Listen, O King!

by Sivadasa

The king sent for the princess and told her, ‘My dear, this young Brahmin girl has been left in our protection by her father-in-law. Please let her stay in your apartments. You must be very careful that no harm comes to her. In fact, you must not let her out of your sight, even when you are having a meal. And she must sleep in your room at night.’

  The princess heeded her father’s instructions and led the so-called girl to her chambers. When night fell, she made sure that the girl slept in her room. The two began talking and became friends. Soon, they were inseparable and spent much time in pleasant conversation.

  After having gained Chandraprabha’s confidence, the fake Brahmin girl asked her one day, ‘What is the matter, my lady? You always appear to be lost in thought, and sigh as though in sorrow sometimes. You pick at your food and seem to be growing weaker day by day.’

  ‘Ah . . .’ replied the princess with a sad smile. ‘There is no one here sympathetic enough in whom I can confide my grief. I wonder why the gods make us fall in love? Only to separate us from the one we adore . . .’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked her companion. ‘You can share your problems with me. You know I’m a sympathetic listener.’

  The princess sighed. ‘You must have guessed that I’ve fallen in love but cannot find a way to meet my beloved. I encountered a young Brahmin boy at the pleasure groves during the spring festival. And he was equal to the god of love in appearance. We exchanged glances but could not speak to each other, since I was out with my companions. Since then, he has constantly been in my thoughts, and nothing else appeals to me. I feel as if life is not worth living if I cannot marry him. But I don’t know his name or where he lives . . . I don’t know anything about him!’

  ‘Suppose I bring your beloved to you, what will my reward be?’ asked the disguised Vamanaswami.

  ‘If you do, I will be your slave forever!’ exclaimed the princess.

  Vamanaswami quietly removed the tiny globe from his mouth. He changed into his original form and stood before the princess, smiling.

  Chandraprabha gasped. First she gazed at him, wide-eyed, then turned away shyly. ‘See, you wanted to meet me and I appeared at once,’ said the young Brahmin.

  Overjoyed to be reunited, and knowing they could not disclose their love, they decided to become husband and wife in secret, and married each other in the Gandharva tradition, with an exchange of garlands. Vamanaswami now lived without a care in the princess’s apartments. By day, he would assume the form of the young Brahmin bride. At night, when no one was around, he would remove the magic ball and return to being himself.

  The situation seemed perfect, till one day the prime minister of the kingdom invited the king and his family to his house for dinner. The girl naturally accompanied the princess. When the prime minister’s son set eyes on the so-called Brahmin bride, he was enchanted by her beauty. As time passed, he began to pine away for her, abandoning all his other pursuits, and eventually, even stopped eating and drinking water. His best friend, concerned, asked him what was troubling him.

  ‘If I cannot marry that lovely Brahmin girl, I will die,’ declared the prime minister’s son.

  His friend immediately informed the prime minister, who hurried to the king, pale with anxiety. ‘Your Majesty, my son will surely die if he cannot have that young Brahmin girl for his wife. I beg you to save his life.’

  ‘But she is already married!’ exclaimed the king, shocked. ‘How can I allow him to wed another man’s wife? As you well know, it is against the law.’

  This conversation had occurred in the presence of the king’s council of ministers. They took the prime minister’s side, counselling the king to give his assent. ‘Your Majesty,’ one said, ‘that young man has made up his mind to die if his wish is not granted. If he dies, the prime minister will be overcome with grief and give up his life in turn. The kingdom will be left without an able administrator and will eventually fall apart. Everyone will suffer. Taking all this into consideration, it would be best to give in to the young man’s request.’

  The king summoned the sham girl and said, ‘I order you to marry the prime minister’s son.’

  ‘I cannot, Your Majesty,’ the Brahmin bride protested. ‘You know I am already married to another man. It is against the law to take another husband while the first is still alive.’

  ‘It is also your duty to act for the welfare of the kingdom,’ the king said firmly. ‘If you do not listen to my command, the kingdom’s well-being will be in peril.’

  ‘If you insist, Your Majesty, I will have to acquiesce,’ replied the girl. ‘I have a condition, however. After the wedding ceremony has taken place, he must undertake a six-month-long pilgrimage. Only when he returns can we live together as man and wife.’

  The prime minister’s son raised no objections to the girl’s terms. The wedding took place and he busied himself, getting things ready for his pilgrimage. But before he left, he told his first wife, ‘During my absence, this new bride will be your responsibility. You must keep her with you at all times, day and night. And the two of you are not to venture out of the house on any condition. Do not visit anyone, no matter how close they are to you and how hard they press you.’

  With these strict instructions, the newly-wed husband left. The two wives were compelled to stay in the same room, and became friendly. Soon, they started to confide in each other. ‘I’m deeply devoted to my husband,’ said the first wife. ‘But he has forbidden me to leave the house. How boring it is to waste the precious days of my youth in this way! He has gone away and I can’t even divert myself with any kind of entertainment. You, too, are in the same boat, my friend. I wonder what fate led you to share my miserable condition. Don’t you find it irksome to be confined like this?’

  ‘Very right, dear friend,’ said the new bride. ‘But if you agree, there is a way to rid ourselves of boredom. I can change into a man at will.’

  ‘How can that be possible?’ asked the first wife. ‘You are cracking a joke at my expense.’

  In response, Vamanaswami removed the magic ball from his mouth and took on his real form. The first wife was stunned at this. She was attracted to the handsome Brahmin and the two enjoyed each other’s company while the husband was away.

  As the time for the husband’s return drew closer, they became worried lest he should find out that his new wife was actually a man. Then Vamanaswami was struck by an idea. ‘When everyone is celebrating our husband’s safe return with auspicious rituals, I will transform myself and slip out of the house. I will look for the trickster Muladeva and ask him to think of a solution to this problem.’

  When the prime minister’s son returned, Vamanaswami did as they had planned and went to Muladeva for advice. The quick-witted trickster came up with a plan yet again. With the help of his magic orbs he took on the identity of the elderly Brahmin once more and turned his partner, Sasi, into a young man. The two then set off for the king’s palace.

  The king granted him audience and welcomed him with his usual courtesy, asking after his health and well-being.

  ‘All is well, by God’s grace, Your Majesty,’ Muladeva replied formally.

  ‘Who is this young man?’ the king then inquired.

  ‘This is my son, Your Majesty,’ Muladeva said. ‘Remember, I had left his wife under your protection some months ago. We have come to take her back. Fortunately it is now safe for her to return to the village. Please, could you send for her?’

  The king was full of dismay. ‘Venerable sir, please give careful ear to my account,’ he said. And he narrated the whole train of events as they had occurred, since the so-called bride had been left in his care.

  Muladeva pretended to fly into a rage. ‘What? Marry my son’s wife to another man? How could you allow this, O king?’ he thundered. ‘I left my daughter-in-law in your care. You will regret this sorely.’

  ‘Esteemed Brahmin, I beg you to forgive me,’ implored the king, trembling with fear. ‘Please don’t curse me. Ask me for anything you mig
ht want and I will fulfil your wish.’

  The so-called Brahmin now changed tack. ‘If that is so, O king, then I demand that you marry your daughter to my son.’

  The king consulted his council of ministers and they agreed that the king had no choice but to fulfil Muladeva’s request, lest he curse them.

  The princess was summoned, and after the preliminary ceremonies had taken place, the marriage was solemnized. Chandraprabha now became the trickster Sasi’s wife, and Muladeva and Sasi took her home with them.

  In the meantime, Vamanaswami was waiting at Muladeva’s house. When he saw the newly-married couple arrive, he was stunned.

  ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ he cried.

  ‘I married the princess with her father’s consent, in front of the whole court and all the people present there,’ Sasi said smugly. ‘Now she is my wife.’

  ‘But we had already accepted each other as husband and wife. How could she marry you!’ Vamanaswami protested vehemently.

  Muladeva, the clever trickster, had no answer to this.

  * * *

  ‘What do you say, O king?’ asked the vetal. ‘Who is Princess Chandraprabha’s true husband?’

  ‘Sasi, of course,’ King Vikram replied without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Vamanaswami entered the palace secretly. Sasi, however, took her as his wife openly, with her father’s consent.’

  But the vetal was already on its way to the sinsipa tree. King Vikram followed uncomplainingly.

  Jimutavahana’s Sacrifice

  Once again the king pulled the corpse down from the tree and slung it over his shoulder. He began to trudge towards the riverbank, where the ascetic was waiting. But the vetal had more stories to tell.

  ‘Listen to this story, O king,’ it began.

  * * *

  Far north, in the famous Himalayas—always covered in snow—lived the king of the vidyadharas. His name was Jimutaketu—the cloud banner. This king had no heirs. He was anxious to have a son, so he began to worship the Kalpavriksha—the tree that fulfils all wishes. He prayed with such wholehearted devotion that one day, the tree spoke: ‘Your dedication has pleased me much, O mighty king. I have granted your wish. Soon, a son will be born to you. He will be a man of unwavering righteousness.’

  By the blessings of the Wishing Tree, a son was born to Jimutaketu. The king ordered a grand celebration and distributed gifts lavishly to all his people. On the day of the naming ceremony, the baby boy was christened Jimutavahana—cloud rider.

  Jimutaketu’s kingdom was prosperous. All his subjects revered Lord Shiva and followed the precepts of religion, as well as the laws framed by the king.

  In time, Jimutavahana grew into a young man and began to rule along with his father. The land continued to thrive. There was never any calamity, the crops never failed and each man lived in peace with his neighbour. The reason was that both father and son set such a good example that their subjects could not help but emulate them.

  Like his father, Jimutavahana worshipped the Wishing Tree with great dedication. The tree was pleased, and spoke to him one day: ‘You have been such a steadfast devotee, Jimutavahana, that I am pleased to grant you a boon. Ask for whatever you wish.’

  The good-hearted Jimutavahana folded his hands and said, ‘O celestial tree, if I have indeed pleased you with my devotion, I ask you to remove poverty from this world.’

  ‘It shall be as you wish,’ said the tree.

  And just as Jimutavahana had requested, by the power of the Wishing Tree, everyone in the world became prosperous. As a result, people stopped working, since they always had enough money for their needs. Having acquired this great boon for the people, Jimutavahana and his father now devoted themselves to the pursuit of virtue. They gave up trying to govern the land and administer justice, and law and order.

  This ideal state of affairs had an effect that neither of them could have foreseen. Their relatives began eyeing their kingdom. ‘Both father and son concern themselves only with practising and cultivating virtuous qualities,’ they told each other. ‘The people don’t need to work for a living, so they have become used to an idle existence. This kingdom is like a ripe fruit, ready to fall into our hands.’

  They raised an army and surrounded the capital city.

  King Jimutaketu was horrified when he saw troops massed around his walls. ‘We are under attack,’ he told Jimutavahana. ‘What shall we do now, dear son?’

  ‘What else shall we do, dear father, but fight them?’ Jimutavahana replied. ‘We will put up a strong resistance and repel the invaders. We will show them that our kingdom is as strong as ever.’

  ‘I do not think we should follow that course, son,’ his father demurred. ‘This body, this wealth is all temporary, only virtue endures. It is better to have a sip of milk than own a hundred cows, and the humble prayer mat is more valuable than the most splendid mansion. I cannot dream of fighting and taking another’s life to maintain my kingly glory. These enemies are our relatives. Remember how bitterly Yudhisthira regretted it when he killed his own kin to gain a kingdom.’

  ‘I respect your wishes, dear father,’ Jimutavahana replied. ‘If you do not wish to defend our land, let us gift it to our kinsmen. After that, we will adopt the ascetic’s life and retreat into the forest to engage in prayer and penance.’

  Father and son gave away their kingdom to their relatives and, along with the queen, Kanakavati, headed for the Malayas, a mountain range that lay in the far south of the country. They chose a quiet spot, built a small hut for themselves and began to lead a simple life. There were other men around, too, who had chosen a similar kind of existence. Jimutavahana soon made a friend, a young man named Madhura, the son of an ascetic. They spent much time together, wandering over the mountains.

  One day, while they were exploring their surroundings, Jimutavahana discovered a temple dedicated to the goddess Gauri, Shiva’s consort. When he entered, he came upon a lovely maiden playing a lute. She looked up at him, and the two were instantly attracted to each other. After he had offered his prayers, Jimutavahana left reluctantly.

  The young woman was eager to meet him again and decided to visit the temple the next morning. The same thought occurred to Jimutavahana as well. When he got there, he asked the young woman who’d accompanied the maiden, ‘Please, could you tell me who your friend’s father is?’

  ‘King Malayaketu,’ replied the companion, ‘and she is Princess Malayavati. And sir, can you please tell me who you are and where you come from? You look like the incarnation of Manmatha, the god of love himself.’

  ‘I am the son of King Jimutaketu, the ruler of the vidyadharas,’ the young man answered. ‘Jimutavahana is my name. Our relatives usurped our kingdom and we have come here to lead the ascetic’s life.’

  The companion shared all that she had discovered with the princess. The princess now prayed fervently to the goddess Gauri. ‘Great goddess, please grant that Jimutavahana become my husband. If that is not possible, I will take my life!’ she pleaded. And then began to fashion a noose from her uttariya, her upper garment, to show her desperation and determination.

  To her delight, the goddess’s voice rang in her ears: ‘Your devotion has pleased me much, dear daughter,’ she said. ‘Jimutavahana, and none other, shall be your husband.’

  Jimutavahana was watching the princess, hidden close by. Her words gave him great hope and he went back to his father’s hut, filled with excitement.

  The princess, too, returned to her palace in a state of agitation, not knowing what to do next. She shared her secret with her companion, who, in turn, decided to tell the queen, Malayavati’s mother.

  The queen felt it was time to discuss their daughter’s marriage plans with her husband. ‘My Lord,’ she began, ‘haven’t you noticed that our beloved Malayavati is no longer a child? She is old enough to be married. It’s time we began looking for a good match for her.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, dear wife,’ replied the king. ‘But who woul
d be right for our beloved daughter? Can you think of anyone?’

  Just then, their son, Prince Mitravasu, entered the room. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said to the king, ‘there is some interesting news. I have been informed that Jimutaketu, the king of the vidyadharas, is living in the nearby forest, along with his son, Jimutavahana. The news is that they have been dispossessed of their kingdom by their relatives.’

  The moment the king heard this, a thought flashed through his mind. ‘Son, you have brought this news at a very appropriate time. Your mother and I were talking about getting your sister settled. Why don’t we marry Malayavati to Jimutavahana? Please go to King Jimutaketu’s hermitage and beg Jimutavahana to come and meet us.’

  Prince Mitravasu headed there without delay. After exchanging formal greetings, he presented his father’s proposal, saying that Jimutavahana would make a good match for his sister. Jimutaketu accepted it immediately, and an auspicious date was fixed for the wedding ceremony. Soon, the marriage was solemnized on the chosen date, and Jimutavahana brought his bride back to his father’s hermitage. Malayavati began to live with them and became part of the small family.

  One morning, Jimutavahana decided to go for a walk in the mountains, along with his brother-in-law, Mitravasu. As they strolled along, enjoying the beauty of their surroundings, they suddenly came upon a large white mound.

  ‘What could this be?’ Jimutavahana asked, surprised.

  ‘It’s a heap of serpent bones,’ Mitravasu replied. ‘Young serpents come up from their kingdom in the underworld to be eaten by the mighty Garuda, the king of the birds. You know, he had vowed to destroy all the serpents in the universe in revenge for ill-treating his mother, Vinata. When he attacked them in the underworld, Vasuki, the serpent king, afraid that their whole race might be wiped out, made an agreement with Garuda—to sacrifice one serpent per day. Garuda has devoured thousands and thousands of them, and their bones are all piled up here.’

  ‘Oh . . . is that what it is?’ Jimutavahana commented with a shudder. He was silent for a while, then, looking up at the sky, he said, ‘Dear Mitravasu, the sun is climbing up behind the mountains. It’s time for my morning prayers and I cannot miss them for anything. But it’s also time for your morning meal. I don’t want to delay you. Why don’t you return home? I will join you shortly.’