by Ruskin Bond
When Udayana and Vasavadatta had run away as a part of his ministers’ plan, they were often despondent. On one such occasion, Vasantaka told a story for princess Vasavadatta’s amusement, a story that was funny and included a great many things.
The Courtesan Who Fell in Love
‘There is a city named Mathura, which is the birthplace of Krishna, and a famous courtesan, Rupinika, lived there. Her mother, Makaradanshtra, was an old madame and she appeared like a lump of poison to the young men who were attracted to her charming daughter. One day when Rupinika went to the temple at the time of worship to perform her duties, she saw a young man from a distance. That handsome young man affected her so deeply that she forgot all that her mother had taught her. She told her maid to urge the young man to visit her house that very day and the maid did as she was instructed. The man considered the invitation and then he said, “I am a Brahmin named Lohajangha and I have no money at all. What would I do in the house of Rupinika which is a place that only the rich can enter?” “My mistress does not want your money,” replied the maid and Lohajangha agreed to visit the house later.
‘Rupinika was thrilled when she heard from her maid that Lohajangha would come and see her. She went home and kept watch over the road that he would take and soon, Lohajangha arrived. When Makaradanshtra saw him she wondered where he had come from. Rupinika rose and went to welcome Lohajangha herself with great respect. She put her arms around his neck and led him into her private apartments. She was completely overwhelmed by Lohajangha’s many virtues and felt that she had been born only to love him. She gave up the company of other men and Lohajangha lived happily in her house.
‘Makaradanshtra, who had trained many courtesans, was very irritated with these developments and spoke to Rupinika privately. “Daughter, why do you keep the company of this poor man? A good courtesan would rather touch a corpse than a pauper! What can love possibly mean to a courtesan? Why have you forgotten this basic principle of your trade? The beauty of a sunset lasts only as long as the twilight and so also the beauty of a courtesan is shortlived. A courtesan should be like an actress and feign love so that she can acquire wealth. Get rid of this poor man before you destroy yourself!” Rupinika replied in anger, “Stop talking like this! I love this man more than I do my own life! I have enough wealth already, what will I do with more? Mother, you must never speak to me about this again!” Makaradanshtra was very angry when she heard her daughter’s words and began to think of a way to get rid of Lohajangha.
‘One day Makaradanshtra saw a nobleman coming down the road. He had lost all his wealth but was surrounded by his retainers who were carrying swords. She rushed up to him, took him aside and said, “My house has been occupied by a penniless lover. Come there today and behave such that he leaves at once. Then you can enjoy my daughter tonight!” The nobleman agreed and went into her house. Rupinika was at the temple at that time and Lohajangha had gone out somewhere. Suspecting nothing, Lohajangha came home a short while later and at once the nobleman’s servants fell upon him, kicking and beating him all over his body. They threw him into a filthy ditch and Lohajangha escaped from there with great difficulty. Rupinika was overcome by sorrow when she learned of what had happened. The nobleman saw this and left the way he had come.
‘Lohajangha, who had suffered the old woman’s intolerable atrocities, went to a pilgrimage spot, ready to give up his life for he could not bear to live without his beloved. He wandered in the desert, his heart burning with anger against Makaradanshtra and his skin burning with the heat of the sun. He looked around for some shade but he could not see a single tree. He came upon the carcass of an elephant that had been stripped of all its flesh by jackals. The body was like a shell with only the skin remaining and Lohajangha crawled into it and fell asleep. The breeze blew through the carcass and kept it cool. Suddenly, fierce clouds gathered and the rain began to pour down. The elephant’s hide shrank and there was no longer a way out of it. Soon the area flooded and the hide was swept away by the force of the water. It was carried into the Ganga and from there it floated into the ocean. A bird descended from the family of Garuda saw the hide and picked it up, carrying it to the other side of the ocean. It ripped it open to eat it but when it saw a man inside, it dropped it right there and flew away.
Lohajangha In Lanka
‘Lohajangha was roused from his sleep by the bird pecking at the hide and he crawled out of the hole made by the bird’s beak. He was astonished to find himself on the far shore of the ocean and was quite sure that he had dreamt everything. Then he saw two terrifying rakshasas who were eyeing him from a distance with fear. They remembered how they had been defeated by Rama and when they saw that Lohajangha was another mortal who had crossed the sea, their hearts were filled with fear. They discussed the matter amongst themselves and then one of them went and reported the incident to King Vibhishana. Vibhishana, who had also seen Rama’s power, was equally frightened at the arrival of another human and said to the rakshasa, “Go, my friend, and speak affectionately to that man. Tell him to honour me by coming to my palace.”
‘The rakshasa cautiously went up to Lohajangha and told him of Vibhishana’s invitation. Lohajangha accepted calmly and went with the rakshasa to Lanka and when he reached there, he was astonished at the number of golden buildings. He entered the royal palace and saw Vibhishana who welcomed him. The Brahmin Lohajangha blessed the king and Vibhishana asked him how he had got to Lanka. Lohajangha cleverly replied, “I am a Brahmin named Lohajangha and I come from Mathura. I was very poor and so I went to Vishnu’s temple and propitiated him with severe penances and fasts. Vishnu came to me in a dream and said, ‘Go to Vibhishana. He is my faithful devotee and he will give you much wealth.’ I said that Vibhishana lived in a place that I could not reach and then Vishnu said, ‘You shall see Vibhishana today!’ When I awoke, I found myself on the other side of the ocean. I have no idea how I got here.”
‘Vibhishana knew that Lanka was inaccessible so when he heard Lohajangha’s story, he thought to himself, “This man has divine powers!” and he said aloud to the Brahmin, “Stay here and I will give you lots of wealth!” He placed Lohajangha in the care of some man-eating rakshasas and he sent others to the Svarnamula mountain to fetch a young bird born in the family of Garuda. He gave the bird to Lohajangha so that he could get used to riding it in anticipation of his long journey back to Mathura. Lohajangha rode the bird around and rested in Lanka for some time, enjoying Vibhishana’s hospitality.
Why The Ground In Lanka Is Made Of Wood
‘One day he asked Vibhishana why the ground in Lanka was made of wood. Vibhishana explained, “Listen and I will tell you about this since you are curious. Long ago, Garuda, the son of Kashyapa, was eager to free his mother from slavery to the snakes that she had to endure to fulfil a promise. He wanted to eat something that would increase his strength as he prepared to fetch the elixir which would release his mother. Garuda went to his father who said to him, ‘Son, there is a huge elephant and a huge tortoise at the bottom of the ocean. They are in this form because they have been cursed. Go and eat them.’ Garuda brought them out to eat and perched on a branch of the kalpavriksha. The branch collapsed under his weight but Garuda held it in his beak out of respect for the Valakhilyas who were practising austerities there. Afraid that if he dropped the branch human beings would be crushed, Garuda took the advice of his father and put it down in an uninhabited place. Lanka was built on that branch and the ground here is therefore wooden.” Lohajangha was very pleased with Vibhishana’s story.
Lohajangha Outwits Makaradanshtra
‘Lohajangha wanted to return to Mathura and Vibhishana gave him many valuable jewels. Since Vibhishana was also a devotee of Vishnu who lived in Mathura, he gave Lohajangha a lotus, mace, discus and conch shell all made of gold to offer to the god. Lohajangha took all that Vibhishana had given him and climbed onto the bird that could travel one hundred thousand yojanas. He rose into the sky from Lanka and crossed the ocean, arr
iving in Mathura with no trouble at all. He came down from the air near a deserted monastery outside the city and hid all his jewels there. He tied up the bird and went to the marketplace where he sold one of the jewels. He bought clothes and food with the money and returned to the monastery. He then ate, fed the bird and adorned himself with new clothes, flowers and sweet perfumes.
‘When night came, he picked up the lotus, mace, discus and conch shell, mounted the bird and flew to Rupinika’s house. He hovered in the air over the place that he knew so well and made a low sound to attract his beloved, who was alone. Rupinika came out as soon as she heard the sound and saw, hovering in the night sky, a being shining with jewels who appeared to be Vishnu. “I am Vishnu and I have come here for your sake!” he said and Rupinika bowed her head and asked for his blessings. Lohajangha came down from the sky and tied up his bird. Then he went with Rupinika into her private apartments. He stayed with her for some time and then he came out, climbed onto the bird and flew away through the air.
‘The next morning Rupinika maintained a strict silence, thinking, “I am the wife of Vishnu. I can no longer speak to mere mortals!” Her mother asked her why she was behaving in this peculiar fashion and after much questioning, Rupinika placed a curtain between herself and her mother and recounted what had happened the night before and the reason for her silence. Makaradanshtra did not believe a word of what her daughter said until that night when she saw Lohajangha arriving on his bird. Early the next morning she went to her daughter, who was still behind the curtain, and said quietly, “Daughter, you have attained the status of a goddess here on earth because Vishnu has chosen you. I am your mother in this world! Grant me a favour for having given birth to you. Ask Vishnu to take me to heaven now, even in this tired old body.”
‘Rupinika agreed and when Lohajangha came to her that night disguised as Vishnu, she asked him to fulfil her mother’s wish. In the guise of the god, Lohajangha said to his beloved “Your mother is a wicked old woman and I cannot take her to heaven in front of everyone. But the doors of heaven are open on the morning of the eleventh day and many of Shiva’s ganas enter at that time, before anyone else. I can slip your mother in with them if she changes her appearance. Shave her head with a razor so that only five locks of hair are left and put a garland of skulls around her neck. Strip her of her clothes and cover her back with soot and her front with vermilion. Then she will look like a gana and I will be able to push her into heaven easily.” Lohajangha stayed with Rupinika a little while longer and then he left.
‘In the morning, Rupinika prepared her mother as she had been instructed and the old woman remained like that all day thinking about heaven. When Lohajangha arrived that night, Rupinika handed her mother over to him. He took the old woman, naked as she was and made-up as he had directed, climbed onto his bird and flew away. From the air, he saw a huge stone pillar with a disc on top of it in front of a temple. He set the old woman down on top of the pillar. She held onto the disc for support and swayed in the wind like a banner that announced her mistreatment of Lohajangha. “Stay here while I go and bless the world!” he said to her and disappeared.
‘Lohajangha saw that a crowd of people had gathered in the temple courtyard to maintain an all-night vigil before the temple festival. Lohajangha addressed them from the sky. “Listen! Today, in this very place, the destructive goddess of smallpox shall fall upon you! Come, take refuge in Vishnu!” The people of Mathura were terrified when they heard this voice from the sky and begged for Vishnu’s protection and prayed that the calamity should not befall them.
‘Lohajangha came down from the sky, took off his godly disguise and slipped, unnoticed, into the crowd. Sitting on top of the pillar meanwhile, Makaradanshtra began to worry. “The god has not returned and I have not yet reached heaven!” she thought. She could not hold any longer and began to slip off the pillar. “I am falling! I am falling!” she cried and when the people below heard this, they became hysterical with fear, believing that the smallpox goddess was about to descend on them, just as they had been warned. They began to shout, “Goddess! Do not fall! Do not fall!” The old and the young in Mathura somehow managed to get through that long night, fearing each moment that the goddess would fall on their heads.
‘When the night was finally over and morning came, they saw the old woman on top of the pillar in her wretched state. The people and even the king recognized her at once and they forgot their fear and burst into laughter. Soon Rupinika heard about the incident and came to the temple. When she saw that it was her mother who was on top of the pillar she was very embarrassed. She managed to bring her down with the help of the people gathered there. Everyone was dying of curiosity and asked Makaradanshtra what had happened to her. She told them the whole story.
‘The king, the Brahmins and the merchants who were there were sure that all this had been the work of some magician or sorcerer. They announced that whoever had tricked the old woman should reveal himself and he would be honoured immediately. Lohajangha came forward and when he was questioned, he narrated the whole story, right from the beginning. He offered the gifts sent by Vibhishana to Vishnu and the people gazed at them in wonder and admiration. The citizens of Mathura honoured Lohajangha and by the order of the king, Rupinika was made a free woman. Now that Lohajangha had taken revenge on Makaradanshtra for all the troubles that he had to endure because of her, he lived happily in Mathura with his beloved Rupinika, rich with the jewels he had brought back from Lanka.’
‘Kathamukha’, from Tales from the Kathasaritsagara by Somadeva, translated by Arshia Sattar. New Delhi; Penguin Books, 1994. The original Penguin edition carried diacritical marks. These have been dispensed with in this edition for the purpose of standardization.
Dushmanta and Shakuntala
Shovana Devi
In the days long, long gone by there was in India a great primeval forest. In it were giant banyans, thick with aerial roots like lion’s manes; lofty, sky-scaling deodars; and rows beyond count of tall sentinel-like palmyra trees. A little silvery brook, the Malini, wound in and out amongst them, and in the distance rose the encircling hills.
The waters of the Malini were still and unruffled, save for an occasional ripple. Upon their tranquil surface, as in a mirror, could be seen reflected the blossoming trees on its banks, patches of blue sky peeping through them, golden clouds, birds on the wing, and even the tops of hermits’ cottages rising amid the sacred groves surrounding them.
On either side of the Malini stretched miles and miles of jungle, a paradise of wild beasts and birds. Wild geese, with wings edged with gold, sported all day among its golden lotuses; long-necked cranes, those birds of infinite patience, would stand motionless for hours on one leg in its shallow water, sly and demure, ready to dart on any unfortunate little fish which might venture near them; while goldfinches and kingfishers wheeled about it at all hours. There were many species of smaller birds, too: swarms of mynas and parrots and parakeets, green as leaves, which sang in the sacred groves and built their nests under the eaves of the cottages. There frisked and bounded at pleasure little baby fawns away from their dams, now amidst the waving golden corn, now on the soft, grassy sward beside the cottages. In spring the koels sang among the flowers; in the rains the peacocks danced to the rumbling of the thundercloud.
On the bank of the Malini, beneath an ancient banyan, many centuries old, was the home of Father Kanva, a mighty sage. He wore long, matted locks gathered up into a knot on his head, and a white, reverend beard flowed down his aged breast. There lived with him his sister, Gautami, a holy matron of sweet temper and gentle disposition. Their cottage was of wattle and leaves, their dress of bark. There were glossy milchkine and restless calves in their cattle-pen; and there were also a few bark-clad hermit boys, pupils of Father Kanva.
These boys used to read the scriptures with him; they performed their sacred rites with the water of the Malini, and entertained his guests with the fruit of his trees and made offerings of woodland flow
ers to their deities. Daily they went to the wood to gather dry twigs and sticks for the sacred hearth-fire, and take their master’s cattle, black and white and brown, out to graze. There were green pastures for the kine and calves, and cool shades where their guardians, the little hermit-boys, could play and rest. There were sands where the boys could build their castles, clay to make their birds, reeds and bamboos for their flutes, broad banyan leaves for their rafts or ships, little fawns in the wood and peacocks in the trees to be their playmates. In the twilight they would either sit round Mother Gautami to hear the old tales of the battles of the gods and demons, or join Father Kanva in the chanting of sweet Sham-Vedic hymns.
Thus they had everything to make glad their hearts, saving that lamp of beauty, the little laughing girl Shakuntala. She was soon to come like a beam of heavenly light into their home. One midnight, when all the hermitage slept, the nymph Menaka abandoned there her new-born child. Wild birds, Shakuntas, or vultures, covered the babe with their wings and guarded her from harm, the creatures of the wood thus showing her more love than her own flint-hearted nymph-mother!
Early in the morning the hermit boys went to the woods, as was their wont, to gather fruits and flowers. They had gathered amloki, haritoki and ingli fruits by the hundred, and had begun to pluck the wild flowers for offerings when, lo! they came upon the fairy babe guarded by the birds, lying among the flowers, herself a fairer flower. They picked her up and took her to Father Kanva. The Shakuntas, her guardians, followed her to the hermitage, and after her the little fawns ran frisking; and the birds, loath to part from their tender ward, built their nests in the aged banyan tree above, and the fawns lay down below to be her playmates. She was given the name of Shakuntala, after the birds who had kept watch over her through the night.