If in this way the finest sweets turn into a foul odour, then won’t this body, too, become nothing but a pile of stinking odours?
Even though the body may be anointed with fragrant unguents like perfumes made from the rare musk of the musk deer, all of these perfumes can turn in an instant into a foul stench. Behold, this is the way of worldly things.
In this way Sweet-freak came to think of everything in the world as impure, and he abandoned all his royal accoutrements, his horses and his elephants, and became a Jain monk under a proper teacher. He made the firm resolve never again to eat rich and dainty fare.
For it is said:
A king may give up great wealth in a second, while a miserable foolish beggar clings to his coarse fare.
Sweet-freak, now a Jain monk, performed great austerities and soon came to have great knowledge; he awakened many fortunate individuals to the truth. Eventually he came to Mount Śatruñjaya. There, concentrating on auspicious thoughts, he reached Omniscience and attained Ultimate Perfection.
(from the Śatrunjñyakalpavrtti of Dharmaghosa, p.68)
20
NALA AND DAMAYAṂTĪ
The Jain monk Hemacandra explained to King Kumārapāla: ‘A person addicted to gambling loses everything he has, just like Nala, who lost his entire kingdom.’ The king asked, ‘Who was that Nala?’ The monk replied, ‘Listen.’
‘There is in this land of Bharaha, in the country of Kosala, a city called Kosalā. There is something strange and wonderful about this city, if you are clever enough with words to spot it; for were I to tell you that you need to be virtuous to live in the city of Kosalā, you could twist my words to make them say that in the city of Kosalā virtues were the direct cause of vices, an unusual situation indeed! King Nisaha ruled there; he was from the famous lineage of the Ikkhāgu. He was a just ruler, possessed of incomparable bravery and generosity, and a scourge to his enemies. He had two sons from his queen Sundariī; their names were Nala and Kūbara, and they brought joy to the minds of all the people. There is also a city named Kundina, ornament of the land of Vidabbha. There reigned King Bhīmaraha, who destroyed his enemies as the mythical Śarabha beast is said to destroy lions. He had a queen Pupphadamtī, who was the blossom on the tree of his entire harem. As they enjoyed pleasures together a daughter was born to them, who was the ornament of all of the three worlds, heaven, earth and the netherworld.
‘She was born with a beauty mark on her forehead, radiant like the orb of the sun, like the auspicious mark that is said to adorn the chest of great men.
‘When she was still in her mother’s womb, her father conquered all his enemies, and so he named her “Damayamtī”, “Conqueress”. She grew up, a source of joy to all the people who saw her, like the waxing crescent of the moon. In time her parents entrusted her to a teacher of the traditional arts.
‘Her teacher was only the witness to the process as knowledge of all the arts just naturally appeared in her mind, as a reflection appears on the surface of a mirror.
‘Through her service to the Jain ascetics, she became a pious lay Jain, skilled in understanding the vicissitudes and nature of karma, though such things are difficult to grasp.
‘She explained the Jain doctrine to her mother and father in her sweet voice and they, too, came to have faith in the Jain doctrine.
‘The Goddess of Liberation, moved by her great merits, gave her a golden image of the future Jina Sāmti and told her, “My child! You must always worship this image.” Damayamtī accepted the image and began to do just that. She soon became a young woman, the time of life that is like a pleasure grove for the God of Love. When her parents saw that she was growing up, they thought:
‘“She is unparalleled in her beauty; one has to marvel at the creator’s skill to have been able to fashion such a splendid creature.
But there is no suitable mate for her, equal to her in physical beauty. Or if there is, we do not know who he might be. It is best to summon all the eligible princes and arrange for her to choose her own mate. That way at least she cannot blame us for having chosen an unsuitable husband for her.”’
‘And so they dispatched messengers and summoned kings and princes. They all came, accompanied by their armies of elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers. Nala, too, of incomparable valour, arrived for the ceremony in which Damayamtī would choose her husband. The kings and princes were all suitably honored by King Bhīma and lodged in excellent quarters. A special pavilion was constructed for the ceremony; it was adorned with gold pillars, and in its splendour was capable of putting an end to the pride that the gods felt in their own palaces. The whole pavilion seemed to strike up a dance with its flags that swayed in the wind. The pavilion was equipped with well-fashioned lion thrones; from the rays of their many jewels shimmered rainbows of variegated light. One after another the kings and princes sat down on these thrones, each one trying to outdo the other in his show of wealth and power. They then began to reveal by their various gestures just how smitten they were with Damayamtī.
‘Damayamtī’s father then invited her into the assembly; she came, adorning the pavilion with her loveliness; her forehead was decorated with the beauty mark from which emerged a garland of light rays, and she shone like the eastern sky, cradling the newly risen sun; her face was radiant, making her look like a full-moon night, beautified by the full disc of the moon; with her full breasts she resembled a lake for the God of Love to dip in, with a pair of love birds floating on its surface; her hands and feet were rosy pink, like lotuses; her tender body was like a kankeli creeper with tender new buds; wearing a garland of large pearls she resembled a sprig of jasmine adorned with fully opened blossoms; she wore clothes of the finest white diaphanous silk, which made her look like the Beauty of the Heavens incarnate, veiled in the thin wispy clouds of autumn; she cast her alluring glances here and there, stirring up the atmosphere, as the ocean is stirred up by schools of fish that dart in and out of its waters. When the assembled kings saw her they were struck with wonder and their eyes all fell upon her.
‘At the command of the king, the harem servant Bhaddā began to describe the valour of the kings and princes to Damayamtī. “This is the King of Kāsī, whose arms are mighty and strong; choose him as your husband if you wish to see the river Ganges with its lofty waves!”
‘Damayamtī answered, “O Bhaddā, I have heard it said that the inhabitants of Kāsī are given to cheating others and so my mind takes no pleasure in this one. Please, keep going.”
‘Bhaddā did just that and said, “This is the lord of Kumkana, a lion to destroy elephants in the form of his enemies; his name is Lion. Choose him and you will enjoy yourself in the summers in groves of plantain trees.”
‘Damayamtī said, “Bhaddā! The Kumkans have a reputation for being easily angered. I could never keep him happy all the time. Tell me about someone else.’
‘Moving along, Bhaddā now said to Damayamtī:
‘“This great king is lord over the land of Kashmir. He is as handsome as the God of Love. If you want to play among fields of saffron, then choose him for your husband.”
‘The princess replied, “Bhaddā! Don’t you know how my body trembles at the very thought of mounds of snow? Let us go on.’
‘The maidservant continued on. She said, “This is King Jayakosa of Kosambī, who has a vast treasury. He is as handsome as the God of Love; O fawn-eyed lady, doesn’t he steal your heart?”
‘The princess only said, “Kavimjalā, look at the pretty garland they made for me to put around the neck of the man I choose.” Bhaddā took this as a rejection of the king she had just described and walked on. She soon said,
‘“O lady with the sweet voice! Put the garland on the neck of this king Jaya of Kalinga. His sword has swallowed up the fame of his enemies, just as Rāhu, the demon, swallows up the moon at the time of an eclipse.”
‘The princess replied, “I offer my respectful greetings to the gentleman, who is old enough to be my father.”
> ‘At that Bhaddā walked on to the next king and said:
‘“Lady with the charming gait of an elephant! Does this man, king of Gauḍa, a crown jewel among heroes, please you? The entire universe seems to split asunder from the noise made by the bells on his many elephants.”
‘The princess replied, “I had no idea until now that a man could be so ugly. Why, the universe could be destroyed by his looks alone, never mind his herd of elephants! Quickly, quickly, move on. My heart trembles in fear.” Bhaddā could not resist a laugh and moved on.
‘“Lotus-eyed lady! If you wish to play in the forest groves that line the banks of the river Sippā, then make this man your lord; he is Paumanāha, lord of Avamti.”
‘The princess replied, “Oh, I am getting exhausted walking around this pavilion. How much longer is Bhaddā going to go on prattling like this?” Bhaddā thought to herself, “The princess is trying to tell me that she does not like this one, either. I must go on.” And that she did. Now she said:
‘“This is Prince Nala, son of Nisaha. If Indra, the god with a thousand eyes, were to gaze on his beauty, he would finally think that he had found a purpose for having so many eyes.”
‘Damayaṃtī was astonished. She thought to herself, “His every limb seems to be the perfect example of physical beauty; his charm is unlike anything I have ever seen. He is indeed handsome and his every gesture enchants. Heart! Accept this man as your husband and you will find perfect satisfaction!” And she placed the garland, signalling her choice, around Nala’s neck.
‘A cry arose from the people, “Good choice! Good choice!” But king Kanha unsheathed his sword and rushed at Nala to strike him, shouting, “Ho, Nala! You will never marry Damayamti! She was wrong to have chosen you. I am the only one here worthy of her! Give her up or prepare yourself for battle!” Nala replied, “O vile man! Is it my fault that Damayaṃtī did not choose you? Now that she is mine, are you not ashamed to desire the wife of another man? Have you no concern for the stain you cast on your family? Do you not fear the opprobrium? Are you not afraid of the next world? You have strayed from the path of the righteous and it is my duty to chastise you.” At that Nala grabbed his own sword and stood up, his anger like a raging fire. Their two armies prepared to fight, terrifying with their many weapons. Damayaṃtī thought to herself, “Alas, what a wretched woman I am; this destruction of life is about to take place just because of me.” She prayed, “If I have had true faith in the Jinas, then I beg the protecting goddess of the Jain Faith to allow Nala to be my chosen one and to prevent their fight.” As she pronounced these words she took a pitcher and sprinkled water from it three times. When the water hit King Kanha’s body, the flames of his anger cooled down; he became like a lump of spent charcoal, the fire of his wrath gone. His sword fell from his hand, like a ripe fruit dropping from a tree. Like a snake without its poison, no longer angry, King Kanha thought to himself, “I spoke wrongly to Nala. He is no ordinary man. I should bow down at his feet.” And that he did. He confessed his sin to Nala and begged his forgiveness.
‘Nala spoke to King Kanha, who bowed down to him, and then gave him leave to go. It is true what the wise men say, that noble men treat those who submit to them with kindness and affection.
‘Bhīma, pleased with Nala’s behavior, honoured the other princes and kings and sent them on their way. He had Nala’s marriage to Damayaṃtī celebrated with great pomp and splendour.
After the wedding he gave Nala many gifts, elephants, horses, jewels, fine clothes, and the like. Nala stayed in Bhīma’s palace for a few days, while Bhīma continued to honor him with gifts. Then King Nala set out for his own city. Bhīma accompanied him part of the way.
‘As Damayaṃtī was preparing to leave with Nala, her mother gave her this advice:
‘“You should say only what is pleasant to hear and you should always be respectful and humble; my daughter, you must never speak ill of others and you must always stay close by him, like his own shadow, even in times of trouble.”
‘Damayaṃtī accepted her mother’s advice; she bowed down to her mother and father and they sent her on her way. Nala helped her onto the chariot and sat her on his lap. As Nala then made his way home, obstructing the sky with the clouds of dust raised by his army of elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers, the sun, the jewel of the heavens, set. The world was covered in a dense darkness that prevented the eyes from seeing. It was impossible to distinguish water from dry land, trees and mountains from deep pits. But Nala, eager to reach his own city, did not stop.
‘When Nala saw how his army was unable to see anything, how it stumbled and fell into the pits, losing its way, he said to his beloved:
‘“Queen! Wake up! Let shine the light from the sun-like mark on your forehead, for my entire army is blind in this darkness and can go no further.” Damayaṃtī got up and rubbed her forehead with her hand. Her beauty mark, home to dazzling rays, shone brightly, destroying the darkness. The army then proceeded along the road without any obstacles. When they had reached the outskirts of the city Koāalā, Nala said to Damayaṃtī, “Queen! This is my city, which is adorned everywhere with temples to the Jina.” She said, “Fortunate indeed am I, for having obtained Nala as my husband I shall always be able to worship in the Jain temples.”
‘On a propitious day Nala entered the city with Damayaṃtī. The city had been decked out for the occasion, fitted with benches for people to sit upon as they watched the royal couple; flags danced on the homes of the wealthy, kissing the heavens; drums resounded, filling the city with sound, while young women danced and the bards recited verses of praise as the couple made their way to the palace. Nala and Damayaṃtī bowed down to Nala’s mother and father, who welcomed them with joy.
‘Nala and Damayaṃtī enjoyed themselves, sometimes swimming in pools, sometimes swinging on swings, sometimes arranging braids of fragrant flowers and sprigs in each other’s hair; occasionally they amused themselves playing dice. Once when they were alone, Nala played different musical instruments and had Damayaṃtī dance for him. And so Nala and Damayaṃtī, never apart, spent their time in pursuit of ever new amusements.
‘Eventually King Nisaha installed Nala on the throne, appointed Kūbara crown prince and renounced the world to become a Jain monk.
‘Nala ruled over his kingdom; he was a veritable fire to his angry enemies, his valour the unbearable flames that engulfed them. Kings bowed their heads at his lotus feet.
‘One day Nala asked his ministers, “Will I rule over just the territory that my father acquired or over an even greater territory?” They replied, “King Nisaha ruled over all but one third of the entire half of Bharaha; you will rule over that third as well. It is only right for a son to surpass his father. But there is one thing that you must know. There is a city named Takkasīlā, which is two hundred furlongs away from here. Its king, Kayamba, does not submit to your commands.
‘“The moon in the sky bears a dark blot on its surface; if the fame you will have earned from ruling over the entire half of Bharaha is bright and shining like the moon, this rebellious king is its one dark spot.
‘“If you ignore him, then like a disease that only spreads when left untreated, he will become more and more difficult to conquer. If you make up your mind to defeat him, then he is as easily destroyed as a pot that falls from a mountain and shatters to bits. First you must send a messenger to him and find out his intentions. Then you must do whatever is necessary.”
‘King Nala dispatched a messenger skilled in the clever use of speech, having instructed him in what to say. The messenger wasted no time in making his way to Kayamba. He said to him:
‘“You are thus commanded by King Nala, who is a veritable forest fire to the forests that are his enemies. “Accept my overlordship and rule over your own kingdom. If you do not do this, then like a monk who has faltered in his observance of his vows and is lost forever, you will be cast out of your kingdom with all that belongs to it. I have sent this messenge
r with your welfare in mind; otherwise I would have just descended on you in a surprise attack.”’
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 18
