Chapter CXIII

[M] (main story line continued) WHEN Naravāhanadatta, on the Black Mountain, had thus taken away the virtuous Suratamañjarī from his brother-in-law, Ityaka, who had carried her off, and had reprimanded him, and had given her back to her husband, and was sitting in the midst of the hermits, the sage Kaśyapa came and said to him:

“There never was a king and there never will be an emperor like you, since you do not allow passion and other feelings of the kind to influence your mind when you are sitting on the seat of judgment. Fortunate are they who ever behold such a righteous lord as you are; for, though your empire is such as it is, no fault can be found with you.

“There were in former days Ṛṣabha, and other emperors, and they, being seized with various faults, were ruined, and fell from their high state. Ṛṣabha, and Sarvadamana, and the third Bandhujīvaka, all these, through excessive pride, were punished by Indra. And the Vidyādhara prince, Jīmūtavāhana, when the sage Nārada came and asked him the reason of his obtaining the rank of emperor, told him how he gave away the wishing-tree and his own body,^[1] and thus he fell from his high position by revealing his own virtuous deeds. And the sovereign named Viśvāntara, who was emperor here, he too, when his son, Indīvarākṣa, had been slain by Vasantatilaka, the King of Cedi, for seducing his wife, being wanting in self-control, died on account of the distracting sorrow which he felt for the death of his wicked son.

“But Tārāvaloka alone, who was by birth a mighty human king, and obtained by his virtuous deeds the imperial sovereignty over the Vidyādharas, long enjoyed the high fortune of empire, without falling into sin, and at last abandoned it of his own accord, out of distaste for all worldly pleasures, and went to the forest. Thus, in old times, did most of the Vidyādhara emperors, puffed up with the attainment of their high rank, abandon the right path, and fall, blinded with passion. So you must always be on your guard against slipping from the path of virtue, and you must take care that your Vidyādhara subjects do not swerve from righteousness.”

When the hermit Kaśyapa said this to Naravāhanadatta, the latter approved his speech, and said to him, with deferential courtesy:

“How did Tārāvaloka, being a man, obtain in old time the sway over the Vidyādharas? Tell me, reverend sir.”

When Kaśyapa heard this he said:

“Listen, I will tell you his story.

 

169. Story of Tārāvaloka

There lived among the Śivis^[2] a king of the name of Candrāvaloka. That sovereign had a head wife named Candralekhā. Her race was as spotless as the sea of milk, she was pure herself, and in character like the Ganges. And he had a great elephant that trampled the armies of his enemies, known on the earth as Kuvalayāpīḍa. Owing to the might of that elephant the king was never conquered by any enemy in his realm, in which the real power was in the hands of the subjects.

And when his youth came to an end, that king had a son, with auspicious marks, born to him by Queen Candralekhā. He gave the son the name of Tārāvaloka, and he gradually grew up, and his inborn virtues of liberality, self-control and discernment grew with him. And the mighty-minded youth learned the meaning of all words except one; but he was so liberal to suppliants that he cannot be said ever to have learned the meaning of the word “No.” Gradually he became old in actions, though young in years; and though like the sun in fire of valour, he was exceedingly pleasing to look at^[3]; like the full moon he became beautiful by the possession of all noble parts; like the God of Love he excited the longing of the whole world; in obedience to his father he came to surpass Jīmūtavāhana, and he was distinctly marked with the signs of a great emperor.

Then his father, the King Candrāvaloka, brought for that son of his the daughter of the King of the Madras, named Mādrī. And when he was married, his father, pleased with the super-eminence of his virtues, at once appointed him crown prince. And when Tārāvaloka had been appointed crown prince, he had made, with his father’s permission, almshouses for the distribution of food and other necessaries. And every day, the moment he got up, he mounted the elephant, Kuvalayāpīḍa, and went round to inspect those almshouses.^[4] To whosoever asked anything he was ready to give it, even if it were his own life: in this way the fame of that crown prince spread in every quarter.

Then he had two twin sons born to him by Mādrī, and the father called them Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. And the boys grew like the love and joy of their parents, and they were dearer than life to their grandparents. And Tārāvaloka and Mādrī were never tired of looking at them, as they bent before them, being filled with virtue, like two bows of the prince, being strung.^[5]

Then the enemies of Tārāvaloka, seeing his elephant, Kuvalayāpīḍa, his two sons, and his reputation for generosity, said to their Brāhmans:

“Go and ask Tārāvaloka to give you his elephant, Kuvalayāpīḍa. If he gives it you, we shall be able to take from him his kingdom, as he will be deprived of that bulwark; if he refuses to give it, his reputation for generosity will be at an end.”

When the Brāhmans had been thus entreated they consented, and asked Tārāvaloka, that hero of generosity, for that elephant.

Tārāvaloka said to himself:

“What do Brāhmans mean by asking for a mighty elephant? So I know for certain that they have been put up to asking me by someone. Happen what will, I must give them my splendid elephant, for how can I let a suppliant go away without obtaining his desire, while I live?”

After going through these reflections, Tārāvaloka gave the elephant to those Brāhmans with unwavering mind.

Then Candrāvaloka’s subjects, seeing that splendid elephant being led away by those Brāhmans, went in a rage to the king, and said:

“Your son has now abandoned this kingdom, and surrendering all his rights has taken upon him the vow of a hermit. For observe, he has given to some suppliants this great elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, the foundation of the kingdom’s prosperity, that scatters with its mere smell all other elephants. So you must either send your son to the forest to practise asceticism, or take back the elephant, or else we will set up another king in your place.”^[6]

When Candrāvaloka had been thus addressed by the citizens he sent his son a message, in accordance with their demands, through the warder.

When his son, Tārāvaloka, heard that, he said:

“As for the elephant, I have given it away, and it is my principle to refuse nothing to suppliants; but what do I care for such a throne as this, which is under the thumb of the subjects, or for a royal dignity which does not benefit others,^[7] and anyhow is transient as the lightning? So it is better for me to live in the forest, among trees, which give the fortune of their fruits to be enjoyed by all, and not here, among such beasts of men as these subjects are.”^[8]

When Tārāvaloka had said this he assumed the dress of bark, and after kissing the feet of his parents, and giving away all his wealth to suppliants, he went out from his own city, accompanied by his wife, who was firm in the same resolution as himself, and his two children, comforting, as well as he could, the weeping Brāhmans. Even beasts and birds, when they saw him setting forth, wept so piteously that the earth was bedewed with the rain of their tears.

Then Tārāvaloka went on his way, with no possessions but a chariot and horses for the conveyance of his children; but some other Brāhmans asked him for the horses belonging to the chariot; he gave them to them immediately, and drew the chariot himself, with the assistance of his wife, to convey those tender young sons to the forest. Then, as he was wearied out in the middle of the forest, another Brāhman came up to him, and asked him for his horseless chariot. He gave it to him without the slightest hesitation, and the resolute fellow, going along on his feet, with his wife and sons, at last with difficulty reached the grove of mortification. There he took up his abode at the foot of a tree, and lived with deer for his only retinue, nobly waited on by his wife, Mādrī. And the forest regions ministered to the heroic prince, while living in this kingdom of devotion; their clusters of flowers waving in the wind were his beautiful chowries, broad-shaded trees were his umbrellas, leaves his bed, rocks his thrones, bees his singing-women, and various fruits his savoury viands.

Now one day his wife, Mādrī, left the hermitage to gather fruits and flowers for him with her own hands, and a certain old Brāhman came and asked Tārāvaloka, who was in his hut, for his sons, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa.

Tārāvaloka said to himself:

“I shall be better able to endure letting these sons of mine, though they are quite infants, be led away,^[9] than I could possibly manage to endure the sending a suppliant away disappointed: the fact is, cunning fate is eager to see my resolution give way”:

then he gave those sons to the Brāhman. And when the Brāhman tried to take them away they refused to go; then he tied their hands and beat them with creepers; and as the cruel man took them away they kept crying for their mother, and turning round and looking at their father with tearful eyes. Even when Tārāvaloka saw that he was unmoved, but the whole world of animate and inanimate existences was moved at his fortitude.

Then the virtuous Mādrī slowly returned, tired, from a remote part of the forest to her husband’s hermitage, bringing with her flowers, fruits and roots. And she saw her husband, who had his face sadly fixed on the ground, but she could not see anywhere those sons of hers, though their toys, in the form of horses, chariots and elephants of clay, were scattered about.

Her heart foreboded calamity, and she said excitedly to her husband:

“Alas! I am ruined! Where are my little sons?”

Her husband slowly answered her:

“Blameless one, I gave those two little sons away to a poor Brāhman, who asked for them.”

When the good lady heard that, she rose superior to her distraction, and said to her husband:

“Then you did well; how could you allow a suppliant to go away disappointed?”

When she said this, the equally matched goodness of that married couple made the earth tremble and the throne of Indra rock.

Then Indra saw by his profound meditation that the world was made to tremble by virtue of the heroic generosity of Mādrī and Tārāvaloka. Then he assumed the form of a Brāhman, and went to Tārāvaloka’s hermitage, to prove him, and asked him for his only wife, Mādrī.

And Tārāvaloka was preparing to give without hesitation, by the ceremony of pouring water over the hands,^[10] that lady who had been his companion in the wild forest, when Indra, thus disguised as a Brāhman, said to him:

“Royal sage, what object do you mean to attain by giving away a wife like this?”

Then Tārāvaloka said:

“I have no object in view, Brāhman; so much only do I desire: that I may ever give away to Brāhmans even my life.”

When Indra heard this he resumed his proper shape, and said to him:

“I have made proof of thee, and I am satisfied with thee; so I say to thee, thou must not again give away thy wife; and soon thou shalt be made emperor over all the Vidyādharas.”

When the god had said this he disappeared.

In the meanwhile that old Brāhman took with him those sons of Tārāvaloka, whom he had received as a Brāhman’s fee, and, losing his way, arrived, as fate would have it, at the city of that King Candrāvaloka, and proceeded to sell those princes in the market. Then the citizens recognised those two boys, and went and informed King Candrāvaloka, and took them, with the Brāhman, into his presence. The king, when he saw his grandsons, shed tears, and after he had questioned the Brāhman, and had heard the state of the case from him, he was for a long time divided between joy and grief. Then, perceiving the exceeding virtue of his son, he at once ceased to care about a kingdom, though his subjects entreated him to remain, but with his wealth he bought those two grandsons from the Brāhman, and taking them with him went with his retinue to the hermitage of his son, Tārāvaloka.

There he saw him, with matted hair, wearing a dress of bark, looking like a great tree, the advantages of which are enjoyed by birds coming from every quarter, for he in like manner had bestowed all he had upon expectant Brāhmans.^[11] That son ran towards him, while still a long way off, and fell at his feet, and his father bedewed him with tears, and took him up on his lap; and thus gave him a foretaste of his ascent of the throne, as emperor over the Vidyādharas, after a solemn sprinkling with water.

Then the king gave back to Tārāvaloka his sons, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, saying that he had purchased them; and, while they were relating to one another their adventures, an elephant with four tusks and the goddess Lakṣmī descended from heaven.

And when the chiefs of the Vidyādharas had also descended, Lakṣmī, lotus in hand, said to that Tārāvaloka:

“Mount this elephant, and come to the country of the Vidyādharas, and there enjoy the imperial dignity^[12] earned by your great generosity.”

When Lakṣmī said this, Tārāvaloka, after bowing at the feet of his father, mounted that celestial elephant, with her, and his wife, and his sons, in the sight of all the inhabitants of the hermitage, and surrounded by the kings of the Vidyādharas went through the air to their domain. There the distinctive sciences of the Vidyādharas repaired to him, and he long enjoyed supreme sway, but at last, becoming disgusted with all worldly pleasures, he retired to a forest of ascetics.

 

[M] (main story line continued)

“Thus Tārāvaloka, though a man, acquired in old time by his deeds of spotless virtue the sovereignty of all the Vidyādharas. But others, after acquiring it, lost it by their offences: so be on your guard against unrighteous conduct either on your own part or on that of another.”^[13]

When the hermit Kaśyapa had told this story, and had thus admonished Naravāhanadatta, that emperor promised to follow his advice.

And he had a royal proclamation made all round the mountain of Śiva, to the following effect:

“Listen, Vidyādharas; whoever of my subjects after this commits an unrighteous act will certainly be put to death by me.”

The Vidyādharas received his commands with implicit submission, and his glory was widely diffused on account of his causing Suratamañjarī to be set at liberty; and so he lived with his retinue in the hermitage of that excellent sage, on the Black Mountain,^[14] in the society of his maternal uncle, and in this manner spent the rainy season.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

See Vol. II, p. 138 et seq., and Vol. VII, pp. 49-63.—n.m.p.

[2]:

The Petersburg lexicographers spell the word “Śibi.” The story is really the same as the sixteenth of Ralston’s Tibetan Tales, p. 257. It is also found in the Chariyā Piṭaka. See Oldenberg’s Buddha, p. 302. Dr Kern points out that we ought to read dugdhābdinirmalā. The India Office MSS. give the words correctly.

[3]:

The word saumya means “pleasing” and also “moonlike”; kalā, in the next line, means “digit of the moon” and also “accomplishment.”

[4]:

I read satrāṇi or sattrāṇi for pātrāṇi, which would mean “fit recipients.” I find sattrāṇi in MS. No. 1882.

[5]:

A perpetually recurring pun! Guṇa in Sanskrit means “bowstring” and also “virtue,” and is an unfailing source of temptation to our author.

[6]:

This story was evidently composed at a time when the recollections of the old clan system were vivid in the minds of the Hindus. See Rhys Davids’ Buddhism, p. 28. Gautama’s relations “complained in a body to the Rāja Suddhodana that his son, devoted to home pleasures, neglected those manly exercises necessary for one who might hereafter have to lead his kinsmen in case of war.”

[7]:

I read anyānupayoginyā, which I find in MS. No. 3003. No. 1882 has anyānupabhoginyā. In the other MS. the passage is omitted. Another syllable is clearly required. The Sanskrit College MS. reads kim chānyānunayoginyatra.

[8]:

Cf. Richard II, v, 1, 35.

[9]:

India Office MS. No. 1882 reads nītau; the other two seem to omit the lines altogether.

[10]:

As Anāthapiṇḍika gives the Jetavana garden to Buddha in the Bharhut Sculptures; see also Vol. VII, p. 79.

[11]:

The pun is intelligible enough: dvija means “Brāhman” and also “bird”; āśāgata means “coming from every quarter” and “coming in hope to get something.”

[12]:

Tat should not be separated from the next word.

[13]:

The three India Office MSS. read apachāraṃ tvaṃ. The Sanskrit College MS. gives apavāraṃ.

[14]:

The metre shows that ’sta is a misprint for ’sita. All the three India Office MSS. read ’sita. So does the Sanskrit College MS.