by Haskar
demons with pale eyes and hair,
cruel, dangerous to approach.
You must then cross rivers filled
with crocodiles and alligators.
‘“Having crossed the rivers, you will enter a wooded area with five hundred demigods who must firmly be driven away. Beyond lies the palace of Druma, the king of the kinnaras.”’
Prince Sudhana saluted the sage and set out as instructed to obtain the antidote, the incantation and the other things. Having gathered them all, he went once more to that holy man, who said, ‘Enough, prince! What is the point of all this effort? Indeed, of seeking Manohara? You are alone and without any help. You are risking your life.’
‘Great sage,’ the prince replied, ‘for certain will I go. The moon has no help in its journey through the sky. The lion’s strength lies in its own teeth, it has no help, nor does the forest fire. What need of a helper has one like me? Should one never dive into the mighty ocean? Is there a snake bite which cannot be cured? One must nurture one’s courage so that great ones may also see. And if the effort does not succeed, is that a fault?’
He then set out on the route instructed by Manohara. He passed through the mountains and the rivers, the caves and the precipices in due order, making use of the incantations and the antidotes, and eventually neared the palace of the kinnara king. Close to it he saw a city dotted with beautiful parks, full of all kinds of fruit and flowers and frequented by numerous birds. They also had lakes, tanks and wells used by the locals, and there he saw some kinnara women who had come to draw water.
‘What will you do with so much water?’ Sudhana asked some of those women.
‘King Druma of the kinnaras has a daughter called Manohara,’ they told him. ‘She had fallen into human hands and that odour has still to be washed off.’
‘Will these pitchers be poured over her all together,’ he asked further, ‘or one after the other?’
‘One after the other,’ he was told.
‘Here is a good method,’ he then reflected, ‘I will drop the signet ring into one of them,’ and did so into one maid’s jar, unnoticed by her. ‘You should be the first to bathe Manohara with your water,’ he told her.
‘There is certainly something behind this,’ the young maiden thought, but her pitcher was nevertheless the first to be poured over the princess who recognized the ring as it rolled into her lap.
‘Has some man come here?’ she asked the maid who said it was so. ‘Go, bring him here in secret,’ she ordered, and the girl brought the prince in, taking him to a hidden spot.
Manohara then went to her father and touched his feet. ‘Father,’ she asked, ‘what would you do if that Prince Sudhana were to come here, the one by whom I was carried off?’
‘I would have him chopped into a hundred pieces and have them thrown in the four directions,’ said the king. ‘He is just a human, of no value.’
‘But how could one who is just a human come here, father? That is what I say.’
At this the king’s temper cooled. ‘If that prince comes here,’ he said, ‘I will give you to him to be his wife, adorned with jewellery, endowed with great wealth and attended by a thousand kinnara maids.’
Manohara was happy and content. With great joy she brought Sudhana, wearing heavenly ornaments, before King Druma who was utterly amazed to see the prince—charming, handsome and gracious, with a glowing complexion and an imposing presence. Wishing to test him, the king set up seven each of golden pillars, palm trees, kettledrums and wild boars, saying, ‘While you surpass our youths in splendour, only a display of power can make you deserving of a connection with our divine race. Let fly this forest of arrows, and get one back immediately. Collect and return this scattered host of sesame seeds. Show your skill in archery by hitting both fixed and moving targets. Then will you have won the celebrated Manohara.’
Well, the Bodhisattvas are adept in every kind of art and skill, and the gods too are keen to remove any obstacles before them. And Prince Sudhana was a Bodhisattva. As he stood surrounded by thousands of kinnaras, and their astonished king looked on, the gods provided celestial music on lutes and drums, strings and cymbals. On the direction of Indra, the king of heaven, demigods in the form of boars recovered the right arrow, and ants created by Indra collected the sesame seeds. The prince then approached the golden pillars with a sword that shone like blue lilies and cut them into pieces as if slicing bananas. Scattering them like so many seeds, he then shot an arrow through the seven palm trees, kettledrums and wild boars, after which he stood back as firmly as Mount Sumeru while the gods in the sky and the kinnara thousands let out loud cries of astonishment.
King Druma then placed Manohara amid many who looked just like her, and addressed Prince Sudhana. ‘Come, prince!’ he exclaimed, ‘do you recognize Manohara?’
At this the prince replied:
As you are Druma’s daughter,
my love and chosen one,
by this truth, step forward
swiftly, O Manohara.
And as she took a quick step forward, the kinnaras cried out, ‘Your Majesty, Prince Sudhana is endowed with strength, courage and heroism. He and Manohara are one. Why deceive him? Give him his Manohara!’
As desired by his subjects, the king then rendered all honours with great respect on Sudhana. Taking Manohara in her heavenly jewellery with his left hand and a golden urn in his right, he said, ‘Prince, I give you this Manohara to be your wife. We are not familiar with humans, but never forsake her.’
‘Never, father,’ Sudhana told the king in reply. And returning to their palace amidst the sound of music played by its women, he sported and dallied and made love to Manohara.
After some time, the memories of his own land and the pain of seaparation from his parents made Sudhana sad. He spoke to Manohara who explained it in detail to her father. ‘Go with the prince,’ he told her, ‘but be careful as humans are prone to deceit.’ Giving her jewels, pearls, gold and such objects, he then sent them on their journey.
Sudhana and Manohara flew out to Hastinapura by the aerial path of birds and kinnaras. Learning of this, King Mahadhana beat the drums of joy. The whole city was swept clean of stones, pebbles and gravel, sprinkled with sandalwood water and adorned with silken banners strung with pearls. It was scented with incense and strewn with flowers. Accompanied by many eminent personalities, the prince then entered Hastinapura with Manohara. After some rest, he took a gift of jewels and went to his father who embraced him. Seated beside the royal throne, he recounted in detail his journey to and from the kinnara city.
Realizing the great strength, courage and heroism of his son, Mahadhana anointed him as king. ‘My reunion with Manohara and coronation as king is the result of merits earned in the past,’ Sudhana reflected, ‘so, now I will do charity, make donations and perform other good deeds.’ And for twelve years he carried out fire sacrifices ceaselessly in Hastinapura.
‘You might think that someone else was Prince Sudhana on that occasion at that time,’ said the Lord.4 ‘But it should not be thus seen. It was I, who in the course of being a Bodhisattva, became at that time the king called Sudhana. And if I displayed strength, courage and heroism for Manohara, and performed fire sacrifices continually for twelve years, it does not mean that I had attained the unsurpassable righteous state of enlightenment: only that philanthropy and courage are merely the causes and the means for attaining that state.’ Thus did the Lord speak, and all the people rejoiced at his words with their minds in assent.
From Divyāvadāna, Ch. 30
Of Husbands and Wives
Uttama was a king known for his strength and prowess. A righteous and high-minded ruler, he was adept in sacred duties and treated everyone equally, friend or foe, son or stranger; but to the wicked he was a bringer of death and as gentle as the moon to the virtuous.
Uttama married Bahula of the Babhru line. Wanting her had filled his mind to the exclusion of all else, even in his dreams. His eyes would burn into
her as he gazed at her beautiful body. The desire to touch it overwhelmed him. Even a harsh word from her he found pleasant and an insult a compliment. But while he was so enamoured of her, she did not feel the same for him. She disregarded the fine ornaments and garlands he gave her, and would get up and leave if he held her hand for a mere moment while halfway through a cup of wine. Though she never seemed pleased and ate very little, his passion for her increased all the more.
Once, King Uttama respectfully offered a cup of wine to that proud lady. The nobles of the court were looking on at that moment together with the principal courtesans who were singing. But Queen Bahula did not wish to take the cup and turned her face away. It was a public repudiation of an unloved husband by his dearly loved spouse. The king was enraged. Hissing like a snake, he summoned the gatekeeper. ‘Take away this wicked-hearted woman immediately and leave her in some lonely forest!’ he cried, ‘And you are not to question my order.’
The gatekeeper obeyed. Taking that beauty in a chariot, he abandoned her in a forest. The queen thought it a great boon to be out of the king’s sight. As for him, passion for Bahula still smouldered in his heart, and he did not take another wife. Night and day he thought of her as he administered his realm, observing the laws and protecting the people as a father does his own children.
One day a troubled brahman came to the monarch. ‘Great king,’ he said, ‘no one except their ruler can relieve the people’s suffering. I am in great distress. Last night I slept without bolting the door of our house, and someone abducted my wife. You must retrieve her.’
‘Brahman,’ the king responded, ‘you do not know by whom she was taken and where to. Whom shall I punish and from where will I bring her back?’
‘Sir, it is for you to find this out. The king takes a sixth part of our produce as remuneration and protects the law so that people may sleep peacefully at night.’
‘Well, I have not seen your wife. Tell me, how does she look? What is her age? Of what kind is her character?’
‘She has hard eyes and is not too tall. Her arms are short and her face emaciated. She is pot-bellied and her breasts and buttocks are shrivelled. She is ugly, O lord of the land. I am not belittling her, but that is what she is. Her character is not amiable and her speech very harsh. In brief, she looks dreadful and is also past her youth. That is my wife, I tell you truly.’
‘Enough of her, brahman. I will get you another wife. Not a source of suffering, but someone who will add to your happiness. The best in disposition and the least in ugliness is what you need. One without looks and character is best given up.’
‘O king,’ the brahman responded, ‘the highest scriptures say that the wife must be protected. When she is, so too is the progeny. Indeed one’s own self grows from her and is also protected with the progeny. And when she is not, it leads to the commingling of castes which drags one’s forbears from heaven into hell. My wife may be harsh, but how can I leave her for another? We were joined in marriage according to sacred rites, and without her my fund of merit depletes daily, detracting from the performance of prescribed duties and leading even to my own downfall. For she is the mother of my children, the giver of your one-sixth share, in effect the instrument and the sustainer of our rites. It is for this that you must bring back my abducted wife, master, for you are by right our protector.’
The king was not too pleased, but thought about what the brahman had said and mounted a fully equipped chariot for the search. Wandering here and there through the land, he came to a fine hermitage in a great forest. Entering it, he saw there a holy sage who got up quickly to welcome him and asked a student to bring the ritual offering even as the latter whispered in his ear.
‘I know you are King Uttama,’ said the sage. ‘Why have you come here, sir? What is it you wish?’
‘Some unknown person abducted the wife of a brahman from his house, O sage,’ the king told him. ‘I have come looking for her. Be kind enough to respond to my queries.’
‘Ask me freely whatever you wish, O king, and if I can answer you, I will do so fully.’
‘To begin with, sir, when you saw me arrive you seemed about to make the ritual offering to me. When will that happen?’
‘I was indeed eager to do so when I saw you. But my student alerted me and I did not make it. You deserve it by virtue of your descent, but not as a person.’
‘What have I done, consciously or otherwise, that you think me undeserving, even though I have come here after long?’
‘Have you forgotten you had your wife abandoned in a forest? With her, O king, you abandoned all righteousness. A fortnight’s neglect of daily duties makes a man unfit to be touched; yours has been for a whole year. Just as a wife must be agreeable to the husband even though he is ill-disposed, so must such a wife, however unpleasant, be supported by her husband. That brahman’s wife was disagreeable; even so he urged you to find her. He wishes to do the right thing. You, lord of the land, redeem those who renege from their ordained duties. But who can do the same for you?’
These wise words embarrassed the king. ‘It is as you say,’ he acknowledged, but then asked again about the abducted woman. ‘You, sir, are all-knowing,’ he said. ‘Who has taken her, and where?’
The sage told him, ‘She was taken by the demon Balaka who lives in the Utpalavata forest. Go there quickly, and reunite that brahman with his wife thus stopping his descent into sin, unlike you.’
The king went to the forest and saw there a woman who matched the brahman’s description. She was eating a wood-apple. ‘Good lady,’ he asked, ‘are you the wife of Susharma, the son of Vishala? How did you come to this forest? Tell me clearly.’
‘I am the daughter of the brahman Atiratha,’ she replied. ‘I am also the wife of Vishala’s son whom you just named. I was abducted by the demon Balaka as I slept at home. May that wretch go to hell. Separating me from my mother and brother, he abandoned me in this dense forest where I am in real distress. Why he neither devoured nor ravished me, I just do not know.’
‘Have you any idea where he may have gone after leaving you? I have been sent here by your husband.’
‘That nocturnal creature lives at the end of this forest. Go there, sir, and see him if you are not afraid.’
The king took the path she pointed out. The demon was with his family. Bowing to the monarch from a distance, he came forward and touched his feet. ‘You have done me a great favour by coming here, my lord,’ he said. ‘Command what I should do, for I live in your realm. Take this seat and accept this offering. Instruct me, master, for we are your servants.’
‘All that is well, demon,’ said the king. ‘Why did you kidnap the brahman Susharma’s wife? Was it to devour her or to ravish her?’
‘We are not man-eating demons, O king. Others may be, but we partake only of the fruit of our good deeds. Not the flesh but the disposition of men and women is what we eat. Their forbearance consumed, they become subject to anger; and their wickedness devoured, they become meritorious. And our demon girls have the beauty of celestial nymphs, so why should we want your women for pleasure?’
‘Well, if this woman was neither for your food nor your pleasure, why did you abduct her from the brahman’s house?’
‘That best of brahmans knows all the magic incantations,’ the demon explained. ‘To whichever sacrificial rite I went, he would expel me with his spells against demons. We were famished. Over time he became the sacrificial priest wherever we went. So we thought of this disqualification: without his wife, a man becomes unfit for sacred rituals.’
The king was much disturbed to hear of the brahman’s disqualification. ‘Its mention is equally bad for me,’ he reflected. ‘The sage said that I was unfit to receive the offerings due to a guest. The deficiency is similar to the brahman’s, and I now face great problems without my wife.’
Even as he worried thus, the demon saluted once more. ‘Favour me with your orders, my lord,’ he said as he bowed deeply.
‘What you said a
bout devouring people’s dispositions fits with what I would like to have done,’ the king replied. ‘Listen. Consume the unamiable nature of this brahman woman. Then return her to her home, and you would have done all that is due to me as a guest.’
As ordered by the king, the demon entered that woman with his magic and ate up her fierce ill nature. Relieved of it, she declared, ‘It was the consequence of my own deeds that I was separated from that great soul, my husband. This demon was but an instrument for our separation. The fault was not his, nor my husband’s, but only mine, for in a previous life I must have caused someone’s separation which now rebounded on me.’
Having sent the woman to her husband’s house, the king wondered what he should do for himself. ‘That high-minded sage spoke of my unworthiness to receive his offerings,’ he sighed, ‘and the demon mentioned the brahman’s disqualification. I forsook my wife. Now what is to be done?’ Pondering on this, he went once more to the sage and told him all that had transpired with the demon, the brahman’s wife and the cure of her ill nature and her return to her husband. ‘Now, what should I do?’ he asked.
‘One’s wife is a powerful instrument of virtue, wealth and pleasure, the three worldly ends of man; particularly of virtue which is forsaken in forsaking her,’ the sage replied. ‘Without his wife, the man is unfit for his duties, of whatever caste he may be. You did not do well in abandoning your spouse, for just as husbands are not to be deserted, neither are wives.’
‘What should I do, sir?’ the king asked. ‘I liked her but she did not like me, so I left her. Whatever she did I endured with a heart on fire. Now separated, I am afraid. She was left in the forest, and I know not where she went nor if she was eaten by lions, tigers or demons.’
‘None of them have eaten her,’ the sage assured him. ‘She is now in the nether world, her good name unblemished. The serpent king took her there and his daughter has protected her. You should rule your kingdom in accordance with your sacred duty, performing all the righteous actions together with your wife.’
