by Visnu Sarma
And my sweet love has not come home;
deprived of her dear presence, how
deserted seems my house right now.
(132) A house is no home; where the wife stays,
that is called home as the proverb says;
what is a house without its mistress?
To me it is simply a wilderness.
(133) A virtuous and devoted wife
whose husband is her very life
Whose sole joy is his well-being—
the man who can boast of such a wife,
to him life is indeed a blessing.’
(134) Trapped in the murderous fowler’s cage
the female dove heard her husband’s words,
filled with such grief and tenderness.
She thrilled with supreme happiness.
(135) And then she spoke the following words.
‘No woman deserves the name of wife
who brings no happiness in her husband’s life;
when the husband is pleased
all the gods too are pleased.
(136) Let her be burnt to ashes entire
like a blossoming vine by forest-fire;
the woman who does not make her husband happy:’
And she continued in a nobler strain:
(137) ‘Pray, pay heed, my beloved, to what I speak
for I speak only what is for your good.
Protect always the suppliant at your feet
even at the cost of your own dear life.
(138) Here lies this bird-catcher at your doorstep,
seeking shelter, stricken by cold and hunger.
Pray welcome him and attend to his needs.
‘As we have heard:
(139) Whoever honours not as best as he can
the guest who arrives at sunset, loses
the merit entire of his virtuous acts
and takes the burden of the other’s sins.
(140) Harbour no grudge towards him, my lord, thinking:
‘Ha! This man has snared and bound my beloved.’
Snared I am by my own misdeeds and bound
with the fetters of acts done in former lives.
‘And so it is:
(141) Poverty and sickness, sorrow and bondage
and diverse calamities, these are all
the fruits of the tree of their own misdeeds
that all living beings commit constantly.
(142) Abandoning therefore all thoughts of hate
welling up by reason of my captivity,
fix your mind on virtue, on the path of duty;
offer this man the prescribed hospitality.’
(143) The dove heard her speak; her words flowing
from living goodness and virtue practised.
Heartened, he boldly hopped down from the tree,
approached the bird-catcher and addressed him thus:
(144) ‘A warm and sincere welcome to you, sir!
what service can I do for you; tell me.
Feel at ease, consider yourself at home.’
(145) These kind words of the turtle dove brought forth
this cold reply from that murderer of birds.
‘I am chilled to my bones, indeed, O dove!
Do something to protect me from the frost.’
(146) The dove flew off; he returned with lingering
embers of a forest-fire; and soon
in a bed of dry leaves he kindled a fire.
(147) ‘Come, come warm your limbs freely, have no fear
But alas! I have no means whatsoever,
to still your hunger-pains,’ said the turtle dove.
(148) ‘One man maintains a thousand, another
a hundred men, yet another ten men.
But I, with little merit to my credit
can barely maintain my puny little self.
(149) What use is it leading the householder’s35 life
fraught with a million hardships and sorrows
if one lacks the wherewithal to feed even
one single guest who comes to one’s door?
Let me therefore dispose of this body
racked by sorrow, so that never again
need I say with shame, “I have nothing”
to a needy guest who comes to my door.’
(151) Himself he blamed, that noble dove; no word
harsh did he utter against that fowler.
Only he said, ‘Wait just a little while,
I may yet satisfy your need, my friend.’
(152) And then that magnanimous soul, thrilling
inwardly with rapture went right round the fire
and entered it as if it were his home.
(153) Seeing the poor dove plunge into the fire,
tortured by searing pity, the fowler
spoke these words:
(154) ‘The man who does evil
can have no love for himself, that’s for sure.
One eats the fruit all by oneself
of evil done by one’s own self.
(155) I am nothing if not evil-minded,
one who always delights in evil deeds.
It is certain that I am headed
for the deepest and most terrible hell.
(156) By offering me, evil beyond compare,
his own flesh for food, this high-minded dove
has held up a mirror for me to see
a reflection in reverse of myself.
(157) So, from this day on I’ll make my body
deprived of all its comforts, dry up
like tiny pools of water in summer’s heat.
(158) Cold, wind and heat I shall endure,
grow gaunt of face and frame, unkempt,
keeping many different fasts; thus,
I shall walk Virtue’s highest road.’
(159) Then the fowler broke his cudgel,
and stick; his nets and cage as well.
And the forlorn female dove
he released from captivity.
(160) Freed by the fowler, the dove in horror
beheld her lord burning in the fire.
Her heart was gripped by sorrow and fear;
desolated, she began to lament.
(161) ‘O! My dearest love! Without you
I have nothing left to live for.
Bereft of her husband, forlorn,
what profits it a woman to live.
(162) Self-respect, the esteem of others,
a sense of one’s own identity,
pride of birth, honour paid by one’s kin,
authority over servants
command of dependants;
all vanish with widowhood.’
(163) Lamenting thus most piteously,
over and over again
in immeasurable sorrow,
that virtuous wife walked straight ahead
into that blazing fire.
(164) Then clad in garments celestial,
adorned with gems and jewels divine
the turtle-dove beheld her lord.
seated in a chariot divine.
(165) He too having assumed a form divine
spoke these words enshrining highest truth:
‘Joy! O joy indeed!
My gracious lady!
Oh! What an admirable deed
is this you have done in following me!
(166) As many hairs grow on human body
three crores and a half, that many
years shall those wives live in the World of Light36
who follow their husbands in death.’
Thus transported with joy the saintly dove helped his wife to mount the chariot, clasped her in an embrace and lived happily with her. As for the fowler, he was sunk in the deepest despondency. Setting his face towards death, he entered the great forest.
(167) There, he saw a great forest-fire blazing.
All desires extinguished he entered it.
His moral blemishes all burnt away,
he rejo
iced as an immortal would
in the World of Light.
‘And hence, I say to you, “We hear of the turtle dove…” and the rest of it.’ Having heard the tale. King Foe Crusher, now turned to his third minister, Flame Eye, and asked him, ‘Now, what is Your Honour’s opinion, as things stand at this moment.’
The minister answered thus:
(168) ‘She who constantly shrank from me
Now clasps me in close embrace.
O! Benefactor! May you be blessed!
Take what you will of mine.
‘To which the thief’s reply was:
(169) ‘Nothing worth taking of yours I see,
if sometime there should be a thing
worth taking, I’ll come for it, you bet;
but not if she will closely cling.’
‘Who is she who will not embrace? And who is this thief?’ asked Foe Crusher. ‘I’d like to hear this tale in all its detail.’ And Flame Eye then began the tale of Old Man, Young Wife.
In a certain town there once lived an old merchant named Lovesick.37 So besotted with love’s passion was he that when his wife died, he straight away married the young daughter of a very poor merchant, paying a great deal of money for her. But the poor girl was so heart-broken that she could not even bear to look at the old merchant; which was quite predictable:
(170) When Age places its frosty foot
upon a man’s head
turning his hair all white,
that itself marks it the fittest place
for his disgrace.
For young women shun him and flee
miles away, as if he were
the hangman’s hollow, chock-full
of fragments of whitening bones.
And furthermore:
(171) When the body is shrivelled
and the steps falter;
when the teeth are decayed
and the face smeared with slobber;
when the sight fails
and the figure is no longer trim;
then, kinsfolk find no time for conversation,
and the wife pays scant attention;
even the son despises the man
overcome by old age, alas!
One day as the young girl lay in the marriage bed with her face averted, a thief happened to enter the house. Seeing the thief the girl became mortally afraid and embraced her husband closely, clinging to him. He on his part, was taken completely by surprise. His whole body thrilled with pleasure as he reflected, ‘Amazing, this… what makes this girl embrace me tonight, hey?’
Then peering around, he noticed the thief skulking in one of the corners of the bedchamber. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see now what it all is. My wife clings to me in fear of this thief and for no other reason, I bet.’
Seeing how matters stood, the old merchant called out to the thief, thus:
(172) ‘She who always shrank from me
now clasps me in her close embrace.
Oh! Benefactor of mine! Blessed may you be!
Take what you will of mine.’
To this, the thief’s reply was:
‘Nothing of yours I see worth taking, sir:
(10) if sometime there is a thing worth taking
I shall be back for it, you bet,
but not if she should closely cling.’
‘So, an advantage, even if it is provided only by a thief, has value; so much the better if it comes through a suppliant seeking sanctuary.
‘And besides, when we consider how grossly mistreated this fellow has been by his own people, we can expect him to work zealously for our prosperity; or perhaps reveal to us their weak points. For these reasons, I recommend that his life be spared.’
Having listened carefully to these arguments, Foe Crusher turned to another of his ministers, the Honourable Hook Nose.
‘My gracious friend, what do you think ought to be done in the present situation?’ he asked.
And Hook Nose responded warmly, ‘Ah! My lord, on no account should this fellow be killed, the reason being:
(174) Even enemies at times might do one some good,
especially if discord springs up in their midst.
The robber granted the gift of life
and the fierce demon, a pair of cows.’
‘Ah! And how did that happen?’ asked Foe Crusher with interest. And Hook Nose then began the tale of The Brāhmana, the Robber and the Demon.
In a certain settlement there lived a Brāhmana in abject poverty, surviving solely on gifts made by donors on festive and other occasions. His life was one of total privation; deprived of fine clothes and adornments, precious oils and ointments, perfumes and garlands, scented betel, creams and so on; in fact he lacked all the good things of life. From enduring heat and cold and rain, his frame had grown gaunt and covered with rough, bristling hair. The hair on his head and his beard were long and unkempt; his nails had grown long and horny.
Some kind person taking pity on the poor Brāhmana had once gifted him two little calves. From the time these creatures were tiny, the Brāhmana had tended them with affectionate care; feeding them melted butter, sesame oil, grass and other nourishing fodder that he had got by begging, until, in no time they grew sleek and plump.
A certain robber happening to notice these fine animals thought immediately, ‘I shall steal this pair of fine cows from this Brāhmana.’
He set to work on the idea. He got hold of a rope and at night he set out towards the Brāhmana’s house. Halfway, he met a fellow who had a row of pointed teeth set with wide gaps between them and a high-bridged nose and hollowed-out cheeks. He was cross-eyed to boot; his body was tawny in colour like a blazing fire amply fed with butter and looked as if it had been strung together with knotted veins and sinews.
Trembling horribly with terror, the robber quavered, ‘Who might Your Honour be?’
‘I? I am the demon-spirit38 of a dead Brāhmana who had led an execrably evil life. My name is True Speech.39 Now it is your turn, Your Honour, to introduce yourself,’ answered the demon.
‘A robber, sir,’ the man replied, ‘At your service, sir; one delighting in acts of cruelty. Right now, I am on my way to a poor Brāhmana’s place, to steal his pair of cows.’
The demon felt greatly relieved hearing this and said to the robber, ‘Oh, my friend; I am one of those who eats only every sixth meal.40 So I might as well make a meal of that same Brāhmana you mentioned. The arrangement seems to be working out beautifully, I think, since we appear to be headed in the same direction and for an identical purpose.’
They proceeded together to the house of the poor Brāhmana and hid in a secluded corner waiting for the proper time to carry out their evil designs. When the Brāhmana had fallen asleep, the demon, True Speech, decided it was time to come out of hiding and start on his dinner. The robber noticed his move and restrained him, saying, ‘No, you don’t. Oh, no, sir; this is not right, my good friend. You had better wait until I have stolen the cows and departed. Then you can go ahead and have your dinner and eat the Brāhmana.’
To which the demon retorted, ‘Now look here, my good sir; supposing the sounds you make awaken the Brāhmana, what then? My enterprise would fail even before it has begun.’
At this point, the robber observed rather testily, ‘On the other hand, if there is some interruption during the course of your meal; if some hindrance or other crops up, I shall not be able to make away with the pair of cows. You see that, don’t you? Therefore, I shall first steal the Brāhmana’s pair of cows; then you can have your dinner.’
And so, the pair of them carried on, wrangling, arguing as to who should do his thing first, each crying, ‘I first, then you, I first….’ They made such a racket that the unholy noise woke the Brāhmana. As he sat up, the robber lost no time informing him what the demon was up to, ‘Hey there! You Brāhmana! You see this demon here? He is planning to have you for his dinner tonight.’ The demon at once countered with. ‘This fellow here, he is a robber and what d
o you think he is up to? He is after your fine pair of cows.’
Hearing them both, the Brāhmana became alert to the dangers facing him. He rose at once and by meditating on his chosen deity and silently articulating the requisite incantation, he saved himself from the demon’s dreadful designs. Then lifting up a stout cudgel he sent the robber packing and saved his cows.
‘Therefore, I said to you, “Even enemies at times…” and so forth. And besides:
(175) As the chronicles tell it, saintly Śibi,
eager to earn holy merit, offered
the hawk his own flesh unhesitating,
as ransom for the dove that sought refuge.
‘To slay a supplicant, my lord, is to go against the Law.’
Having ascertained Hook Nose’s views, Foe Crusher then turned to Rampart Ear and asked him courteously, ‘Tell me, sir, what advice does Your Honour have for me?’
‘No, my lord,’ answered the minister, ‘This crow ought not to be slain. For by sparing his life, affection might develop between the two of you; who knows? And then you might spend pleasant hours in each other’s company. As the story retails it:
(176) Creatures who do not keep secret
the traits that make each vulnerable,
surely perish, like the two snakes whose homes
were the anthill and the prince’s belly.’
Foe Crusher asked in surprise, ‘Really? And how was that?’ And Rampart Ear then began the tale of The Snake in the Prince’s belly.
In a certain city there ruled a king named Shining Power whose son wasted away in every limb because a snake had made his belly its home in place of an anthill. Overcome by acute depression, the prince decided to leave home and go to some distant land. He made his home in a great temple in one of the cities of the kingdom he came to and lived by begging for alms.
The ruler of that kingdom, King Bounteous,41 had two daughters who had just entered womanhood. One of them approached the king each morning and bowing at his feet greeted him with, ‘May His Majesty be ever victorious!’ while the other simply said, ‘Enjoy your just desserts, Your Majesty!’ This greeting finally angered the king so much that he summoned his ministers one day and said, ‘Honourable Counsellors, take this princess away, for her words grate on my ears. Marry her to some foreigner and let her enjoy her just desserts.’
Acquiescing in the royal whim, the ministers took the princess waited upon by a mere handful of attendants, to the temple where the unfortunate prince had taken sanctuary; and they gave the princess in marriage to him.