Vetāla 17: The Beautiful Unmādinī

Click the link to jump directly to the english translation of the seventeenth Vetāla. This page only contains the notes.

The Hindi version^[1] (No. 16) differs but little from our text. During the argument between the king and his commander-in-chief, the latter threatens to turn Unmādinī into a prostitute, so that she can no longer be regarded as his wife. Then he will lead her to the palace. The king promises punishment if such a step is taken. Finally, both the husband and his wife throw themselves on a funeral pyre.

The question that follows is naturally:

“Of these three, whose was the greatest virtue?”

The answer is as in Somadeva.

The Tamil version^[2] (No. 20) is much abbreviated. The king sends for a “soothsayer,” who examines the girl’s horoscope, apparently without any deception, and reports that if he married her he would lose his kingdom. The tale then ends in a few lines. The king’s action is considered the noblest, as in the other versions.

It occurs as No. 26 in the Persian Ṭūṭī-nāmah.^[3] Here the discussion about the moral aspect of the situation is carried on in the presence of the counsellors only, and the king is the only one who dies. In the Turkish Ṭūṭī-nāmah^[4] it is not the father, but a procuress, who first offers the girl to the king. The girl also dies on hearing of the king’s death.

As compared with the early versions of our story in Buddhist literature, that of Somadeva is decidedly condensed.

In the Pāli Jātaka^[5] the lady’s name is Ummadantī, the beautiful daughter of a rich merchant named Tirīṭavaccha. On his offering her to the king, he sends Brāhmans to see if she has auspicious marks. The effect of her presence on the Brāhmans is amazing. On catching sight of her, they completely lost their self-control, just as if they were intoxicated with passion, and forgot that they had left their meal unfinished. Some of them took a morsel, and thinking they would eat it put it on their heads. Some let it fall on their hips. Others threw it against the wall. Everyone was beside himself.

When she saw them thus she said,

“They tell me these fellows are to test the character of my marks,”

and she ordered them to be taken by the scruff of their necks and thrust out.

And they were sorely annoyed, and returned to the palace in a great rage with Ummadantī, and they said:

“Sire, this woman is no mate for you; she is a witch.”

The king thought, “They tell me she is a witch,” and he did not send for her. She is accordingly married to Ahipāraka, a high court official.

At this point the story is interrupted by our being told how the girl had become so beautiful, and her actions in a previous birth are recounted.

The tale continues. Ahipāraka warns his wife not to show herself during the coming Kattika festival, when the king is sure to be near the house. But this is the very chance the slighted Ummadantī has been waiting for, and she makes her plans accordingly.

At night the town is en fete, and the king rides in a magnificent car through the streets. As he approaches the house, Ummadantī throws flowers at the king, and on catching sight of her he is unable to continue the procession.

He discovers her name, returns to his palace, and lies like “a mad, haunted man” on his couch, saying:

“A lily maid, with eyes soft as a doe’s,
In the full moon’s clear light before me rose,
Beholding her in robe of dovelike hue,
Methought two moons at once came into view.

Darting one glance from her bright, lovely eyes,
The temptress took me captive by surprise,
Like woodland elf upon some mountain height,
Her graceful motion won my heart at sight.

So dark and tall and fair the maid, with jewels in her ears,
Clad in a single garment, like a timid doe, appears.

With long-tressed hair and nails all stainèd red,
O’er her soft arms rich sandal essence shed,
With tapering fingers and a gracious air,
When will she smile on me, my charmer fair?

When will Tirīṭi’s slender-waisted maid,
A gold adornment on her breast displayed,
With her soft arms embracing cling to me,
E’en as a creeper to some forest tree?

When will she stained with dye of lac so bright,
With swelling bosom, maiden lily-white,
Exchange a kiss with me, as oft a glass
Will from one toper to another pass?

Soon as I saw her standing thus, so fair to outward view,
No longer master of myself, reason away I threw.

When Ummadantī I beheld, with jewelled ear-rings bright,
Like one amerced right heavily, I slept not day nor night.

Should Sakka grant a boon to me, my choice were quickly ta’en,
I would be Ahipāraka one night or haply twain,
And Ummadantī thus enjoyed, he might o’er Sivi reign.”

Ahipāraka is aghast at the condition of the king and does all in his power to make him accept her. A long series of stanzas follows, repeated alternately between the king and Ahipāraka, until finally the right mode of action is borne upon the king, and he overcomes his infatuation.

The story also occurs at length in the Jātaka-mālā,^[6] and follows the Pāli version fairly closely.

The occasion of the girl’s revenge is during the Kaumudī festival, which apparently begins in the daytime, for we have a fine description of the town:

“Its streets and squares had been sprinkled and cleansed; their white ground was strewed with many-coloured flowers: gay flags and banners were floating aloft; everywhere there was dancing and singing, representations of burlesques, ballets and music; the mingled scents of flowers, incense, odoriferous powders, perfumes, garlands, strong liquors, also of the perfumed water and the ointments used in ablutions, filled the air with fragrance; lovely articles were being exposed for sale; the principal streets were thronged by a merry crowd of townsmen and landsmen in their best dress.”

The ending is slightly different. The minister is appeased by the unwavering constancy of the king, and pours praises on such a virtuous ruler.

In fact, in all Buddhist versions the endings are merely moralistic, and only in the Hindu versions do we get the dramatic sequel. Cf. also the version in the Burmese collection, Buddhaghoṣa’s Parables (Story of the Rahandama Uppalavaṇṇā).

Reference should also be made to an interesting passage in Kalhaṇa’s Rājataraṅgiṇī^[7] (Book IV, verses 17-37).

Here we read of Durlabhaka-Pratāpāditya II who fell violently in love with a rich merchant’s wife:

“Though he had not touched her, he felt as if she, who was like the nectar of bliss, were fixed [in him] even to the very marrow.”

For long he fights against his all-consuming passion, but his illness grows on him until he is near to death. The merchant begs the king to accept his wife, and adds that if he still refuses he will put her in a temple as a dancing-girl, whence she can easily be removed. At last the king gives in and marries the object of his passion, who in time bears him three children.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Barker, op. cit., p. 271 et seq.

[2]:

Babington, op. cit., p. 81 et seq.

[3]:

Iken, op. cit., p. 109.

[4]:

Rosen, op. cit., vol. ii, p. 191, and Wiekerhauser, op. cit., p. 253. See also Oesterley, op. cit., pp. 207, 208.

[5]:

Cambridge edition, No. 527, vol. v, 1905, p. 108.

[6]:

J. S. Speyer, Gātakamālā, Sacred Books of the Buddhists, vol. i, 1895, No. 13, p. 114 et seq.

[7]:

Stein, vol. i, p. 122.