The Sanskrit Epics, page 929
32. ‘Leaving me helplessly asleep in the night, whither, O Khamdaka, is he, the desire of my heart, gone? and when thou and Kamthaka are alone come back, while three went away together, my mind trembles.
33. ‘Why dost thou weep to-day, O cruel one, having done a dishonourable, pitiless, and unfriendly deed to me? Cease thy tears and be content in thy heart, — tears and that deed of thine ill agree.
34. ‘Through thee, his dear obedient faithful loyal companion, always doing what was right, the son of my lord is gone never to return, — rejoice, — all hail! thy pains have gained their end.
35. ‘Better for a man a wise enemy rather than a foolish friend unskilled in emergencies; by thee, the unwise self-styled friend, a great calamity has been brought upon this family.
36. ‘These women are sorely to be pitied who have put away their ornaments, having their eyes red and dimmed with continuous tears, who are as it were desolate widows, though their lord still stands as unshaken as the earth or Mount Himavat.
37. ‘And these lines of palaces seem to weep aloud, flinging up their dovecots for arms, with the long unbroken moan of their doves, — separated verily, with him, from all who could restrain them.
38. ‘Even that horse Kamthaka without doubt desired my utter ruin; for he bore away from hence my treasure when all were sound asleep in the night, — like one who steals jewels.
39. ‘When he was able to bear even the onsets of arrows, and still more the strokes of whips, — how then for fear of the fall of a whip, could he go carrying with him my prosperity and my heart together?
40. ‘The base creature now neighs loudly, filling the king’s palace with the sound; but when he carried away my beloved, then this vilest of horses was dumb.
41. ‘If he had neighed and so woke up the people, or had even made a noise with his hoofs on the ground, or had made the loudest sound he could with his jaws, my grief would not have been so great.’
42. Having thus heard the queen’s words, their syllables choked with tears and full of lament, slowly Khamdaka uttered this answer, with his face bent down, his voice low with tears, and his hands clasped in supplication:
43. ‘Surely, O queen, thou wilt not blame Kamthaka nor wilt thou show thy anger against me, — know that we two are entirely guiltless, — that god amongst men, O queen, is gone away like a god.
44. ‘I indeed, though I well knew the king’s command, as though dragged by force by some divine powers, brought quickly to him this swift steed, and followed him on the road unwearied.
45. ‘And this best of horses as he went along touched not the ground with the tips of his hoofs as if they were kept aloft from it; and so too, having his mouth restrained as by fate, he made no sound with his jaws and neighed not.
46. ‘When the prince went out, then the gate was thrown open of its own accord; and the darkness of the night was, as it were, pierced by the sun, — we may learn from hence too that this was the ordering of fate.
47. ‘When also by the king’s command, in palace and city, diligent guards had been placed by thousands, and at that time they were all overcome by sleep and woke not, — we may learn from hence too that this was the ordering of fate.
48. ‘When also the garment, approved for a hermit’s dwelling in the forest, was offered to him at the moment by some denizen of heaven, and the tiara which he threw into the sky was carried off, — we may learn from hence too that this was the ordering of fate.
49. ‘Do not therefore assume that his departure arises from the fault of either of us, O queen; neither I nor this horse acted by our own choice; he went on his way with the gods as his retinue.’
50. Having thus heard the history of the prince’s departure, so marvellous in many ways, those women, as though losing their grief, were filled with wonder, but they again took up their distress at the thought of his becoming an ascetic.
51. With her eyes filled with the tears of despondency, wretched like an osprey who has lost her young, — Gautamî abandoning all self-control wailed aloud, — she fainted, and with a weeping face exclaimed:
52. ‘Beautiful, soft, black, and all in great waves, growing each from its own special root, — those hairs of his are tossed on the ground, worthy to be encircled by a royal diadem.
53. ‘With his long arms and lion-gait, his bull-like eye, and his beauty bright like gold, his broad chest, and his voice deep as a drum or a cloud, should such a hero as this dwell in a hermitage?
54. ‘This earth is indeed unworthy as regards that peerless doer of noble actions, for such a virtuous hero has gone away from her, — it is the merits and virtues of the subjects which produce their king.
55. ‘Those two feet of his, tender, with their beautiful web spread between the toes, with their ankles concealed, and soft like a blue lotus, — how can they, bearing a wheel marked in the middle, walk on the hard ground of the skirts of the forest?
56. ‘That body, which deserves to sit or lie on the roof of a palace, — honoured with costly garments, aloes, and sandal-wood, — how will that manly body live in the woods, exposed to the attacks of the cold, the heat, and the rain?
57. ‘He who was proud of his family, goodness, strength, energy, sacred learning, beauty, and youth, — who was ever ready to give, not to ask, — how will he go about begging alms from others?
58. ‘He who, lying on a spotless golden bed, was awakened during the night by the concert of musical instruments, — how alas! will he, my ascetic, sleep to-day on the bare ground with only one rag of cloth interposed?’
59. Having heard this piteous lamentation, the women, embracing one another with their arms, rained the tears from their eyes, as the shaken creepers drop honey from their flowers.
60. Then Yasodharâ fell upon the ground, like the ruddy goose parted from her mate, and in utter bewilderment she slowly lamented, with her voice repeatedly stopped by sobs:
61. ‘If he wishes to practise a religious life after abandoning me his lawful wife widowed, — where is his religion, who wishes to follow penance without his lawful wife to share it with him?
62. ‘He surely has never heard of the monarchs of olden times, his own ancestors, Mahâsudarsa and the rest, — how they went with their wives into the forest, — that he thus wishes to follow a religious life without me.
63. ‘He does not see that husband and wife are both consecrated in sacrifices, and both purified by the performance of the rites of the Veda, and both destined to enjoy the same results afterwards, — he therefore grudges me a share in his merit.
64. ‘Surely it must be that this fond lover of religion, knowing that my mind was secretly quarrelling even with my beloved, lightly and without fear has deserted me thus angry, in the hope to obtain heavenly nymphs in Indra’s world!
65. ‘But what kind of a thought is this of mine? those women even there have the attributes which belong to bodies, — for whose sake he thus practises austerities in the forest, deserting his royal magnificence and my fond devotion.
66. ‘I have no such longing for the joy of heaven, nor is that hard for even common people to win if they are resolute; but my one desire is how he my beloved may never leave me either in this world or the next.
67. ‘Even if I am unworthy to look on my husband’s face with its long eyes and bright smile, still is this poor Râhula never to roll about in his father’s lap?
68. ‘Alas! the mind of that wise hero is terribly stern, — gentle as his beauty seems, it is pitilessly cruel, — who can desert of his own accord such an infant son with his inarticulate talk, one who would charm even an enemy.
69. ‘My heart too is certainly most stern, yea, made of rock or fashioned even of iron, which does not break when its lord is gone to the forest, deserted by his royal glory like an orphan, — he so well worthy of happiness.’
70. So the queen, fainting in her woe, wept and pondered and wailed aloud repeatedly, — self-possessed as she was by nature, yet in her distress she remembered not her fortitude and felt no shame.
71. Seeing Yasodharâ thus bewildered with her wild utterances of grief and fallen on the ground, all the women cried out with their faces streaming with tears like large lotuses beaten by the rain.
72. But the king, having ended his prayers, and performed the auspicious rites of the sacrifice, now came out of the temple; and being smitten by the wailing sound of the people, he tottered like an elephant at the crash of a thunderbolt.
73. Having heard (of the arrival) of both Khamdaka and Kamthaka, and having learned the fixed resolve of his son, the lord of the earth fell struck down by sorrow like the banner of Indra when the festival is over.
74. Then the king, distracted by his grief for his son, being held up for a moment by his attendants all of the same race, gazed on the horse with his eyes filled with tears, and then falling on the ground wailed aloud:
75. ‘After having done many dear exploits for me in battle, one great deed of cruelty, O Kamthaka, hast thou done, — for by thee that dear son of mine, dear for his every virtue, has been tossed down in the wood, dear as he was, like a worthless thing.
76. ‘Therefore either lead me to-day where he is, or go quickly and bring him back again; without him there is no life left to me, as to one plunged in sickness without the true medicine.
77. ‘When Suvarnanishthîvin was carried away by death, it seemed impossible that Srimgaya should not die; and shall I, when my duty-loving son is gone, fear to set my soul free, like any coward?
78. ‘How should not the mind of Manu himself be distracted, when parted from his dear virtuous son, — (Manu) the son of Vivasvat, who knew the higher and the lower, the mighty lord of creatures, the institutor of the ten chieftains.
79. ‘I envy the monarch, that friend of Indra, the wise son of king Aga, who, when his son went into the forest, went himself to heaven, and dragged out no miserable life here with vain tears.
80. ‘Describe to me, O beloved one, the court of that hermitage, whither thou hast carried him who is as my funeral oblation of water; these my vital airs are all ready to depart, and are eager for it, longing to drink it.’
81. Thus the king, in his grief for his separation from his son, — losing all his innate firmness which was stedfast like the earth, — loudly lamented as one distraught, like Dasaratha, a prey to his sorrow for Râma.
4. Dasaratha.]
82. Then the wise counsellor, endued with religious learning, courtesy, and virtue, and the old family priest, spoke to him as was befitting in these well-weighed words, neither with their faces overwhelmed by grief nor yet wholly unmoved:
83. ‘Cease, O noblest of men, thy grief, regain thy firmness, — surely thou wilt not, O firm hero, shed tears like one of no self-control’; many kings on this earth have gone into the forests, throwing away their royal pomp like a crushed wreath.
84. ‘Moreover, this his state of mind was all predetermined; remember those words long ago of the holy sage Asita; “He will never be made to dwell even for a moment contentedly in heaven or in an emperor’s domain.”
85. ‘But if, O best of men, the effort must be made, quickly speak the word, we two will at once go together; let the battle be waged in every way with thy son and his fate whatever it be.’
86. Then the king commanded them both, ‘Do you both go quickly hence, — my heart will not return to quiet, any more than a bird’s in the woods longing for its young.’
87. With a prompt acquiescence at the king’s order the counsellor and the family priest went to that forest; and then with his wives and his queen the king also, saying, ‘It is done,’ performed the remainder of the rites.
BOOK IX.
1. THEN THE two, the counsellor and the family priest, beaten by the king with his scourge of tears, went with every effort to that forest in the hurry of affection, like two noble horses goaded.
2. Having come at last full of weariness to that hermitage, accompanied by a fitting train, — they dismissed their royal pomp and with sober gestures entered the abode of Bhârgava.
3. Having saluted that Brâhman with due respect, and having been honoured by him with due reverence in return, having seated themselves, plunging at once into the subject, they addressed Bhârgava, who was likewise seated, concerning their errand.
4. ‘Let your honour know us to be respectively imperfect proficients in preserving the sacred learning and in retaining the state-counsels, — in the service of the monarch of the Ikshvâku race, pure in his valour and pure and wide in his glory.
5. ‘His son, who is like Gayanta, while he himself is like Indra, has come here, it is said, desirous to escape from the fear of old age and death, — know that we two are come here on account of him.’
6. He answered them, ‘That prince of the long arms did indeed come here, but not as one unawakened; “this dharma only brings us back again,” — recognising this, he went off forthwith towards Arâda, seeking liberation.’
7. Then they two, having understood the true state of things, bade that Brâhman at once farewell, and wearied though they were, went on as if they were unwearied, thither whither the prince was gone.
8. As they were going, they saw him bereft of all ornaments, but still radiant with his beauty, sitting like a king in the road at the foot of a tree, like the sun under the canopy of a cloud.
9. Leaving his chariot, the family priest then went up to the prince with the counsellor, as the saint Aurvaseya went with Vâmadeva, wishing to see Râma when he dwelt in the forest.
10. They paid him honour as was fitting, as Sukra and Amgiras honoured Indra in heaven; and he in return paid due honour to them, as Indra in heaven to Sukra and Amgiras.
11. Then they, having obtained his permission, sat down near him who was the banner of the Sâkya race; and they shone in his proximity like the two stars of the asterism Punarvasû in conjunction with the moon.
12. The family priest addressed the prince who shone brightly as he sat at the foot of the tree, as Vrihaspati addressed Indra’s son Gayanta, seated in heaven under the heavenly tree parikata:
13. ‘O prince, consider for a moment what the king with his eyes raining tears said to thee, as he lay fainting on the ground with the arrow of thy sorrow plunged into his heart.
14. ‘“I know that thy resolve is fixed upon religion, and I am convinced that this purpose of thine is unchanging; but I am consumed with a flame of ] anguish like fire at thy flying to the woods at an inopportune time.
15. ‘“Come, thou who lovest duty, for the sake of what is my heart’s desire, — abandon this purpose for the sake of duty; this huge swollen stream of sorrow sweeps me away as a river’s torrent its bank.
16. ‘“That effect which is wrought in the clouds, water, the dry grass, and the mountains by the wind, the sun, the fire, and the thunderbolt, — that same effect this grief produces in us by its tearing in pieces, its drying up, its burning, and its cleaving.
17. “‘Enjoy therefore for a while the sovereignty of the earth, — thou shalt go to the forest at the time provided by the sâstras, — do not show disregard for thy unhappy kindred, — compassion for all creatures is the true religion.
18. ‘“Religion is not wrought out only in the forests, the salvation of ascetics can be accomplished even in a city; thought and effort are the true means; the forest and the badge are only a coward’s signs.
19. ‘“Liberation has been attained even by householders, Indras among men, who wore diadems, and carried strings of pearls suspended on their shoulders, whose garlands were entangled with bracelets, and who lay cradled in the lap of Fortune.
20. ‘“Bali and Vagrabâhu, the two younger brothers of Dhruva, Vaibhrâga, shâdha, and Amtideva, and Ganaka also, the king of the Videhas, and king Senagit’s son, his tree of ripe blessing;
21. ‘“Know that all these great kings who were householders were well skilled in attaining the merit which leads to final bliss, — do thou also therefore obtain both simultaneously — royal magnificence and the control over the mind.
22. ‘“I desire, — when I have once closely embraced thee after thy kingly consecration is once performed, and while thou art still wet with the sacred water, — when I behold thee with the pomp of the royal umbrella, — in the fulness of that joy to enter the forest.”
23. ‘Thus did the king say to thee in a speech whose words were stopped by tears, — surely having heard it, for the sake of what is so dear to him, thou wilt with all affection follow his affection.
24. ‘The king of the Sâkyas is drowned in a deep sea of sorrow, full of waves of trouble, springing from thee; do thou therefore deliver him helpless and protectorless like an ox drowning in the sea.
25. ‘Having heard that Bhîshma who sprang from Gangâ’s womb, Râma, and Râma the son of Bhrigu, — all did what would please their fathers; — surely thou too wilt do thy father’s desire.
26. ‘Consider also the queen, who brought thee
3. Ubhe*pi, although with pragrihya e.] up, who has not yet gone to the region inhabited by Agastya — wilt thou not take some heed of her, who ceaselessly grieves like a fond cow that has lost her calf?
27. ‘Surely thou wilt succour thy wife by the sight of thee, who now mourns widowed yet with her lord still alive, — like a swan separated from her mate or a female elephant deserted in the forest by her companion.
28. ‘Thy only son, a child little deserving such woe, distressed with sorrow, and . . . . — O deliver Râhula from the grief of his kindred like the full moon from the contact of Râhu!
29. ‘Burned with the fire of anguish within him, to which thy absence adds fresh fuel, — a fire whose smoke is sighs and its flame despair, — he wanders for a sight of thee through the women’s apartments and the whole city.’
30. The Bodhisattva, — whose perfection was absolute, — having heard the words of the family priest, reflected for a moment, knowing all the virtues of the virtuous, and then thus uttered his gentle reply:
31. ‘I well know the paternal tenderness of the king, especially that which he has displayed towards me; yet knowing this as I do, still alarmed at sickness, old age, and death, I am inevitably forced to leave my kindred.
