The elephants, wild in rut, were tied fast to the strong trunks of the trees while the camels and other animals were stationed at proper spots.
The young girl woke up when she heard the sounds coming from the king’s camp. She saw that her cows had fled out of fear of the huge elephants and other beasts. As the minister watched, she ran to get the cows back. As she ran, the entire garden, horses, army camp and all, went after her. The king and all his retinue stood up at once, their eyes wide open in astonishment. ‘What’s happening, what’s happening!’ they cried. The king asked the minister, ‘Is this some magician’s show?’ The minister replied, ‘My lord! There was a young girl asleep here. She woke up and rubbed her eyes, which were wide open in fear, and then she ran away. This garden, too, ran off behind her. She must have some magic power. I can tell that she cannot be a goddess by the way that she rubbed her eyes, this much I can swear to.’ With those words the minister dashed off after the young girl, calling out to her. ‘What did you say?’ she replied, and she stopped in her tracks along with her garden. He called out to her, ‘Come back here.’ She answered, ‘My cows have run off.’ The minister promised, ‘We’ll bring them back for you,’ and true to his words he dispatched some riders after the cows. They brought the cows back. The girl returned and stood by the king. The garden stood there, too. The king first marvelled at her unusual gift; then he began to look her up and down. He saw that she was just a young maid and he fell in love with her on the spot. He glanced over at his minister, who divined the king’s state of mind and said to the young girl, Vijjupahā:
‘Lovely lady! Accept as your most excellent husband, your lord, this man, who is lord over all the earth. Many are the princes who bow down at his lotus-like feet in humble submission.’
She replied, ‘I am not master of myself.’ ‘The minister asked, ‘Then who is your master?’ She said, ‘My mother and father.’ The minister asked, ‘Who is your father? Where does he live? What is his name?’ She answered, ‘He is the brahmin Aggisomma, living right here in this village.’
When he heard this the king commanded his minister, ‘Go at once to ask for her hand.’ And so the minister went into the village, straight to the brahmin’s house. The brahmin saw the minister coming and respectfully rose to greet him. He offered him a seat and said, ‘Tell me, what I can do for you?’ The minister said, ‘Tell me, do you have a daughter?’ ‘Yes, replied the brahmin.’ ‘In that case, give her to the king in marriage,’ said the minister. The brahmin replied, ‘Consider it done. My very life belongs to the king; why should not my daughter, too, be his?’
The minister said, ‘Come, let us go to the king.’ And so Aggisomma went to the king. After offering the king his blessing, the brahmin sat down near the king. The minister explained what had taken place. The king, unable to wait a moment longer, took the girl without benefit of proper ceremony. He changed her name. It was like this:
Since there shone above her a garden, resplendent with many trees, he called her Ārāmasohā, “The Girl who is Adorned with a Garden”.
The king realized that the poor brahmin would now tell every one that he was the king’s father-in law; embarrassed at the thought of having a pauper for his father-in-law, he gave the brahmin twelve excellent villages and prepared for a hasty departure. He sat Ārāmasohā on a fine elephant. The garden still stayed right above her. The king was absolutely delighted. One might say:
The king was convinced that his life’s goal was achieved when he obtained that girl; after all, who would not be satisfied at getting a most excellent jewel?
All the way home the king could not keep his eyes off her face; then again, is it any wonder that the eye, once it alights on something beautiful, is reluctant to move on?
Why should we be surprised if the king was infatuated with her? She was, after all, extremely lovely, and to top it off, she had been given magic powers by a demi-god!
When they arrived at Pādaliputta the king commanded:
‘Decorate the marketplace! Raise high the flags! Let the entire city be decked out with stages and seats for the spectators!
‘What more need I say? Let everything me made ready so that I may enter the city with my queen with all due pomp and splendor.’
When all the king’s commands had been carried out by the townspeople, the king entered the city, at each step honored by appropriate ceremonies and good wishes.
After the king had entered the city, all the people poured out of their homes, eager to see the king and his queen.
The men praised the king, while the women were amazed by the queen. One young man remarked, ‘Fortunate indeed is the king to have obtained a woman like this. She surpasses all the women of the gods and has moreover great magical powers; she is truly the source of all of life’s pleasures.’
Some old man added, ‘This is clearly the result of previously earned merits. We must also do such good deeds so that in another life we too may be so fortunate.’
Some child, seeing the marvellous fruit hanging over the elephant, piped up, ‘Oh my! How can I obtain such wonderful fruit for myself?’
Among the women one chimed in, ‘Look! Look at this great wonder!’, and to her a second woman replied, ‘Surely all of this is due to the power of some god.’
A third remarked, ‘Just look at how beautiful she is,’ while another cheekily retorted, ‘Who wouldn’t be beautiful with clothes and jewels like that!’
Still another said, ‘Glorious indeed is she among living beings, who shares the throne of the king!’ while someone else replied,
‘O lovely lady, why do you praise her in this way? She’s a bit too bold for me. See, she isn’t even embarrassed to parade herself with the king in front of all and sundry!’
Still another said, ‘Aren’t you amazed? An entire garden, so lovely, hovers above that best of elephants!’
Someone else replied, ‘What’s so surprising about that? The powers of the gods can do all sorts of things like this!’
The king passed through the crowd, abuzz with remarks like these. He alighted from the elephant in front of his own grand palace.
While the king and queen entered the palace, the divine garden hovered over the palace through the power of that demi-god.
As the king enjoyed the pleasures of the senses with her, like some god in heaven, he did not even notice time going by.
Now in the meantime Ārāmasohā’s step-mother had given birth to a daughter. This girl was now of age. The stepmother thought to herself, ‘If somehow this Ārāmasohā could be got rid of, then the king would surely fall in love with this daughter of mine and marry her. I must figure out some means to get rid of Ārāmasohā.’ She asked her husband, ‘Why don’t I send something delicious for Ārāmasohā to eat?’ He told her, ‘Beloved! What would she want with anything we might send? She already has everything she could possibly want.’ She replied, ‘You are right. She does have everything she could possibly want, but still I’d like to send her something.’ Her husband realized that she was adamant and so he said, ‘In that case, make something.’ Her eyes popping with joy, the woman made some fancy candies. She put a good dose of drugs inside the candies and then coated them with honey. She then put the candies into a pot. She instructed her husband, ‘Take these candies to her yourself. Don’t let anyone take them from you along the way.’ Her husband was a simple and honest fellow; he had no idea of her evil intentions. As he was about to set off by himself with the carefully sealed and labelled pot on his head, his wife told him again, ‘You must give these candies to Ārāmasohā and to no one else. You must tell her, “Daughter, please eat these candies by yourself. Do not give them to anyone else. We wouldn’t want everyone at the court to make fun of my cooking!”’
Her husband agreed to do as he was told, and set out on his journey. Morning, noon and night he watched over his charge, making sure it remained sealed, and at night when he slept he placed it carefully under his pillow; thus he made his way to his destination, P
ādaliputta. There, on the outskirts of the city, exhausted, he fell asleep under a huge fig tree. Because of the strange ways of karma, the tree under which he fell asleep turned out to be the very tree in which the snake prince that had befriended Ārāmasohā had made its nest. The snake prince thought, ‘Someone is sleeping under my tree, totally exhausted from a long journey. Who can it be?’ He used his supernatural knowledge and saw that it was none other than Ārāmasohā’s father. He asked himself, ‘What does he want coming to Pādaliputta. and what has he brought with him?’ and no sooner did these questions come to him, then he saw the poisoned candies. As soon as he saw the poisoned candies, he further thought to himself, ‘What a wicked stepmother! But I will never let that girl die as long as I am alive!’ And so he spirited away those poison candies and put candies with the nectar of immortality in their place.
A few moments later the father woke up and went into the city. He reached the gate of the king’s palace and said to the doorkeeper, ‘Sir, tell the king, “ĀrāmasohĀ’s father has come from afar and wishes to see the king.”’ The doorkeeper informed the king, who ordered, ‘Bring him in at once.’ The brahmin then approached the king with words of blessing. He presented the gift to Ārāmasohā, who was with the king. He said, ‘Lord! My daughter’s mother says.’ “I have made these with the love that is in a mother’s heart. They are for my daughter and no one else. What more is there for me to say? You must be sure that you do not make me a laughing stock in the king’s court.’” At that the king looked over at his wife. She gave the candies to her servant and had her bring them to her quarters. The brahmin was honored with gifts of jewels, fine ornaments and clothes. The queen retired to her quarters. When his formal duties were over in the court, the king joined her in her quarters. When he was seated comfortably, the queen said.
‘My Lord, grant me your favor. Give the order for this box to be opened.’ Hearing her words, the king replied,
‘My queen! Do not hesitate. You are in command here. Do as you like. Open the box yourself.’
Now when the queen opened the box, suddenly a divine fragrance filled the room, such as was difficult to encounter in the world of mortals.
The king was overcome by the fragrance for a moment; when he came to, he looked inside the box and saw there large, divine sweets, like fruits of the gods, containing the nectar of immortality.
The king was amazed and showed the candies to everyone who was around. Then he proceeded to eat them, even more amazed by their taste.
The king said to his queen, ‘Queen! These are marvellous. I have never tasted anything like them. Send one to each of your sisters.’ She did as she was told. Everyone sang her mother’s praise, and it was said far and wide, ‘Surely no one knows how to make candies the way she does!’
Aggisoma wanted permission to take Ārāmasohā home with him for a while. He asked the king, ‘Lord, let my daughter come with me for a short time.’ The king replied, ‘Brahmin! The king’s wives are not allowed to be touched by the rays of the sun. They cannot go outside.’ Knowing that the king’s answer was firm, the brahmin went home. He told his wife all that had happened. She thought to herself, ‘Can it be that my efforts were in vain? I’ll fix things. This time I will make even finer sweets for her.’ And so a few days later she gave her husband a box of even better candies and sent him on his way. As before, he eventually came to that very same fig tree. The demi-god saw him and again took away the poison. Once more his wife’s cooking was praised far and wide. The third time, when the stepmother heard that Ārāmasohā was pregnant, she gave to her husband a box of cakes, each carefully wrapped in palm leaves, and sent him off with these instructions, ‘This time you must be sure to fix it so that your daughter comes home with you and gives birth here. If the king refuses to send her, use your power as a brahmin to convince him!’ Her husband agreed and off he went. When he got to the tree, once more the god took away the poison. Everything else happened just as before; then the brahmin again asked the king:
‘Lord! Now let my daughter come home with me so that she may give birth in her own home.’
But the king still refused, saying, ‘That is impossible.’ At this the brahmin started to stab himself in the stomach. He told the king, ‘If you do not let my daughter come with me, then my death, the death of a brahmin, is on your head.’ This convinced the king that the brahmin was determined and would stop at nothing. He conferred with his minister and finally gave permission for Ārāmasohā to go, accompanied by the appropriate retinue and gifts.
When the stepmother heard that Ārāmasohā was on her way home, she ordered a huge well to be dug behind their house. She also hid her own daughter in an underground chamber.
Ārāmasohā arrived with her escort of soldiers. She was given the proper welcome. When her time came, she gave birth to a son, who was like a god. Now one day when it just so happened that all her maidservants were somewhere else and only her stepmother was near her, Ārāmasohā needed to go outside to urinate. Her stepmother had to help her. She took Ārāmasohā to the back door. When Ārāmasohā saw the well, she asked her step-mother, ‘Mother, when was this well dug?’ She replied, ‘Daughter! When I heard that you were coming I had it dug right away. I was afraid someone might attempt to poison you, so I decided that we needed to have our own well, right here near our house.’ ĀrĀmasohā was curious about the well, but when she went right up to it to have a look down, her cruel stepmother pushed her into the well and she fell head first. As she fell she remembered the agreement she had made with the demi-god and she called out, ‘Father! I need your help now!’ At once the snake-prince caught her in his hands. He made an underground palace for her in the well and placed her there, where she could stay in all comfort. Even her garden followed her down into the well. Now the demi-god was angry with the stepmother. ĀrĀmasohā calmed him down, saying that after all the woman had been like a mother to her.
The stepmother dressed her own daughter in clothes suitable for a woman who has just given birth, and settled her on the bed that Ārāmasohā had been occupying. It was not long before ĀrāmasohĀ’s maidservants came back. They saw this woman:
She wasn’t very attractive and her complexion was sallow; her eyes were a bit sunken in, but still, the woman they saw there lying on the bed did bear some resemblance to their mistress.
They asked her, ‘Mistress! How is it that you look so different?’ She replied, ‘I don’t know. I just don’t feel very well, that’s all, I guess.’
The maidservants were frightened and asked the stepmother, ‘What has happened to her?’ The mother beat her breast and cried:
‘Alas, alas, I am ruined, daughter! I am indeed an unfortunate creature! Alas, my daughter, your beauty has faded.
‘Could someone have put the evil eye on you? Have you got the wind? Or have you some affliction, some child-bed fever?’
While she went on lamenting in this way, the maidservants said, ‘Don’t cry. Just do whatever you have to do right away!’
At that the stepmother proceeded to perform all sorts of strange rituals, but none of them produced any change in the state of the girl’s body.
The maidservants became despondent, for they were terrified at what the king would do to them. Not long after that the king’s messenger arrived. He announced, ‘The king has commanded me to bring the queen and the prince back at once.’ They made everything ready for Ārāmasohā’s departure. As the party was about to depart, Ārāmasohā’s servants asked, ‘Where is your garden? Why is it not coming today?’ The girl replied, ‘I let it go to the well at the back of the house to have a drink of water. It’ll come later. Let’s go.’ The party started off. In time they reached Pādaliputta.
The king was informed of the good news. Delighted, he had the marketplace decorated to welcome them. He declared a holiday. The king himself went out to receive his queen and son. When he saw what the queen looked like he asked, ‘Queen! Why do you look so different?’ The maidservants told him, ‘Lor
d, after she gave birth she must have been afflicted by the evil eye, or a disturbance of wind, or possibly by child-bed fever that has caused this change in her bodily appearance. We’re not quite sure.’ When he heard this the king looked crestfallen at the news of the queen’s troubles, despite his joy at the birth of his son. Nonetheless, he controlled himself and they all entered the city. He asked her, ‘Where is the garden?’ She answered, ‘I left it behind so it could drink some water. It will come as soon as I call it.’ But whenever the king looked at her body he could not help wondering, ‘Is this really she or is it some other woman?’ One day the king told her, ‘Bring the garden.’ She answered, ‘Oh, I’ll bring it when I need it.’ When the king saw her vacant expression, he became even more suspicious. He thought, ‘This is not my queen. It must be someone else.’ This doubt began to preoccupy him more and more.
In the meantime, Ārāmasohā told the snake prince, ‘I miss my child very much. You must do something so that I may see him.’ He replied, ‘In that case, my daughter, I can give you the power to go there, but you must not dally; as soon as you have seen your child you must come back at once.’ She agreed. The snake prince warned her, ‘If you stay there until the sun rises, you will never see me again. I will give you a sign if we are never to meet again; I will make it so that you will see a dead snake falling from your hair.’ She said, ‘So be it. I must see my son.’ And so the snake prince let her go. By his power she reached Pādaliputta in an instant. She opened the gate and walked right into the innermost room of the palace. What was it like? Well, like this:
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 27
