The Katha Sarit Sagara or Ocean of the Streams of Story Part 39

Story of the two thieves, Ghata and Karpara. [127]

There were in a certain city two thieves, named Ghata and Karpara. One night Karpara left Ghata outside the palace, and breaking through the wall, entered the bedchamber of the princess. And the princess, who could not sleep, saw him there in a corner, and suddenly falling in love with him, called him to her. And she gave him wealth, and said to him; "I will give you much more if you come again." Then Karpara went out, and told Ghata what had happened, and gave him the wealth, and having thus got hold of the king's property, sent him home. But he himself again entered the women's apartments of the palace; who, that is attracted by love and covetousness, thinks of death? There he remained with the princess, and bewildered with love and wine, he fell asleep, and did not observe that the night was at an end. And in the morning the guards of the women's apartments entered, and made him prisoner, and informed the king, and he in his anger ordered him to be put to death. "While he was being led to the place of execution, his friend Ghata came to look for him, as he had not returned in the course of the night. Then Karpara saw Ghata, and made a sign to him that he was to carry off and take care of the princess. And he answered by a sign that he would do so. Then Karpara was led away by the executioners, and being at their mercy, was quickly hanged up upon a tree, and so executed.

Then Ghata went home, sorrowing for his friend, and as soon as night arrived, he dug a mine and entered the apartment of the princess. Seeing her in fetters there alone, he went up to her and said; "I am the friend of Karpara, who was to-day put to death on account of you. And out of love for him I am come here to carry you off, so come along, before your father does you an injury." Thereupon she consented joyfully, and he removed her bonds. Then he went out with her, who at once committed herself to his care, by the underground pa.s.sage he had made, and returned to his own house.

And next morning the king heard that his own daughter had been carried off by some one, who had dug a secret mine, and that king thought to himself, "Undoubtedly that wicked man whom I punished has some audacious friend, who has carried off my daughter in this way." So he set his servants to watch the body of Karpara, and he said to them, "You must arrest any one who may come here lamenting, to burn the corpse and perform the other rites, and so I shall recover that wicked girl who has disgraced her family." When those guards had received this order from the king, they said, "We will do so," and remained continually watching the corpse of Karpara.

Then Ghata made enquiries, and found out what was going on, and said to the princess; "My dear, my comrade Karpara was a very dear friend to me, and by means of him I gained you and all these valuable jewels; so until I have paid to him the debt of friends.h.i.+p, I cannot rest in peace. So I will go and see his corpse, and by a device of mine manage to lament over it, and I will in due course burn the body, and scatter the bones in a holy place. And do not be afraid, I am not reckless like Karpara." After he had said this to her, he immediately a.s.sumed the appearance of a Pasupata ascetic, and taking boiled rice and milk in a pot, he went near the corpse of Karpara, as if he were a person pa.s.sing that way casually, and when he got near it, he slipped, and let fall from his hand and broke that pot of milk and rice, and began lamenting, "O Karpara full of sweetness," [128] and so on. And the guards thought that he was grieving for his pot full of food, that he had got by begging. And immediately he went home and told that to the princess. And the next day he made a servant, dressed as a bride, go in front of him, and he had another behind him, carrying a vessel full of sweetmeats, in which the juice of the Dhattura had been infused. And he himself a.s.sumed the appearance of a drunken villager, and so in the evening he came reeling along past those guards, who were watching the body of Karpara. They said to him, "Who are you, friend, and who is this lady, and where are you going?" Then the cunning fellow answered them with stuttering accents, "I am a villager; this is my wife; I am going to the house of my father-in-law; and I am taking for him this complimentary present of sweetmeats. But you have now become my friends by speaking to me, so I will take only half of the sweetmeats there; take the other half for yourselves." Saying this, he gave a sweetmeat to each of the guards. And they received them, laughing, and all of them partook of them. Accordingly Ghata, having stupefied the guards with Dhattura, at night brought fuel [129]

and burnt the body of Karpara.

The next morning, after he had departed, the king hearing of it, removed those guards who had been stupefied, and placed others there, and said; "You must guard these bones, and you must arrest whoever attempts to take them away, and you must not accept food from any outsider." When the guards were thus instructed by the king, they remained on the lookout day and night, and Ghata heard of it. Then he, being acquainted with the operation of a bewildering charm granted him by Durga, made a wandering mendicant his friend, in order to make them repose confidence in him. And he went there with that wandering mendicant, who was muttering spells, and bewildered those guards, and recovered the bones of Karpara. And after throwing them into the Ganges, he came and related what he had done, and lived happily with the princess, accompanied by the mendicant. But the king, hearing that the bones had been carried off, and the men guarding them stupefied, thought that the whole exploit, beginning with the carrying off of his daughter, was the doing of a magician. And he had the following proclamation made in his city; "If that magician, who carried off my daughter, and performed the other exploits connected with that feat, will reveal himself, I will give him half my kingdom." When Ghata heard this, he wished to reveal himself, but the princess dissuaded him, saying, "Do not do so, you cannot repose any confidence in this king, who treacherously puts people to death." [130] Then, for fear that, if he remained there, the truth might come out, he set out for another country with the princess and the mendicant.

And on the way the princess said secretly to the mendicant, "The other one of these thieves seduced me, and this one made me fall from my high rank. The other thief is dead, as for this, Ghata, I do not love him, you are my darling." When she had said this, she united herself to the mendicant, and killed Ghata in the dead of night. Then, as she was journeying along with that mendicant, the wicked woman fell in with a merchant on the way, whose name was Dhanadeva. So she said, "Who is this skull-bearer? You are my darling," and she left that mendicant, while he was asleep, and went off with that merchant. And in the morning the mendicant woke up, and reflected, "There is no love in women, and no courtesy free from fickleness, for, after lulling me into security, the wicked woman has gone off, and robbed me too. However, I ought perhaps to consider myself lucky, that I have not been killed like Ghata." After these reflections, the mendicant returned to his own country.

Story of Dhanadeva's wife.

And the princess, travelling on with the merchant, reached his country. And when Dhanadeva arrived there, he said to himself; "Why should I rashly introduce this unchaste woman into my house? So, as it was evening, he went into the house of an old woman in that place, with the princess. And at night he asked that old woman, who did not recognize him, "Mother, do you know any tidings about the family of Dhanadeva?" When the old woman heard that, she said, "What tidings is there except that his wife is always ready to take a new lover. For a basket, covered with leather, is let down every night from the window here, and whoever enters it, is drawn up into the house, and is dismissed in the same way at the end of the night. And the woman is always stupefied with drink, so that she is absolutely void of discernment. And this state of hers has become well-known in the whole city. And though her husband has been long away, he has not yet returned."

When Dhanadeva heard this speech of the old woman's, he went out that moment on some pretext, and repaired to his own house, being full of inward grief and uncertainty. And seeing a basket let down by the female servants with ropes, he entered it, and they pulled up him into the house. And his wife, who was stupefied with drink, embraced him most affectionately, without knowing who he was. But he was quite cast down at seeing her degradation. And thereupon she fell into a drunken sleep. And at the end of the night, the female servants let him down again quickly from the window, in the basket suspended with ropes. And the merchant reflected in his grief, "Enough of the folly of being a family man, for women in a house are a snare! It is always this story with them, so a life in the forest is much to be preferred." Having formed this resolve, Dhanadeva abandoned the princess into the bargain, and set out for a distant forest. And on the way he met, and struck up a friends.h.i.+p with, a young Brahman, named Rudrasoma, who had lately returned from a long absence abroad. When he told him his story, the Brahman became anxious about his own wife; and so he arrived in the company of that merchant at his own village in the evening.

Story of the wife of the Brahman Rudrasoma.

And when he arrived there, he saw a cowherd, on the bank of the river, near his house, singing with joy, like one beside himself. So he said to him in joke, "Cowherd, is any young woman in love with you, that you sing thus in your rapture, counting the world as stubble?" "When the cowherd heard that, he laughed and said, "I have a great secret. [131]

The head of this village, a Brahman, named Rudrasoma, has been long away, and I visit his wife every night; her maid introduces me into the house dressed as a woman." When Rudrasoma heard this, he restrained his anger, and wis.h.i.+ng to find out the truth, he said to the cowherd; "If such kindness is shewn to guests here, give me this dress of yours, and let me go there to-night: I feel great curiosity about it." The cowherd said, "Do so, take this black rug of mine, and this stick, and remain here until her maid comes. And she will take you for me, and will give you a female dress, and invite you to come, so go there boldly at night, and I will take repose this night." When the cowherd said this, the Brahman Rudrasoma took from him the stick and the rug, and stood there, personating him. And the cowherd stood at a little distance, with that merchant Dhanadeva, and then the maid came. She walked silently up to him in the darkness, and wrapped him up in a woman's dress, and said to him, "Come along," and so took him off to his wife, thinking that he was the cowherd. When his wife saw Rudrasoma, she sprang up and embraced him, supposing that he was the cowherd, and then Rudrasoma thought to himself; "Alas! wicked women fall in love with a base man, if only he is near them, for this vicious wife of mine has fallen in love with a cowherd, merely because be is near at hand." Then he made some excuse with faltering voice, and went, disgusted in mind, to Dhanadeva. And after he had told his adventure in his own house, he said to that merchant; "I too will go with you to the forest; perish my family!" So Rudrasoma and the merchant Dhanadeva set out together for the forest.

Story of the wife of Sasin.

And on the way a friend of Dhanadeva's, named Sasin, joined them. And in the course of conversation they told him their circ.u.mstances. And when Sasin heard that, being a jealous man, and having just returned from a long absence in a foreign land, he became anxious about his wife, though he had locked her up in a cellar. And Sasin, travelling along with them, came near his own house in the evening, and was desirous of entertaining them. But he saw there a man singing in an amorous mood, who had an evil smell, and whose hands and feet were eaten away with leprosy. And in his astonishment, he asked him; "Who are you, sir, that you are so cheerful?" And the leper said to him, "I am the G.o.d of love." Sasin answered, "There can be no mistake about that. The splendour of your beauty is sufficient evidence for your being the G.o.d of love." Thereupon the leper continued, "Listen, I will tell you something. A rogue here, named Sasin, being jealous of his wife, locked her up in a cellar with one servant to attend on her, and went to a foreign land. But that wife of his happened to see me here, and immediately surrendered herself to me, her heart being drawn towards me by love. And I spend every night with her, for the maid takes me on her back and carries me in. So tell me if I am not the G.o.d of love. Who, that was the favoured lover of the beautiful wife of Sasin, could care for other women?" When Sasin heard this speech of the leper's, he suppressed his grief, intolerable as a hurricane, and wis.h.i.+ng to discover the truth, he said to the leper, "In truth you are the G.o.d of love, so I have a boon to crave of your G.o.ds.h.i.+p. I feel great curiosity about this lady from your description of her, so I will go there this very night disguised as yourself. Be propitious to your suppliant: you will lose but little, as you can attain this object every day." When Sasin made this request, the leper said to him; "So be it! take this dress of mine and give me yours, and remain covering up your hands and feet with your clothes, as you see me do, until her maid comes, which will be as soon as it becomes dark. And she will mistake you for me, and put you on her back, and you must submit to go there in that fas.h.i.+on, for I always have to go in that way, having lost the use of my hands and feet from leprosy." Thereupon Sasin put on the leper's dress and remained there, but the leper and Sasin's two companions remained a little way off.

Then Sasin's wife's maid came, and supposing that he was the leper, as he had his dress on, said, "Come along," and took him up on her back. And so she took him at night into that cellar to his wife, who was expecting her paramour the leper. Then Sasin made out for certain that it was his wife, who was lamenting there in the darkness, by feeling her limbs, and he became an ascetic on the spot. And when she was asleep, he went out un.o.bserved, and made his way to Dhanadeva and Rudrasoma. And he told them his experiences, and said in his grief, "Alas! women are like torrents that flow in a ravine, they are ever tending downwards, capricious, beautiful at a distance, p.r.o.ne to turbidness, and so they are as difficult to guard as such rivers are to drink, and thus my wife, though kept in a cellar, has run after a leper. So for me also the forest is the best thing. Out on family life!" And so he spent the night in the company of the merchant and the Brahman, whose affliction was the same as his. And next morning they all set out together for the forest, and at evening they reached a tree by the roadside, with a tank at its foot. And after they had eaten and drunk, they ascended the tree to sleep, and while they were there, they saw a traveller come and lie down underneath the tree.

Story of the snake-G.o.d and his wife.

And soon they saw another man arise from the tank, and he brought out of his mouth a couch and a lady. Then he lay down on the couch beside that wife of his, and went to sleep, and the moment she saw it, she went and embraced the traveller. And he asked her who they were, and she answered; "This is a snake-G.o.d, and I am his wife, a daughter of the snake race. Do not fear, I have had ninety-nine lovers among travellers, and you make the hundredth." But, while she was saying this, it happened that the snake-G.o.d woke up, and saw them. And he discharged fire from his mouth, and reduced them both to ashes.

When the snake-G.o.d had gone, the three friends said to one another, "If it is impossible to guard one's wife by enclosing her in one's own body, what chance is there of keeping her safe in a house? Out on them all!" So they spent the night in contentment, and next morning went on to the forest. There they became completely chastened in mind, with hearts quieted by practising the four meditations, [132]

which were not interfered with by their friends.h.i.+p, and they became gentle to all creatures, and attained perfection in contemplation, which produces unequalled absolute beatification; and all three in due course destroyed the inborn darkness of their souls, and became liberated from the necessity of future births. But their wicked wives fell into a miserable state by the ripening of their own sin, and were soon ruined, losing both this and the next world.

"So attachment to women, the result of infatuation, produces misery to all men. But indifference to them produces in the discerning emanc.i.p.ation from the bonds of existence."

When the prince, who was longing for union with Saktiyasas, had patiently listened to this diverting tale, told by his minister Gomukha, he again went to sleep.

NOTE ON THE STORY OF GHATA AND KARPARA.

The portion of the story of "the s.h.i.+fty lad," which so nearly resembles the story of Ghata and Karpara, runs as follows: The s.h.i.+fty lad remarks to his master the wright, that he might get plenty from the king's store-house which was near at hand, if only he would break into it. The two eventually rob it together. "But the king's people missed the b.u.t.ter and cheese and the other things that had been taken out of the store-house, and they told the king how it had happened. The king took the advice of the Seanagal about the best way of catching the thieves, and the counsel that he gave them was, that they should set a hogshead of soft pitch under the hole where they were coming in. That was done, and the next day the s.h.i.+fty lad and his master went to break into the king's store-house."

The consequence was that the wright was caught in the pitch. Thereupon the s.h.i.+fty lad cut off his head, which he carried home and buried in the garden. When the king's people came into the store-house, they found a body, without a head and they could not make out whose it was. By the advice of the Seanagal the king had the trunk carried about from town to town by the soldiers on the points of spears. They were directed to observe if any one cried out on seeing it. When they were going past the house of the wright, the wright's wife made a tortured scream, and swift the s.h.i.+fty lad cut himself with an adze, and he kept saying to the wright's wife, "It is not as bad as thou thinkest." He then tells the soldier that she is afraid of blood, and therefore the soldier supposed that he was the wright and she his wife. The king had the body hung up in an open place, and set soldiers to watch if any should attempt to take it away, or show pity or grief for it. The s.h.i.+fty lad drives a horse past with a keg of whisky on each side, and pretends to be hiding it from the soldiers. They pursue him, capture the whisky, get dead drunk, and the s.h.i.+fty lad carries off and buries the wright's body. The king now lets loose a pig to dig up the body. The soldiers follow the pig, but the wright's widow entertains them. Meanwhile the s.h.i.+fty lad kills the pig and buries it. The soldiers are then ordered to live at free quarters among the people, and wherever they get pig's flesh, unless the people could explain how they came by it, to make a report to the king. But the s.h.i.+fty lad kills the soldiers who visit the widow, and persuades the people to kill all the others in their sleep. The Seanagal next advises the king to give a feast to all the people. Whoever dared to dance with the king's daughter would be the culprit. The s.h.i.+fty lad asks her to dance, she makes a black mark on him, but he puts a similar black mark on twenty others. The king now proclaims that, if the author of these clever tricks will reveal himself, he shall marry his daughter. All the men with marks on them contend for the honour. It is agreed that to whomsoever a child shall give an apple, the king is to give his daughter. The s.h.i.+fty lad goes into the room where they are all a.s.sembled, with a shaving and a drone, and the child gives him the apple. He marries the princess, but is killed by accident. Kohler (Orient und Occident, Vol. II, p. 303 and ff.) compares the story of Dolopathos quoted in Loiseleur II, 123, ed. Brunet, p. 183, a story of the Florentine Ser Giovanni, (Pecorone, IX, 1,) an old Netherland story in Haupt's Zeitschrift fur Deutsches Alterthum 5, 385-404, called "The thief of Bruges," and a Tyrolese story in Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmarchen aus Sud-Deutschland, p. 300; also a French Romance of chivalry ent.i.tled, "The knight Berinus and his son Aigres of the Magnet mountain." There is also a story in the Seven Wise Masters (Ellis, specimens of early English metrical romances new ed. by Halliwell, London, 1848, p. 423) of a father and his son breaking into the treasure-house of the emperor Octavia.n.u.s. Kohler also compares the story of Trophonius and his brother or father Agamedes (Scholiast to Aristophanes, Nubes, 508; Pausanias, IX, 37, 3.) This story will also be found in Simrock's Deutsche Volksbucher, Vol. XII, p. 148. The story appears in Melusine, 1878 p. 17 under the t.i.tle of "Le Voleur Avise, Conte Breton." See also Ralston's Tibetan Tales, Introduction, pp. xlvii and ff.

CHAPTER LXV.

The next evening Gomukha told Naravahanadatta this story to amuse him as before.

Story of the ungrateful Wife. [133]

In a certain city there lived the son of a rich merchant, who was an incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva. His mother died, and his father became attached to another wife, so he sent him away; and the son went forth from his father's house with his wife to live in the forest. His younger brother also was banished by his father, and went with him, but as he was not of a chastened disposition, the elder brother parted company with him, and went in another direction. And as he was going along, he at last came to a great desert wilderness, without water, gra.s.s, or tree, scorched by the fierce rays of the sun, and his supplies were exhausted. And he travelled through it for seven days, and kept his wife, who was exhausted with hunger and thirst, alive, by giving her his own flesh and blood, and she drank the blood and ate the flesh. And on the eighth day he reached a mountain forest, resounding with the surging waters of a torrent, abounding in shady trees laden with fruit, and in delightful turf. There he refreshed his wife with water and fruits, and went down into the mountain-stream that was wreathed with waves, to take a bath. And there he saw a man with his two feet and his two hands cut off, being carried along by the current, in need of a.s.sistance. Though exhausted with his long fast, the brave man entered the river, and rescued this mutilated person. And the compa.s.sionate man landed him on the bank, and said; "Who did this to you, my brother?" Then the maimed man answered, "My enemies cut off my hands and feet, and threw me into the river, desiring to inflict on me a painful death. But you have saved me from the water." When the maimed man told him this, he bandaged his wounds, and gave him food, and then the n.o.ble fellow bathed and took food himself. Then this merchant's son, who was an incarnation of a Bodhisattva, remained in that wood with his wife, living on roots and fruits, and engaged in austerities.

One day, when he was away in search of fruits and roots, his wife fell in love with that maimed man, whose wounds were healed. And determining to kill her husband, the wicked woman devised a plot for doing so in concert with that mutilated man, and she pretended to be ill. And she pointed out a plant growing in the ravine, where it was difficult to descend, and the river hard to cross, and said to her husband; "I may live if you bring me that sovereign plant, for I am sure that the G.o.d indicated to me its position in a dream." He consented, and descended into the ravine to get the plant, by the help of a rope plaited of gra.s.s and fastened to a tree. But when he had got down, she unfastened the rope; so he fell into the river, and was swept away by it, as its current was strong. And he was carried an enormous distance by the river, and flung up on the bank near a certain city, for his merits preserved his life. Then he climbed up on to the firm ground, and rested under a tree, as he was fatigued by his immersion in the water, and thought over the wicked behaviour of his wife. Now it happened that at that time the king of that city had just died, and in that country there was an immemorial custom, that an auspicious elephant was driven about by the citizens, and any man, that he took up with his trunk and placed on his back, was anointed king. [134]

The elephant, wandering about, came near the merchant's son, and, as if he were Providence pleased with his self-control, took him up, and put him on his back. Then the merchant's son, who was an incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva, was immediately taken to the city and anointed king by the people. When he had obtained the crown, he did not a.s.sociate with charming women of coquettish behaviour, but held converse with the virtues of compa.s.sion, cheerfulness and patience.

And his wife wandered about hither and thither, carrying that maimed man, who was her paramour, on her back, [135] without fear of her husband, whom she supposed to have been swept away by the river. And she begged from village to village, and city to city, saying, "This husband of mine has had his hands and feet cut off by his enemies; I am a devoted wife and support him by begging, so give me alms. At last she reached the town in which that husband of hers was king. She begged there in the same way, and, as she was honoured by the citizens as a devoted wife the fame of her virtue reached the ears of the king. And the king had her summoned, with the maimed man on her back, and, when she came near, he recognized her and said; "Are you that devoted wife?" And the wicked woman, not recognizing her husband, when surrounded by the splendour of the kingly office, said, "I am that devoted wife, your Majesty." Then that incarnation of a Bodhisattva laughed, and said; "I too have had practical experience of your wifely devotion. How comes it that, though I your own husband, who possess hands and feet, could not tame you, even by giving you my own flesh and blood, which you kept feeding on like an ogress in human form, this maimed fellow, though defective in his limbs, has been able to tame you and make you his beast of burden? Did you carry on your back your innocent husband, whom you threw into the river? It is owing to that deed that you have to carry and support this maimed man." When her husband in these words revealed her past conduct, she recognized him, and fainting from fear, became like a painted or dead woman. The ministers in their curiosity said, "Tell us, king, what this means." Then the king told them the whole story. And the ministers, when they heard that she had conspired against her husband's life, cut off her nose and ears, and branded her, and banished her from the country with the maimed man. And in this matter Fate shewed a becoming combination, for it united a woman without nose and ears with a man without hands and feet, and a man who was an incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva, with the splendour of royalty.

"Thus the way of woman's heart, which is a thing full of hate, indiscriminating, p.r.o.ne to the base, is difficult to fathom. And thus good fortune comes spontaneous and unexpected, as if pleased with them, to those of n.o.ble soul, who do not swerve from virtue and who conquer anger." When the minister Gomukha had told this tale, he proceeded to relate the following story.

Story of the grateful animals and the ungrateful woman. [136]

There was a certain man of n.o.ble soul, who was an incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva, whose heart was melted by compa.s.sion only, who had built a hut in a forest and lived there, performing austerities. He, while living there, by his power rescued living beings in distress and Pisaehas, and others he gratified by presents of water and jewels. One day, as he was roaming about in the wood to a.s.sist others, he saw a great well and looked into it. And a woman, who was in it, said to him in a loud voice; "n.o.ble sir, here are four of us; myself a woman, a lion, and a golden-crested bird, and a snake, fallen into this well in the night; so take us out; have mercy upon us." When he heard this, he said, "Granted that you three fell in because the darkness made it impossible for you to see your way, but how did the bird fall in?" The woman answered him, "It fell in by being caught in a fowler's net." Then the ascetic tried to lift them out by the supernatural power of his asceticism, but he could not; on the contrary, his power was gone. He reflected, "Surely this woman is a sinner, and owing to my having conversed with her, my power is gone from me. So I will use other means in this case." Then he plaited a rope of gra.s.s, and so drew them all four up out of the well, and they praised him. And in his astonishment he said to the lion, the bird, and the snake; "Tell me, how come you to have articulate voice, and what is your history?" Then the lion said, "We have articulate speech and we remember our former births, and we are mutual enemies; hear our stories in turns." So the lion began to tell his own story as follows:

The lion's story.

There is a splendid city on the Himalayas, called Vaiduryasringa; and in it there is a prince of the Vidyadharas named Padmavesa, and to him a son was born named Vajravega. That Vajravega, while he dwelt in the world of the Vidyadharas, being a vain-glorious person, quarrelled with any body and every body, confiding in his courage. His father ordered him to desist, but he paid no attention to his command. Then his father cursed him, saying, "Fall into the world of mortals." Then his arrogance was extinguished, and his knowledge left him, and smitten with the curse he wept, and asked his father to name a time when it should end. Then his father Padmavega thought a little, and said immediately; "You shall become a Brahman's son on the earth, and display this arrogance once more, and by your father's curse you shall become a lion and fall into a well. And a man of n.o.ble character, out of compa.s.sion, shall draw you out, and when you have recompensed him in his calamity, you shall be delivered from this curse." This was the termination of the curse which his father appointed for him.

Then Vajravega was born in Malava as Devaghosha, the son of Harighosha a Brahman. And in that birth also he fought with many, confiding in his heroism, and his father said to him, "Do not go on in this way quarrelling with every body." But he would not obey his father's orders, so his father cursed him--"Become immediately a foolish lion, over-confident in its strength." In consequence of this speech of his father's, Devaghosha, that incarnation of a Vidyadhara, was again born as a lion in this forest.

"Know that I am that lion. I was wandering about here at night, and as chance would have it, I fell into this well; and you, n.o.ble sir, have drawn me up out of it. So now I will depart, and, if you should fall into any difficulty, remember me; I will do you a good turn and so get released from my curse." After the lion had said this be went away, and the golden-crested bird, being questioned by that Bodhisattva, told his tale.