowed down to the monk and asked him if he could answer this question. The monk explained, “In a previous life you were once about to kill a rabbit, but you did not kill it and you renounced completely the taking of any life. That is why although you went through a time when you had troubles, you eventually attained this happiness of ruling over a kingdom.”’ At that the king remembered his past birth and he became a pious Jain layman. He supported the Jain mendicants and forbade the taking of life throughout his kingdom. In time he died while intent on meditating on the Jain truths and was reborn in the realm of the gods.
(from the Kumārapālapratibodha of Somaprabhasūri, p.33)
9
DURGILĀ
To dissuade her husband, Jambūsvāmin, from leaving her and her co-wives, Padmasenā said to him, ‘What happens to people depends entirely on the deeds that they have done. And so you should not renounce this world, but should stay and enjoy yourself with us. What more need I say? There are many examples that could be given to show that one should or should not renounce the world. Listen to this story of The Clever Lady of the Anklet and the Jackal.
‘“There was a goldsmith named Devadatta in the city of Rājagrha. He had a son named Devadiṇṇa. Devadiṇṇa was married to a woman named Durgilā. She was a brazen one, no doubt, and a great beauty. One day she went down to the river to bathe, inflaming with passion the minds of all the young men just by her tantalizing glances. Every inch of her body was covered in gold jewellery and her bright clothes glittered in the sunlight. She made the very bank of the river glow, like some river goddess incarnate. Displaying her two breasts, which were like the fortress of the God of Love, that ample-bosomed lady very slowly took off her clothes. She gave her blouse and her skirt to her friend and then that slender woman proceeded down into the water, with nothing more than a thin bodice covering her breasts. They say that the God of Love was once burnt to ashes by Śiva, but she seemed to revive him fully. Chatting gaily with her friends, she swam from one bank of the river to the other, like some graceful swan. The river seemed to embrace her like a long-lost friend with its wave-like hands that reached out to her from afar. Her eyes darted here and there like the eyes of a frightened doe, and in her eagerness to have some fun in the water she cut through its surface with her hands, like a boat with its oars. As she bathed in the river she scattered the water with her hands, which as they moved looked as lovely as lotuses dancing in the current. As she swam about, her single garment slipped and her hair came loose, while her lips were wet; all in all she looked like a woman just come from the bed of her lover. Some young city-slicker just happened to see her enjoying herself in the river there, looking like some demi-goddess in the water. She had on only a thin garment which was wet and clung revealingly to her body, and that young man felt the stirrings of desire when he looked at her. He called out to her with this verse, ‘The river asks you,’ ‘Are you enjoying your swim? and these trees ask you the same. Likewise, I ask you, bowing my head at your feet.’ She replied with this verse, ‘Hail, O river! And all the best, O trees. I am at your service, all of you who ask about my swim.’
‘“The young man heard her words, which were like a rain of heavenly nectar, making his desire sprout like a blossoming vine. He stood there, rooted to the spot, as if in obedience to the command of his king. And as he stood there wondering, ‘Who is this woman?’, he saw some children under a tree. They were looking up at its branches, trying to figure out how they could reach the fruit hanging high above them. The young man took a clod of earth and pelted the branches, making the fruit fall to the ground with a loud thud. The children were delighted when he gave them all the fruit they could possibly want, and seeing his chance, he asked them, ‘Who is that woman bathing in the river? Where does she live?’ In the meantime, Durgilā, thinking only of that young man, finished her swim and went straight home. Day and night both of them kept thinking, ‘On what night, on what day, in what place, at what moment shall we meet again?’ The young man and the young woman suffered pangs of longing for each other and yearned to be together, like the famed cakravāka birds, who must endure separation from each other each night. And thus they remained, madly in love with each other, for quite some time.
‘“One day the young man approached a certain nun, who had been the salvation of many a wanton woman. He won her over by such things as serving her sumptuous meals, and then proceeded to say, ‘The daughter-in-law of Devadatta and I are madly in love with each other. Just as the Goddess Fate brings people together, I implore you to bring us together. I approached her once myself and spoke to that lady with lovely eyebrows and I know that she wants me, too. It should be easy for you to fix things for us.’ The clever nun agreed to act on the young man’s behalf and proceeded to Devadatta’s house under the guise of seeking alms. There she saw the daughter-in-law of the goldsmith, busy putting a pot onto the stove. She wasted no time in delivering her message, ‘A certain young man, handsome as the God of Love himself, longs to be your lover. He has sent me, O lady with lovely eyes, do not turn me away. Do not waste your youthful beauty; make it count by taking a man Who is your equal in looks, age, wit, intelligence and every other quality. Ever since he saw you bathing in the river, O lovely one, he has been like a crazy person; he does nothing but sing your praises. Not even the name of another woman passes his lips.’
‘“Durgilā wanted to conceal her feelings and so she cleverly rebuked that nun, shouting at her these harsh words, ‘O bald-headed one! Are you drunk that you speak to me in this way? Though I am a woman of good family you speak to me as if I were some slut. O unworthy lady, what are you anyway, a whore yourself, taking everyone else for the same? Get out of my sight. May I never see you again. It is a sin for me just to see you, never mind speak to you!’ The nun, having been harshly rebuked by Durgilā, turned to go. Durgilā then pressed her soot-stained hand on the nun’s back as if on a white wall. The nun had no idea what Durgilā intended, and she angrily went back to that would-be adulterer and scolded him in turn with these harsh words:
‘What a liar you are, telling me “the lady loves me”! That woman is full of herself; why, she thinks she is the very incarnation of wifely chastity. She treated me like a dog. I was a useless go-between, you fool, for you sent me to a woman who is of noble birth and deed. Even the best painter needs a proper wall to paint on. What’s more, she was busy in the kitchen and in her anger she slapped me on the back with her soot-stained hand.’ When the rogue insisted, the nun showed him the black mark that Durgilā had made on her back. The young man thought to himself, ‘Surely this is a secret message that she intends to meet me on the fifth day of the dark half of the month, for she has made a mark in black on this nun’s back with all five of her fingers. She really is a clever one, to let me know in this way on what day we shall meet. Courage, courage, I must take heart! But for some reason she hasn’t told me where we shall meet. That puts a stumbling block in my path, to be sure.’ He spoke again to the nun. ‘You did not understand what she was trying to do. There is no doubt of it, she loves me,
too. You must go there once more and ask her again to meet me. Mother, do not give up. Courage is the root of all success.’ The nun replied, ‘She is a chaste woman; she does not even want to hear your name. Your wish is as hopeless as is the prospect of getting water from dry land. While the successful outcome of your desires is in doubt, there can be no doubt about the way she will treat me. But I’ll go anyway, even though I know it is no use.’ With those words the nun hastened once more to see the daughter-in-law of the goldsmith. She spoke to her once more, with words dripping with honeyed nectar, ‘Make love with that young man, who is worthy of you in looks. Pluck the ripe fruit of your youth. That is what the young should do.’ Durgilā yelled at the woman and then grabbed her by the neck, as if in anger. She threw her out of the house, pushing her through the back gate that leads to a grove of aśoka trees.
‘“The bald nun was consumed with shame and covered her face with her robe. In her distress she rushed back to tell the young man what had happened. ‘She insulted me this time, too, just like she did last time. She grabbed me by the neck and shoved me out the back gate, right into the middle of a grove of asoka trees’ The clever young man thought to himself, ‘Now she has given me the sign that I am to meet her in the midst of the aśoka grove.’ He told the nun, ‘Blessed One! Forgive me for putting you through this. I am sorry that that wicked woman insulted you this way. You need not go to her anymore for me.’
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 10
