51. Others, decked with new golden ornaments and wearing peerless yellow garments, fell down alas! helpless with sleep, like the boughs of the Karnikâra broken by an elephant.
52. Another, leaning on the side of a window, with her willow-form bent like a bow, shone as she lay with her beautiful necklace hanging down, like a statue in an archway made by art.
53. The lotus-face of another, bowed down, with the pinguent-lines on her person rubbed by the jewelled earrings, appeared to be a lotus with its stalk bent into a half-circle, and shaken by a duck standing on it.
54. Others, lying as they sat, with their limbs oppressed by the weight of their bosoms, shone in their beauty, mutually clasping one another with their twining arms decorated with golden bracelets.
55. And another damsel lay sound asleep, embracing her big lute as if it were a female friend, and rolled it about, while its golden strings trembled, with her own face bright with her shaken earrings.
56. Another lay, with her tabour, . . .
57. Others showed no lustre with their eyes shut, although they were really full-eyed and fair-browed, — like the lotus-beds with their buds closed at the setting of the sun.
58. Another, with her hair loose and dishevelled, and her skirts and ornaments fallen from her loins, lay with her necklace in confusion, like a woman crushed by an elephant and then dropped.
59. Others, helpless and lost to shame, though naturally self-possessed and endued with all graces of person, breathed violently as they lay and yawned with their arms distorted and tossed about.
60. Others, with their ornaments and garlands thrown off, — unconscious, with their garments spread out unfastened, — their bright eyes wide open and motionless, — lay without any beauty as if they were dead.
61. Another, with fully-developed limbs, her mouth wide open, her saliva dropping, and her person exposed, lay as though sprawling in intoxication, — she spoke not, but bore every limb distorted.
62. Thus that company of women, lying in different attitudes, according to their disposition and family, bore the aspect of a lake whose lotuses were bent down and broken by the wind.
63. Then having seen these young women thus lying distorted and with uncontrolled gestures, however excellent their forms and graceful their appearance, — the king’s son felt moved with scorn.
64. ‘Such is the nature of women, impure and monstrous in the world of living beings; but deceived by dress and ornaments a man becomes infatuated by a woman’s attractions.
65. ‘If a man would but consider the natural state of women and this change produced in them by sleep, assuredly he would not cherish his folly; but he is smitten from a right will and so succumbs to passion.’
66. Thus to him having recognised that difference there arose a desire to escape in the night; and then the gods, knowing his purpose, caused the door of the palace to fly open.
67. Then he went down from the roof of the palace, scorning those women who lay thus distorted; and having descended, undauntedly he went out first into the courtyard.
68. Having awakened his horse’s attendant, the swift Khamdaka, he thus addressed him: ‘Bring me quickly my horse Kamthaka, I wish to-day to go hence to attain immortality.
69. ‘Since such is the firm content which to-day is produced in my heart, and since my determination is settled in calm resolve, and since even in loneliness I seem to possess a guide, — verily the end which I desire is now before me.
70. ‘Since abandoning all shame and modesty these women lay before me as they did, and the two doors opened of their own accord, verily the time is come to depart for my true health.’
71. Then, accepting his lord’s command, though he knew the purport of the king’s injunctions, as being urged by a higher power in his mind, he set himself to bring the horse.
72. Then he brought out for his master that noble steed, his mouth furnished with a golden bit, his back lightly touched by the bed on which he had been lying, and endued with strength, vigour, speed, and swiftness;
73. With a long chine, and root of the tail and heel, — gentle, with short hair, back, and ears, — with his back, belly, and sides depressed and elevated, with broad nostrils, forehead, hips, and breast.
74. The broad-chested hero, having embraced him, and caressing him with his lotus-like hand, ordered him with a gentle-toned voice, as if he were desirous to plunge into the middle of an army:
75. ‘Oftentimes have evil enemies been overthrown by the king when mounted on thee; do thou, O best of steeds, so exert thyself that I too may obtain the highest immortality.
76. ‘Companions are easy to be found in battle or in the happiness obtained by winning worldly objects or in attaining wealth; but companions are hard for a man to find who has fallen into misfortune or when he flies for refuge to Dharma.
77. ‘And yet all those who in this world are companions, whether in sinful custom or in seeking for Dharma, — as my inner soul now recognises, — they too are verily sharers in the common aim.
78. ‘Since then, when I attain this righteous end, my escape from hence will be for the good of the world, — O best of steeds, by thy speed and energy, strive for thine own good and the good of the world.’
79. Thus having exhorted the best of steeds like a friend to his duty, he, the best of men, longing to go to the forest, wearing a noble form, in brightness like fire, mounted the white horse as the sun an autumnal cloud.
80. Then that good steed, avoiding all noises which would sound startling in the dead of night and awaken the household, — all sound of his jaws hushed and his neighing silenced, — went forth, planting his hurrying steps at full speed.
81. With their lotus-like hands, whose fore-arms were adorned with golden bracelets, the Yakshas, with their bodies bent down, threw lotuses and bore up his hoofs as he rushed in startled haste.
82. The city-roads which were closed with heavy gates and bars, and which could be with difficulty opened even by elephants, flew open of their own accord without noise, as the prince went through.
83. Firm in his resolve and leaving behind without hesitation his father who turned ever towards him, and his young son, his affectionate people and his unparalleled magnificence, he then went forth out of his father’s city.
84. Then he with his eyes long and like a full-blown lotus, looking back on the city, uttered a sound like a lion, ‘Till I have seen the further shore of birth and death I will never again enter the city called after Kapila.’
85. Having heard this his utterance, the troops of the court of the Lord of wealth rejoiced; and the hosts of the gods, triumphing, wished him a successful accomplishment of his purpose.
86. Other heavenly beings with forms bright like fire, knowing that his purpose was hard to fulfil, produced a light on his dewy path like the rays of the moon issuing from the rift of a cloud.
87. But he with his horse like the horse of Indra, the lord of bay horses, hurrying on as if spurred in his mind, went over the leagues full of many conflicting emotions — the sky all the while with its cloud-masses checkered with the light of the dawn.
BOOK VI.
1. THEN WHEN the sun, the eye of the world, was just risen, he, the noblest of men, beheld the hermitage of the son of Bhrigu,
2. Its deer all asleep in quiet trust, its birds tranquilly resting, — seeing it he too became restful, and he felt as if his end was attained.
3. For the sake of ending his wonder and to show reverence for the penances observed, and as expressing his own conformity therewith, he alighted from the back of his horse.
4. Having alighted, he stroked the horse, exclaiming, ‘All is saved,’ and he spoke well-pleased to Khamdaka, bedewing him as it were with tears from his eyes:
5. ‘Good friend, thy devotion to me and thy courage of soul have been proved by thy thus following this steed whose speed is like that of Târkshya.
6. ‘Bent even though I am on other business, I am wholly won in heart by thee, — one who has such a l
ove for his master, and at the same time is able to carry out his wish.
7. ‘One can be able without affection, and affectionate though unable; but one like thee, at once affectionate and able, is hard to find in the world.
2. An old mythic representation of the sun as a horse.]
8. ‘I am pleased with this noble action of thine; this feeling is seen towards me, even though I am regardless of conferring rewards.
9. ‘Who would not be favourably disposed to one who stands to him as bringing him reward? but even one’s own people commonly become mere strangers in a reverse of fortune.
10. ‘The son is maintained for the sake of the family, the father is honoured for the sake of our own (future) support; the world shows kindness for the sake of hope; there is no such a thing as unselfishness without a motive.
11. ‘Why speak many words? in short, thou hast done me a very great kindness; take now my horse and return, I have attained the desired wood.’
12. Thus having spoken, the mighty hero in his desire to show perfect gentleness unloosed his ornaments and gave them to the other, who was deeply grieved.
13. Having taken a brilliant jewel whose effect illumined his diadem, he stood, uttering these words, like the mountain Mamdara with the sun resting on it:
14. ‘By thee with this jewel, O Khamda, having offered him repeated obeisance, the king, with his loving confidence still unshaken, must be enjoined to stay his grief.
15. ‘“I have entered the ascetic-wood to destroy old age and death, — with no thirst for heaven, with no lack of love nor feeling of anger.
16. ‘“Do not think of mourning for me who am thus gone forth from my home; union, however long it may last, in time will come to an end.
17. ‘“Since separation is certain, therefore is my mind fixed on liberation; how shall there not be repeated severings from one’s kindred?
18. ‘“Do not think of mourning for me who am gone forth to leave sorrow behind; it is the thralls of passion, who are attached to desires, the causes of sorrow, for whom thou shouldst mourn.
19. ‘“This was the firm persuasion of our predecessors, — I as one departing by a common road am not to be mourned for by my heir.
20. ‘“At a man’s death there are doubtless heirs to his wealth; but heirs to his merit are hard to find on the earth or exist not at all.
21. ‘“Even though thou sayest, ‘He is gone at a wrong time to the wood,’ — there is no wrong time for religious duty (dharma), life being fragile as it is.
22. ‘“Therefore my determination is, ‘I must seek my supreme good this very day;’ what confidence can there be in life, when death stands as our adversary?”
23. ‘Do thou address the king, O friend, with these and such-like words; and do thou use thy efforts so that he may not even remember me.
24. ‘Yea, do thou repeat to the king our utter unworthiness; through unworthiness affection is lost, — and where affection is lost, there is no sorrow.’
25. Having heard these words, Khamda, overwhelmed with grief, made reply with folded hands, his voice choked by tears:
26. ‘At this state of mind of thine, causing affliction to thy kindred, my mind, O my lord, sinks down like an elephant in the mud of a river.
27. ‘To whom would not such a determination as this of thine cause tears, even if his heart were of iron, — how much more if it were throbbing with love?
28. ‘Where is this delicacy of limb, fit to lie only in a palace, — and where is the ground of the ascetic forest, covered with the shoots of rough kusa grass?
29. ‘When, on hearing thy resolve, I first brought thee this horse, — it was fate only, O my lord, which made me do it, mastering my will.
30. ‘But how could I, O king, by mine own will, knowing this thy decision, — carry back the horse to the sorrow of Kapilavastu?
31. ‘Surely thou wilt not abandon, O hero, that fond old king, so devoted to his son, as a heretic might the true religion?
32. ‘And her, thy second mother, worn with the care of bringing thee up, — thou wilt not surely forget her, as an ingrate a benefit?
33. ‘Thou wilt not surely abandon thy queen, endowed with all virtues, illustrious for her family, devoted to her husband and with a young son, as a coward the royal dignity within his reach?
34 ‘Thou wilt not abandon the young son of Yasodharâ, worthy of all praise, thou the best of the cherishers of religion and fame, as a dissolute spendthrift his choicest glory?
35, ‘Or even if thy mind be resolved to abandon thy kindred and thy kingdom, thou wilt not, O master, abandon me, — thy feet are my only refuge.
36. ‘I cannot go to the city with my soul thus burning, leaving thee behind in the forest as Sumitra left the son of Raghu.
37. ‘What will the king say to me, returning to the city without thee? or what shall I say to thy queens by way of telling them good news?
38. ‘As for what thou saidst, “thou must repeat my unworthiness to the king” — how shall I speak what is false of thee as of a sage without a fault?
39. ‘Or even if I ventured to speak it with a heart ashamed and a tongue cleaving to my mouth, who would think of believing it?
40. ‘He who would tell of or believe the fierceness of the moon, might tell of or believe thy faults, O physician of faults.
41. ‘Him who is always compassionate and who never fails to feel pity, it ill befits to abandon one who loves; — turn back and have mercy on me.’
42. Having heard these words of Khamda overcome with sorrow, — self-possessed with the utmost firmness the best of speakers answered:
43. ‘Abandon this distress, Khamda, regarding thy separation from me, — change is inevitable in corporeal beings who are subject to different births.
44. ‘Even if I through affection were not to abandon my kindred in my desire for liberation, death would still make us helplessly abandon one another.
45. ‘She, my mother, by whom I was borne in the womb with great thirst and pains, — where am I now with regard to her, all her efforts fruitless, and where is she with regard to me?
46. ‘As birds go to their roosting-tree and then depart, so the meeting of beings inevitably ends in separation.
47. ‘As clouds, having come together, depart asunder again, such I consider the meeting and parting of living things.
48. ‘And since this world goes away, each one of us deceiving the other, — it is not right to think anything thine own in a time of union which is a dream.
49. ‘Since the trees are parted from the innate colour of their leaves, why should there not still more be the parting of two things which are alien to each other?
50. ‘Therefore, since it is so, grieve not, my good friend, but go; or if thy love lingers, then go and afterwards return.
51. ‘Say, without reproaching us, to the people in Kapilavastu, “Let your love for him be given up, and hear his resolve.
52. ‘“Either he will quickly come back, having destroyed old age and death; or else he will himself perish, having failed in his purpose and lost hold of every support.”’
53. Having heard his words, Kamthaka, the noblest of steeds, licked his feet with his tongue and dropped hot tears.
54. With his hand whose fingers were united with a membrane and which was marked with the auspicious svastika, and with its middle part curved, the prince stroked him and addressed him like a friend:
55. ‘Shed not tears, Kamthaka, this thy perfect equine nature has been proved, — bear with it, this thy labour will soon have its fruit.’
56. Then seizing the sharp jewelled sword which was in Khamdaka’s hand, he resolutely drew out from the sheath the blade decked with golden ornaments, like a serpent from its hole.
57. Having drawn it forth, dark blue like a blue lotus petal, he cut his decorated tiara and his hair, and he tossed it with its scattered muslin into the air as a grey goose into a lake.
58. And the heavenly beings, with a longing to worship it, seized it re
spectfully as it was thrown up; and the divine hosts paid it due adoration in heaven with celestial honours.
59. Having thus divorced his ornaments and banished all royal magnificence from his head, and seeing his muslin floating away like a golden goose, the stedfast prince desired a sylvan dress.
60. Then a celestial being, wearing the form of a hunter, pure in heart, knowing his thoughts, approached near him in dark-red garments; and the son of the Sâkya king thus addressed him:
61. ‘Thy red garments are auspicious, the sign of a saint; but this destructive bow is not befitting; therefore, my good friend, if there is no strong preference in the matter, do thou give me that dress and take this of mine.’
62. The hunter replied, ‘It has given me my desire, O giver of desires, as by this I have inspired ] animals with confidence and then killed them; but if thou hast need of it, O thou who art like Indra, accept it at once and give me the white dress.’
63. With extreme joy he then took that sylvan dress and gave away the linen one; and the hunter, assuming his heavenly form, having taken the white garment, went to heaven.
64. Then the prince and the attendant of the horse were filled with wonder as he was thus going, and forthwith they paid great honour anew to that sylvan dress.
65. Then the great-souled one, having dismissed the weeping Khamda, and wearing his fame veiled by the sign of the red garment, went towards the hermitage, like the king of mountains wrapped in an evening cloud.
66. While his master, thus regardless of his kingdom, was going to the ascetic-wood in mean garments, the groom, tossing up his arms, wailed bitterly and fell on the ground.
67. Having looked again he wept aloud, and embraced the horse Kamthaka with his arms; and then, hopeless and repeatedly lamenting, he went in body to the city, not in soul.
68. Sometimes he pondered, sometimes he lamented, sometimes he stumbled, and sometimes he fell; and so going along, wretched through his devoted attachment, he performed all kinds of actions in the road without conscious will.
BOOK VII.
The Sanskrit Epics Page 927