by Sivadasa
if one gives up women what use then is wealth?
‘Nectar’s bowl itself she is;
a veritable palace of delights;
Pleasure’s own treasure-trove:
Ah! Woman! Who did form her?
‘Riches are the fruit of good works;
happiness is the fruit of riches;
slender-bodied ladies are the source of happiness;
without them, where is happiness?
‘The beloved has slender limbs,
a face lovely as a lotus,
and charmingly rounded breasts, full and hard,
tightly wedged against each other.
She is delicate as a śirisa flower,
her arms are smooth and soft.
If a man does not embrace his beloved,
how vain and unprofitable is his life,
his birth in this world, his riches!
‘The lover who does not know the taste
of a woman’s lower lip, delicious
as a ripe berry, its ambrosial sweetness—
What on earth does he know? A mere beast!’
Mūladeva observed, thoughtfully: ‘Well, if that is so, then get up, O Brāhmana. Here, I give you the princess.’ And he placed a tiny magic ball in Vāmanasvāmi’s mouth. Vāmanasvāmi instantly became a very pretty girl, twelve years old. A second little magic ball he now placed in his own mouth, turning himself into a venerable Brāhmaṇa. Taking the girl by the hand, Mūladeva went to the palace. He gained an audience with the king who offered him a seat and accepting it Mūladeva bestowed his benediction on the king thus:
‘He who traversed the triple world,
assuming the form of a dwarf,
who caused a bridge of boulders built
across the ocean by a host of monkeys
—O, what a wonder that was!—
Who held on the palm of one hand
—a marvel indeed—the lordly mountain,
to protect the herd of cows; may He,
that luminous Ruler of the Universe116
always protect you from dangerous ways!’
The king asked Mūladeva: ‘O, Brāhmana, where are you from?’
‘Your Majesty, I live on the further bank of the Gangā and my respected wife is there even now. I have an only son, sixteen years of age; and one day my dear wife said to me: “Listen, O Brāhmana, arrange for the marriage of our son.” Therefore, I went to the houses of my kinsmen to ask for a bride for my son, but I was not able to find a suitable girl for him. So, I travelled to a distant land and having wandered around there, I finally found this girl and brought her to my son. He married her and took her to his own village. After several days, my son returned and sent the bride to her mother’s home. When four months had passed my respected wife said to me: “Listen, O Bráhmaṇa, bring home the bride for the ceremony on the fourth day of the month.” I went to bring the bride home. But even as I was nearing my home with my daughter-in-law, the village was subjected to a raid and my wife and son had fled, I don’t know where. The whole village was in a state of great alarm and lawlessness. Thinking presently that the place was unsafe for such a pretty girl as my daughter-in-law, I was at a loss where to go. For this reason while I am engaged in rendering my home secure with the help of my son, let this young bride be here, protected with the greatest care and handed over to me on my return.’
The king reflected: ‘If I do not do as the Brāhmana wants, he may lay a curse upon me; who knows?’ Marking how beautiful the young bride was, the king agreed. ‘I shall do as Your Reverence wishes,’ said he. And the old Brāhmana, Mūladeva in disguise, left the palace leaving the girl in the king’s charge.
Then, the king sent for his daughter and instructed her thus: ‘Dear daughter, this young Brāhmana bride ought to be protected with the greatest care in your apartments. Never let her out of your sight whether at mealtimes or at bedtime.’
The princess, mindful of the king’s instructions, took the Brāhmana bride by the hand and led her to her own apartments in the palace. At night the two girls slept in the same bed, conversing with each other.
Once the fake-maiden asked the princess: ‘Listen, dear princess, why do you appear so withdrawn and pensive? And so emaciated? Is there some secret sorrow lurking in your heart?’
The princess answered with these verses:
‘When someone good is not there to whom
the sorrows of one’s heart may be unfolded,
the heart leaps to the throat; and once again
the heart loses itself in the throat.
Few there are who appreciate fine qualities,
few offer their love to one who lacks wealth,
few there are to take care of the needs of others,
and few who grieve for the grief of others.
If with great difficulty, you obtain
the beloved whom you can cherish,
who is filled to overflowing with love for you,
you possess here, these three: happiness,
good companionship, Gangā.
O, śankara! Do not create!
If create you must, not human births!
If births, not the experience of love!
If love’s experience, not the grief of parting!
‘Why say more? One day I went to the pleasure groves with my companions to amuse myself. There I saw a young Brāhmana, handsome as the god of Love himself; our eyes met. But, I know neither his name nor do I know where he lives. That whole day my body knew intense torment. If he will only become my husband, then I shall live. This is the reason why I am so withdrawn and emaciated.’
Having heard these words of the princess, the fake-maiden said quietly: ‘If I present your beloved to you, what will you give me?’
The princess replied: ‘I shall be your slave for ever.’ The fake-maiden then removed the tiny magic globule from her mouth and at once became the young Brāhmana.
Seeing the man she loved standing there the princess became bashful. The Brāhmana then made love to her. Every night from then on, Vāmanasvāmi became himself, a man, and during the day he turned himself into a young girl. In six months time the princess became pregnant.
One day, the chief minister invited the king and his family to his home for dinner. The princess accompanied by her companion, the fake-maiden, arrived at the chief minister’s mansion, where his son saw the young Brāhmana bride. Captivated by the girl’s beauty, the chief minister’s son declared straightaway: ‘If this girl does not become my wife, I shall die.’ And he pined away, soon reaching the tenth stage in the course of decline of a disappointed lover. He confided his grief to his best friend who straightaway informed the young man’s father, the chief minister, who immediately sought the presence of the king and advised him of the situation.
‘Your Majesty, pray give this young Brāhmana bride to my son as his wife,’ said the chief minister.
The king exclaimed: ‘Is the wife of one man ever given in marriage to another? This is against the Law.’
The other ministers heard the king’s statement and advised him as follows: ‘Your Majesty, the chief minister’s son is determined to die. If his son dies the chief minister will not survive him; and if the chief minister should die the kingdom itself will waste away and fall. Looked at from every angle, it is desirable to give away the young Brāhmana bride.’
The king listened to the advice of his council and sent for the Brāhmana bride and told her, ‘You have to marry the chief minister’s son.’
And the girl replied: ‘But, Your Majesty, this goes against the Law, for I am already married.’
‘Look, it is your duty to always ensure the protection of the kingdom; so, go to the house of the chief minister’s son,’ ordered the king.
The girl demurred and said again: ‘Your Majesty, if I have to be given in marriage to the chief minister’s son, I demand that, he on his part should carry out a condition that I shall lay down. After the wedding ceremony, he should go on a six-mo
nth pilgrimage to sacred places. Only then, after his return, can he consummate his marriage to me.’
The chief minister’s son agreed and married the fake-maiden. Before he left on his pilgrimage he exhorted his first wife thus: ‘Listen, see to it that while I am away on my pilgrimage, this new bride and you, both sleep at night in the same bed. Keep each other company all the time; you understand? And mind you, stay home; don’t either of you go on visits to other people’s houses.’ Having strictly instructed his wife, the chief minister’s son set out on his pilgrimage.
At night, the two wives slept in one bed and conversed with each other, exchanging confidences.
On one occasion the first wife started this conversation. ‘Listen,’ she said to her co-wife, ‘I am devoted to my husband for sure; but I am not able to go out. My husband is not here and I am in the prime of youth. And you too, my dear friend, are no better off. What sins have you committed that Fate has led you here to my side? For you too have your own share of disappointment.’
The fake-maiden responded saying: ‘Well, if it pleases you to fall in with a suggestion of mine, I shall turn myself into a man and make love with you.’
‘What,’exclaimed the first wife. ‘Are you pulling my leg?’
The fake-maiden at once removed the magic globule from her mouth and turned straightaway into a man and made love to the other girl.
And so the days passed with Vāmanasvāmi, the fake-maiden assuming a woman’s form during the day and making love to the absent man’s wife in his own person as a man at night. Strong love grew between the two.
But why say anything more? When six months were over, the chief minister’s son returned from his pilgrimage. The two girls consulted each other anxiously: ‘This mean wretch, the chief minister’s son, is back. How can we now continue our life as passionate lovers?’
An idea flashed into the mind of the fake-maiden. ‘Look,’ she said earnestly. ‘While the folks are engaged in welcoming the chief minister’s son and performing various auspicious rites to celebrate his safe home-coming, let me assume my own form as a man and go out. I shall visit my benefactor, Mūladeva and acquaint him with the latest turn of events.’
Having decided that this was the best thing to do under the circumstances, Vāmanasvāmi became himself and went to consult that arch confidence trickster, Mūladeva. Mūladeva immediately swung into action. He turned himself into the venerable Brāhmana and his friend Śaśi into his alleged son, a youth of sixteen. Leading his son by the hand he went to the palace.
He asked for an audience with the king. Being granted it, he bestowed the customary benediction on the king who offered him a seat and asked after his health and well-being.
‘By God’s grace, all is well,’ responded Mūladeva in the customary fashion.
‘And who have we here?’ asked the king. ‘Who is this youth with you?’
‘Ah! This is my son, Your Majesty, whose young wife I entrusted to Your Majesty’s care some time ago. Kindly hand over the young lady to me.’
The king replied in great consternation: ‘O, holy Brāhmana, do me the favour of listening to what I have to tell you.’ And the king proceeded to acquaint the fake-Brāhmana with all that had happened after he had left his fake-daughter-in-law in the king’s care.
The fake-Brāhmana pretended to be very angry. ‘O, king,’, he said hotly; ‘What’s this? How can such a thing happen? How can my son’s wife be given in marriage to another man? I shall lay a curse upon you.’
‘O, Brāhmana, please do not be so angry with me,’ pleaded the king. ‘I shall give you whatever you ask for.’
And the fake-Brāhmana, again pretending to be mollified somewhat, demanded: ‘Well then, if you are prepared to give me whatever I ask for, then I demand that you give your own daughter to my son as his bride.’
The king discussed this demand with his council of ministers and fearing the Brāhmana’s curse, sent for the princess and made the formal offer of marriage to the Brāhmana’s son. The marriage of Śaśi, the fake-son of the fāke-Brāhmana Mūladeva to the princess was duly solemnized in public. Śaśi and Mūladeva then took the princess home with them.
The young Brāhmana Vāmanasvāmi had already arrived at Mūladeva’s place.
A hot argument ensued. The rogue Śaśi announced vehemently: ‘The princess is my wife.’ The Brāhmana Vāmanasvāmi countered this claim with: ‘But she is carrying my child in her womb; therefore she is my wife.’
Mūladeva was totally powerless to sort this mess.
Having narrated this tale, the genie said to the king: Tell me, O king, whose true wife is the princess?
King Vikramasena replied readily: ‘Why, of course, she is the wife of the rogue Śaśi.’
‘Why so?’ queried the genie. ‘She carries the child of the young Brāhmana in her womb. So, how is she not his wife?’
And the king answered: ‘Look here, the young Brāhmana entered by stealth; whereas, the rogue Śaśi and the princess were married before the whole world. Whether the child the princess gives birth to is a son or a daughter, that child will have the right to perform the last rites for the crafty Śaśi.’ Having heard the king’s answer, the genie went back to hang again from the branch of the Śinśipā tree.
Thus ends the fourteenth tale in the Five-and-Twenty Tales of the Genie of Śivadāsa.
TALE 15:
Of Jīmūtavāhana and His Supreme Sacrifice
With absolute devotion I bow
to the mighty lord, big-bellied,
Ruler of Obstacles, displaying
an elephant’s trunk and a single tusk.
Again, the king returned to that same spot, took down the corpse hanging on the śinŚipā tree; and as he started walking with the corpse slung across his shoulders, it began its storytelling. The genie began:
On the celebrated mountain of eternal snows, known as the Himālaya, there was the King of Vidyādharas, named Jīmūtaketu, Cloud-Banner. Childless, he began worshipping the Kalpavrksa, the Wishing Tree, to obtain a son. The tree spoke to him:
‘I am pleased with you, O King of Kings;
and I have granted you a son
of supreme righteousness, O, king.
He will soon be born; rest assured.’
As a result of this boon granted by the Wishing Tree a son was born to the king. The birth of the little prince was the occasion for great celebration and King Jīmūtaketu distributed sumptuous gifts to his people. And when it was time for the naming-ceremony for the newborn child, the name of Jīmūtavāhana Cloud-Rider, was selected. In the kingdom, everyone became devotees of Śiva; everyone joyously followed the path of the Law. And further,
Where the rule of Law prevails,
people are law-abiding;
where there is misrule, people are lawless;
under a rule that is only middling,
people too are middling.
The world follows this rule:
like ruler, like subjects.
Revelling in a perpetual round
of splendid festivities,
devoted to being of service to others,
all dedicated to performing sacrifices,
all Śudras intent on dispensing charity,
the entire populace lived in amity,
free from the passions of hate and lust,
with no fear of natural calamities
nor indeed of invading armies,
with no fear at all of outlaws and robbers,
of stinging insects and venomous creatures,
or of deaths after incessant rain;
where the God of Rain showered his bounty as desired,
and the earth was perpetually green,
with cows yielding pailfuls of milk,
trees year-round fruit,
and women faithfully fulfilling all wifely duties,
here, King Jīmūtavāhana ruled
in whom all great qualities were found finely blended.
King Jīmūtavāhana also adored
the Wishing Tree. And the Tree, being highly pleased spoke to the king:
‘O, Jīmūtavāhana ask for a boon,’ said the Tree. And Jīmūtavāhana requested the Tree thus: ‘O, Glorious Being! If you are truly pleased with me, banish, O, lord, all poverty from the face of the earth.’
‘So be it,’ blessed the Tree.
As a result of the gracious favour of the Wishing Tree, every single person on earth became possessed of wealth. No one cared a hoot for anyone; no one did anything. All remained living without putting their hand to any kind of work. King Jīmūtaketu, the father, and his son Jīmūtavāhana both remained immersed in cultivating Virtue. The art of government and the duties of kingship were abandoned, totally.
The kinsmen of the king began to think and discuss the situation amongst themselves. These two kings, father and son have turned to the pursuit of Virtue and Virtue alone. It is bruited around and said openly everywhere in the realm: “Nobody does anything; no one lifts his little finger!” In these circumstances, let us fight them and seize the kingdom,’ they talked like this amongst themselves.
Having decided to carry out their intentions, they came to the capital and surrounded it, laying siege to it.
King Jīmūtavāhana the father, consulted his son: ‘My son, what is to be done?’
‘Why, we shall fight them, of course, annihilate all of them and restore the greatness of the kingdom,’ replied the son. However, the father demurred and said:
‘Our bodies are impermanent
and wealth is transient;
we are forever face to face with death;
Virtue should be garnered.