Note on fate or destiny

Note: this text is extracted from Book IX, chapter 53:

The story of King Lakṣadatta and his dependent Labdhadatta (pp. 168-172) is told to show the unswerving power of Fate, which in Sanskrit is implied by such terms as kāla, daiva, karma, vidhi, etc.

In our text we read that the king, on perceiving his dependent’s continued ill luck, remarked: “... his merit in a former life must have been slight, since he does not know that my favour is never barren of results.” This is the doctrine of karma —viz. all sins in a former life must be expiated in the present one. The conception is closely connected with the Indian theory of transmigration or metempsychosis, which pervades all post-Vedic religions and philosophical systems of India, and still exercises a powerful sway over the popular mind of the Hindu. (See J. Jolly, “Fate (Hindu),” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth., vol. v, p. 790; and L. de la Vallée Poussin, “Karma,” ditto, vol. vii, pp. 673-676.)

In the course of this work we have continually come across people undergoing hardships, suffering poverty, or enduring great privation owing to sins in a former life. There is no commoner motif in Hindu fiction. In the story under consideration the king realises that Labdhadatta is merely working out his karma, and persists in his attempts to help him, knowing that sooner or later his guilt will be expiated and Fortune will smile on him once again.

A rather similar story is found in Western India and was told by Mrs Kabraji Putlibai D. H. Wadia in the Indian Antiquary, vol. xv, 1886, p. 221.

The good fortune of a merchant has suddenly turned and he is smitten with dire poverty. Exhorted by his wife, the merchant takes his place with other beggars seeking audience of the king. In spite of his reduced circumstances, the king recognises him, and asks him to wait till the others have left. He then fills a water-melon with gold coins and gives it to the merchant. Crestfallen, he thanks the king, and gives it to two tired travellers he meets on the way home.

After months of poverty the merchant goes again to the court, with exactly the same result. Once more he goes to court, and this time the king tells him what were the contents of the water-melon and fills in his presence a third melon with rare jewels, telling him to be very careful with it. His evil star still pursues him, for on crossing the river in front of his house his foot slips and the jewels are lost in the water. He is now fully persuaded that it is the will of Tśvara that he remain poor, until such a day as the change of his luck be made manifest.

This story is quoted by Clouston, A Group of Eastern Romances, p. 489 et seq., as a parallel to the Persian story of the “Unlucky Shoayb” (p. 118 et seq. of the same volume —not p. 110, as stated on p. 489).

Shoayb was also a rich man who suddenly was plunged into extreme poverty and who brought bad luck on everyone with whom he associated. The Vizier realised this and warned the king of the great danger of having anything to do with him. The king, however, said it was all nonsense, and in vain tried to enrich him and render him every assistance in his power. Matters got worse and worse, and it was found that within the space of twelve days Shoayb had been the ultimate cause of the death of 1500 men, besides which a large number were injured and had lost their property. The king at last realised that the Vizier had been correct in his advice.

The idea of proving to a man that his evil star is in the ascendant is a very common one in fiction, and numerous examples could be given in both Eastern and European collections.

Perhaps the best known is that which forms the first novel of the tenth day of the Decameron. Here a certain wealthy Tuscan named Ruggieri de’ Figiovanni attaches himself to the Court of Alfonso, King of Spain. Although he serves his new master in every possible manner he receives no remuneration whatsoever. In disgust he leaves the court, and gives vent to his feelings as he starts on his journey to Italy. A secret agent of Alfonso reports his remarks and leads Ruggieri before the king once again. The king thereupon points out that it is his own evil fortune which would not suffer the receipt of gifts, and in order to prove it he produces two caskets, one filled with jewels and the other with earth, saying that he is bound to chose the worthless one, which he accordingly does. The chief interest of this incident is, of course, connected with the use Shakespeare made of it in The Merchant of Venice. For numerous analogues and variants of the story both in Europe and the East see Lee, The Decameron, its Sources and Analogues, p. 294 et seq. — n.m.p.