by Haskar
The queen was installed in comfort on the top floor of the palace, with all requirements for the weather and various foods prescribed by the physicians—not too hot or sour, salty or sweet, bitter or astringent. There she moved about from one room to the other as her pregnancy ripened, without hearing any displeasing sounds, her body adorned with pearl strings, like a nymph in the garden of paradise.
Drums were joyfully sounded at the boy’s birth. The king had the city cleared of stones, pebbles and gravel, sprinkled with sandalwood water and decorated with flags, fine incense and all kinds of flowers. ‘Distribute gifts to monks and priests, poor people and beggars,’ he commanded, ‘and release all prisoners.’ After three weeks, the birth rite was performed and the naming ceremony arranged. ‘What should be the prince’s name?’ the ruler asked, to which the ministers said, ‘He is the son of King Mahadhana, so it should be Sudhana.’ And so was he named.
Eight nurses were appointed to look after Sudhana. Nourished on milk and yoghurt, butter, ghee and other choice foods, he grew rapidly like a lotus in a lake. Then he was entrusted to the care of teachers: of letters and numbers, accounts and finance, acquisition and disposal of assets. He also learnt how to inspect buildings and lumber, young men and women, gemstones and textiles, horses and elephants, and how to interpret the inspections of these eight as a scholar and expert.
He also learnt the skills of warriors and kings who must rule the earth: riding the elephant, the horse and the chariot; wielding the sword and the bow, the goad and the lance; cutting and piercing; using the fist, the head and the feet; shooting hard with arrows, from afar and at the sound; retreating and advancing. His father built three palaces with parks for him, one each for the winter, the summer and the rains. He also arranged three harems there, with older, middling and young denizens. There Prince Sudhana would sport, dally and make love, surrounded by music and with no men around.
The prince was out on the chase one day when he was seen by the hunter Phalaka, who had in tow the beautiful nymph Manohara whom he had captured earlier. How he did so is another story, but on seeing the handsome prince he said to himself, ‘That is a prince and this is a most exquisite beauty. If he sees her, he will take her by force. Perhaps I should offer her as a gift myself.’ Approaching Prince Sudhana, he fell at his feet, saying, ‘Sire, I have brought this jewel of a woman as a gift for you. Please accept her.’
It was then that the prince beheld the nymph Manohara. She was beautiful, delightfully pleasing to look at, and blessed with all good qualities. Seeing that slender-waisted girl, with a complexion of burnished gold and her garlands in disarray, he was immediately swept off his feet, firmly caught in the noose of passion.
When Sudhana beheld her,
whose face was as the moon,
it was like a lightning flash
from within a monsoon cloud:
with tender, loving, amorous thoughts
for her, within him welling up,
his heart was pierced by passion’s dart.
He rewarded the hunter with the gift of a village, and returned with Manohara to Hastinapura. There they stayed in his palace, sporting, dallying and making love. So enthralled was he by her beauty, youth and her attentiveness to him, that he was unable to leave her side, even for a moment.
It so happened that about this time two brahmans arrived in the capital from the countryside. One was engaged by the king and the other by Prince Sudhana. While the first was made the royal priest and given much wealth, the second received but a fraction of it.
‘Prince,’ he asked, ‘what will you do for me when you become the king after your father’s passing?’
The reply was: ‘Just as my father appointed your brahman colleague as his priest, so will I appoint you.’
This news reached the other brahman through a chain of ears. ‘I will so act,’ he decided, ‘that the prince does not succeed to the kingdom. How will he then make that fellow the royal priest?’
Meanwhile there was a rebellion in a hill town the king had conquered in the past, and to quell it he sent a force which came back defeated and decimated. After this happened several times, the ministers told him, ‘Majesty, why let our strength deplete and the other side’s grow? Let all those who live by arms in your realm be mobilized.’
Realizing that this provided the time and the opportunity for having the prince killed, the royal priest also addressed the king: ‘Sire, they cannot be subdued thus,’ and, on the king asking, ‘Should I then go myself?’ he replied, ‘Why should Your Majesty go? Here is Prince Sudhana, proud and strong. Let him be sent with your army.’
The king agreed and summoned his son. ‘Go, prince,’ he said, ‘take a force and subdue that town.’
‘So I will, sire,’ said Prince Sudhana, and returned to his harem. But he forgot it all on seeing Manohara. The king spoke to him again but, at the sight of Manohara, he forgot it once more.
The priest then told the king, ‘Majesty, it is impossible to send Prince Sudhana because he is so attached to Manohara. So, get the troops ready, and when the prince leaves the harem, he should be dispatched without seeing the girl.’
‘Act accordingly, gentlemen,’ the king commanded his ministers, and they had the army readied with elephants, horses, chariots and infantry, equipped with all kinds of weapons and war machines.
‘Go, prince, the army is ready,’ they said as he came out.
But he addressed the king: ‘Majesty, I will go after seeing Manohara.’
‘Do not see her, prince, the time is passing.’
‘Father, if that is so I will see my mother, and go.’
‘Go, prince, see your mother.’
Then, taking Manohara’s crest-jewel, he went to his mother and fell at her feet. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘I’m leaving to subdue the hill town. Keep this crest-jewel hidden and protected. Do not give it to Manohara unless her life is in danger.’ Having thus advised her and taken leave, he set forth to the sound of drumbeats with an army of diverse warriors. Passing through several districts one after another, he camped for the night at the foot of a tree not far from the hill town.
At that very time Vaishravana, the emperor of the yaksha demigods, was travelling that way to a meeting of his subjects, when his flying chariot came to stop in mid-air. ‘I have gone this way many times,’ he wondered, ‘but my chariot has never stopped before. What could be the reason?’ Then he saw Prince Sudhana. ‘This is the Bodhisattva of our auspicious age,’ he observed. ‘He is heading for a battle and may land into trouble. He has to be helped. That hill town must be subdued without harming any creature.’ He then summoned Panchika, the commander of his army. ‘Prince Sudhana’s hill town must be subdued without a fight,’ he ordered, ‘and no creature should be harmed.’
‘So be it,’ said the general, and created a fourfold divine army: men as tall as palm trees, elephants as huge as hills, horses as large as elephants. Brandishing swords, clubs and other weapons, and with bands making a din to create terror, he and that great host soon reached the hill town.
Its residents were distraught. ‘From whence this mighty army?’ they shouted.
‘Open the gates quickly!’ they were told. ‘Prince Sudhana is coming behind. This is his force. It will do you no good at all if you continue to resist.’
So the people of the town opened the gates and went out with banners upraised, urns replenished and music playing to meet the prince. He arrested the rebel leaders and reassured the populace, appointing congenial officials, abolishing taxes and enlarging the town before turning back.
That night king Mahadhana had a dream. He saw a vulture come, tear open his belly, pull out his entrails and spread them around the city as seven spirits entered a house. Frightened and alarmed, the king awakened quickly. ‘Let this not be a sign of my losing the kingdom or my life,’ he worried as he sat on his great bed, holding his head. In the morning he recounted the dream to his royal priest.
‘It is certain from His Majesty’
s dream that the prince has subdued the hill men,’ the priest reflected, ‘so some false interpretation must be worked out.’ Thinking thus, he said to the king, ‘Sir, this is not a good omen. You will either lose the kingdom or your life. But there is a remedy for it, seen in the books of the brahmans.’
‘What is it?’ the king demanded.
‘Sire, a nice lotus tank must be dug in the park,’ was the reply. ‘It should be the size of a man, lined with mortar to smoothen its walls, and filled with the blood of a young deer. Your Majesty should descend into this tank, one step at a time. Then, four brahmans versed in the Vedas must lick your feet and anoint them with the fat of someone of the kinnara species.3 Thus will you be cleansed of sins and rule the kingdom long.’
‘All this is possible,’ the king observed, ‘but a kinnara’s fat will be extremely difficult to obtain.’
‘Whatever is difficult, sire, is also easy,’ was the reply.
‘How so?’ the king asked, to which the priest said, ‘Well, sire, Manohara is a kinnara woman.’
‘Don’t speak like this, priest,’ the king retorted, ‘the prince’s life depends on her.’
At this the brahman recited a verse:
Give up one person for the family,
give up the family for the village,
for the country’s sake, the village give up,
for your own, forsake the earth.
So, being firm yourself, O king,
you can for that sagacious prince
always get another consort
after getting Manohara killed.
Now there is nothing that people full of their own selves will not do. The king agreed, and the priest set the events in motion. The tank was dug, lined smoothly with mortar, and filled with the blood of fawns. The women from Sudhana’s harem were delighted to learn of the preparations. ‘We are young and beautiful,’ they fantasized, ‘the prince will sport with us.’
Manohara noticed their joy. ‘Why are you all so pleased?’ she asked, and was much troubled and distressed on being informed of the situation. She went to the prince’s mother, bowed at her feet and told her about it in piteous words.
The queen said that she would think about the matter but, when Manohara came to her again, realized its gravity. She then returned the crest-jewel and her original clothes to the girl. ‘Daughter,’ she said, ‘these were to be given to you only if your life was in danger, for which I cannot be blamed.’
Meanwhile the king had immersed himself in the blood-filled tank as arranged, and the brahmans were licking his feet, asking that the kinnara woman be produced immediately. At that very moment Manohara flew up in the sky with her crest-jewel and sped away, like a serpent released from a trap. The king saw her in the air and summoned the priest. ‘Our objective is not attained,’ he exclaimed, ‘the kinnara Manohara has fled.’
‘But our purpose has been served, sire,’ the priest told him, ‘your sins have been cleansed.’
Flying back to her home, Manohara stopped at the hermitage of a sage to salute him. ‘If Prince Sudhana comes searching for me at any time,’ she told him, ‘please give him this signet ring and tell him to turn back as the paths are hard and dangerous. But if he persists, please show him the way. To the north there are many mountain ranges to scale and rivers to cross while overcoming ogres, poisonous snakes and other obstacles before he can reach the kinnara king’s palace.’
In due course Prince Sudhana returned to Hastinapura after subduing the hill town and accepting its tribute. The king was very pleased to get this news. Shaking off the fatigue of travel, the prince went to his father, paid homage and took his seat before him.
‘Prince, you have returned with glory,’ said the king with great satisfaction.
‘It was by your grace, sir, that the hill town was subdued, its leaders apprehended and a caretaker appointed. Here are the tributes for the treasury.’
‘Son, it was well done,’ the king said, and as the former got up to leave after saluting his father, added, ‘Stay, prince. Let us enjoy these gifts together.’
‘I must go, sire. It has been a long time since I saw Manohara.’
‘No need to go today, prince. Stay and go tomorrow.’
‘Father, I must go right now.’
The reply left the king speechless. The prince went straightaway to his own palace, where he saw only a desolate harem door. He entered anxiously, but did not see Manohara anywhere. His heart sank as he rushed hither and thither, calling for her by name as the harem women came out. With stricken heart he questioned them at length, and was smitten by grief when they told him what had happened.
‘Why do you grieve, sir?’ they asked. ‘There are women much better than her in this harem.’
But, after learning from them about his father’s indifference and ingratitude, Sudhana rushed to his mother and dropped down at her feet. ‘Mother!’ he cried, ‘I cannot find Manohara! She of great beauty who has all the qualities my heart desires. Where has my Manohara gone? I have searched everywhere within my reasoning, but my mind is at a loss and my heart is on fire. She is my delight, my comfort and pleasure. Without her, my body burns. This is a calamity! How has it befallen me?’
‘My son,’ she replied, ‘Manohara was in a painful and difficult situation. So I let her go.’
‘How did this happen, mother?’ he asked, and she told him everything at length. He spoke about his father’s lack of concern, but then asked, ‘Where has she gone, mother? By what path?’
She replied:
It is a pathway long, my son,
on which Manohara did set out,
by sages and wild beasts frequented,
and on it dwells the god of death.
The prince was miserable. Pitifully did he lament, suffering the sorrow of separation from Manohara.
‘There are far better women than her in this palace, son,’ said his mother, ‘why need you grieve so much?’
But he cried, ‘Where is my pleasure without her?’ and remained immersed in grief despite his mother’s efforts to comfort him.
Then the thought came to him, ‘I will go and seek at the very place where I got her,’ and he went to the hunter who had presented her to him. ‘Where did you catch Manohara?’ he asked.
‘A sage lives on the side of that hill,’ said the hunter, pointing the way. ‘Along his hermitage is a pool with lotus flowers. She had gone into it for a bath when I caught her, as that sage knows.’
‘I must now go to that sage,’ thought Sudhana. ‘He will have her news.’
Meanwhile, the king had heard about the prince’s distress at his separation from Manohara. ‘Why are you so troubled?’ he asked his son. ‘I will get you a far better woman.’
‘Father, it is impossible for me to stay in the palace without getting Manohara back,’ Sudhana said, and would not relent even though the king spoke to him at length. The monarch then stationed guards at the city gates and crossroads to prevent the prince from leaving.
Sudhana stayed awake the whole night. It is said that there are five who sleep little and keep awake long: the man in love awaiting his beloved; the woman in love, awaiting her man; the leader of a robber gang; the night watchman; and the monk undertaking a vigil. ‘If I go out by the gate,’ the prince considered, ‘the royal guards and gatekeepers will be annoyed and may beat or arrest me. So I should leave by some unguarded exit.’ He got up, wrapped a blue lily garland around his head, and went to an unwatched place where he tied the garland to a flag pole and climbed down the city wall.
The moon had risen. Calling out to it for his beloved, and equally so to the trees and the animals of the forest, the prince reached the sage’s hermitage. ‘I salute you with bowed head, holy one,’ he said respectfully. ‘Tell me, have you seen my Manohara?’
The sage greeted Prince Sudhana with words of welcome, a seat and other offerings. ‘I have seen her,’ he said. ‘She was lovely to look at, with a beautiful face like the full moon, blue lotus eyes and dark
, arched eyebrows. Be comfortable, sir, and sample these various roots and fruit. I have no doubt that you will be successful. These were her words to you: “Prince, I am tormented by my longing for you. It is terrible to be in the forest. But I had to flee and it is certain that you will find me.” She gave me this signet ring, saying, “Prince, the paths are difficult and hard to traverse. Turn back!” To me, she then said, “But if he does not, show him the way.” And this is how she explained it.
‘“To the north there are three dark mountains. Cross them, and there will be three more and then three again. Thereafter will be Himalaya, the king of the mountains. It is there that you will find the medicinal herb Sudha. Cook it in ghee and drink the mixture; you will then have no hunger or thirst and your strength and memory will increase. Next, you must catch a monkey, learn an incantation, acquire a bow with arrows and a luminous gemstone as well as an antidote and a deadly poison, three iron spikes and a lute. To the north of Himalaya are other mountains which too you must cross. There you will need to surmount other obstacles: a goat-faced ram and a pale, demon-like man who must be slain. You must also valiantly slay in its burrow a great python which is swift to strike with its foaming mouth.
When half of it is in the burrow,
you must slay it, for my sake,
with an arrow loosened from your bow.
When you see two fighting rams,
break off a horn from each, and go.
Then, having seen two men of iron,
armed with weapons, terrifying,
smite one of them, and carry on.
Next an ogress you will see
gape and clench her iron mouth,
a spike into her forehead thrust.
Then leap across a mighty whirlpool,
some sixty hands its diameter,
and strike down with your bow full-bent