Vikram and the Vampire
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‘Wouldst thou have me bump thy back against the ground?’ asked Rajah Vikram angrily.
(The Baital muttered some reply scarcely intelligible about his having this time stumbled upon a metaphysical thread of ideas, and then continued his story.)
Now Rupsen, the king, began by inquiring of himself why the Rajput had rated his services so highly. Then he reflected that if this recruit had asked so much money, it must have been for some reason which would afterwards become apparent. Next, he hoped that if he gave him so much, his generosity might some day turn out to his own advantage. Finally, with this idea in his mind, he summoned Birbal and the steward of his household, and said to the latter, ‘Give this Rajput a thousand ounces of gold daily from our treasury.’
It is related that Birbal made the best possible use of his wealth. He used every morning to divide it into two portions, one of which was distributed to Brahmans and Parohitas.84 Of the remaining moiety, having made two parts, he gave one as alms to pilgrims, to Bairagis or Vishnu’s mendicants, and to Sanyasis or worshippers of Shiva, whose bodies, smeared with ashes, were hardly covered with a narrow cotton cloth and a rope about their loins, and whose heads of artificial hair, clotted like a rope, besieged his gate. With the remaining fourth, having caused food to be prepared, he regaled the poor, while he himself and his family ate what was left. Every evening, arming himself with sword and buckler, he took up his position as guard at the royal bedside, and walked round it all night sword in hand. If the king chanced to wake and asked who was present, Birbal immediately gave reply that ‘Birbal is here; whatever command you give, that he will obey.’ And oftentimes Rupsen gave him unusual commands, for it is said, ‘To try thy servant, bid him do things in season and out of season: if he obey thee willingly, know him to be useful; if he reply, dismiss him at once. Thus is a servant tried, even as a wife by the poverty of her husband, and brethren and friends by asking their aid.’
In such manner, through desire of money, Birbal remained on guard all night; and whether eating, drinking, sleeping, sitting, going or wandering about, during the twenty-four hours, he held his master in watchful remembrance. This, indeed, is the custom; if a man sell another the latter is sold, but a servant by doing service sells himself, and when a man has become dependent, how can he be happy? Certain it is that, however intelligent, clever, or learned a man may be, yet, while he is in his master’s presence, he remains silent as a dumb man, and struck with dread. Only while he is away from his lord can he be at ease. Hence, learned men say that to do service aright is harder than any religious study.
On one occasion it is related that there happened to be heard at night time the wailing of a woman in a neighbouring cemetery. The king on hearing it called out, ‘Who is in waiting?’
‘I am here,’ replied Birbal; ‘what command is there?’
‘Go,’ spoke the king, ‘to the place whence proceeds this sound of woman’s wail, and having inquired the cause of her grief, return quickly.’
On receiving this order the Rajput went to obey it; and the king, unseen by him, and attired in a black dress, followed for the purpose of observing his courage.
Presently Birbal arrived at the cemetery. And what sees he there? A beautiful woman of a light yellow colour, loaded with jewels from head to foot, holding a horn in her right and a necklace in her left hand. Sometimes she danced, sometimes she jumped, and sometimes she ran about. There was not a tear in her eye, but, beating her head and making lamentable cries, she kept dashing herself on the ground.
Seeing her condition, and not recognising the goddess born of sea foam, and whom all the host of heaven loved,85 Birbal inquired, ‘Why art thou thus beating thyself and crying out? Who art thou? And what grief is upon thee?’
‘I am the Royal-Luck,’ she replied.
‘For what reason,’ asked Birbal, ‘art thou weeping?’
The goddess then began to relate her position to the Rajput. She said, with tears, ‘In the king’s palace Shudra (or low caste acts) are done, and hence misfortune will certainly fall upon it, and I shall forsake it. After a month has passed the king, having endured excessive affliction, will die. In grief for this I weep. I have brought much happiness to the king’s house, and hence I am full of regret that this my prediction cannot in any way prove untrue.’
‘Is there,’ asked Birbal, ‘any remedy for this trouble, so that the king may be preserved and live a hundred years?’
‘Yes,’ said the goddess, ‘there is. About eight miles to the east thou wilt find a temple dedicated to my terrible sister Devi. Offer to her thy son’s head, cut off with thine own hand, and the reign of thy king shall endure for an age.’ So saying Raj-Lakshmi disappeared.
Birbal answered not a word, but with hurried steps he turned towards his home. The king, still in black so as not to be seen, followed him closely, and observed and listened to everything he did.
The Rajput went straight to his wife, awakened her, and related to her everything that had happened. The wise have said, ‘she alone deserves the name of wife who always receives her husband with affectionate and submissive words.’ When she heard the circumstances, she at once aroused her son, and her daughter also awoke. Then Birbal told them all that they must follow him to the temple of Devi in the wood.
On the way the Rajput said to his wife, ‘If thou wilt give up thy son willingly, I will sacrifice him for our master’s sake to Devi the Destroyer.’
She replied, ‘Father and mother, son and daughter, brother and relative, have I now none. You are everything to me. It is written in the scripture that a wife is not made pure by gifts to priests, nor by performing religious rites; her virtue consists in waiting upon her husband, in obeying him and in loving him – yea! though he be lame, maimed in the hands, dumb, deaf, blind, one-eyed, leprous, or humpbacked. It is a true saying that “a son under one’s authority, a body free from sickness, a desire to acquire knowledge, an intelligent friend, and an obedient wife; whoever holds these five will find them bestowers of happiness and dispellers of affliction. An unwilling servant, a parsimonious king, an insincere friend, and a wife not under control; such things are disturbers of ease and givers of trouble.”’
Then the good wife turned to her son and said, ‘Child, by the gift of thy head, the king’s life may be spared, and the kingdom remain unshaken.’
‘Mother,’ replied that excellent youth, ‘in my opinion we should hasten this matter. Firstly, I must obey your command; secondly, I must promote the interests of my master; thirdly, if this body be of any use to a goddess, nothing better can be done with it in this world.’
(‘Excuse me, Raja Vikram,’ said the Baital, interrupting himself, ‘if I repeat these fair discourses at full length; it is interesting to hear a young person, whose throat is about to be cut, talk so like a doctor of laws.’)
Then the youth thus addressed his sire: ‘Father, whoever can be of use to his master, the life of that man in this world has been lived to good purpose, and by reason of his usefulness he will be rewarded in other worlds.’
His sister, however, exclaimed, ‘If a mother should give poison to her daughter, and a father sell his son, and a king seize the entire property of his subjects, where then could one look for protection?’ But they heeded her not, and continued talking as they journeyed towards the temple of Devi – the king all the while secretly following them.
Presently they reached the temple, a single room, surrounded by a spacious paved area; in front was an immense building capable of seating hundreds of people. Before the image there were pools of blood, where victims had lately been slaughtered. In the sanctum was Devi, a large black figure with ten arms. With a spear in one of her right hands she pierced the giant Mahisha; and with one of her left hands she held the tail of a serpent, and the hair of the giant, whose breast the serpent was biting. Her other arms were all raised above her head, and were filled with different instruments of war; against her right leg leaned a lion.
Then Birbal joined his hands in prayer, and with Hindu mildness thus addressed the awful goddess: ‘O mother, let the king’s life be prolonged for a thousand years by the sacrifice of my son. O Devi, mother! destroy, destroy his enemies! Kill! kill! Reduce them to ashes! Drive them away! Devour them! devour them! Cut them in two! Drink! drink their blood! Destroy them root and branch! With thy thunderbolt, spear, scymitar, discus, or rope, annihilate them! Spheng! Spheng!’
The Rajput, having caused his son to kneel before the goddess, struck him so violent a blow that his head rolled upon the ground. He then threw the sword down, when his daughter, frantic with grief, snatched it up and struck her neck with such force that her head, separated from her body, fell. In her turn the mother, unable to survive the loss of her children, seized the weapon and succeeded in decapitating herself. Birbal, beholding all this slaughter, thus reflected: ‘My children are dead; why, now, should I remain in servitude, and upon whom shall I bestow the gold I receive from the king?’ He then gave himself so deep a wound in the neck, that his head also separated from his body.
Rupsen, the king, seeing these four heads on the ground, said in his heart, ‘For my sake has the family of Birbal been destroyed. Kingly power, for the purpose of upholding which the destruction of a whole household is necessary, is a mere curse, and to carry on government in this manner is not just.’ He then took up the sword and was about to slay himself, when the Destroying Goddess, probably satisfied with bloodshed, stayed his hand, bidding him at the same time ask any boon he pleased.
The generous monarch begged, thereupon, that his faithful servant might be restored to life, together with all his high-minded family; and the goddess Devi in the twinkling of an eye fetched from Patala, the regions below the earth, a vase full of Amrita, the water of immortality, sprinkled it upon the dead, and raised them all as before. After which the whole party walked leisurely home, and in due time the king divided his throne with his friend Birbal.
Having stopped for a moment, the Baital proceeded to remark, in a sententious tone, ‘Happy the servant who grudges not his own life to save that of his master! And happy, thrice happy the master who can annihilate all greedy longing for existence and worldly prosperity. Raja, I have to ask thee one searching question – Of these five, who was the greatest fool?’
‘Demon!’ exclaimed the great Vikram, all whose cherished feelings about fidelity and family affection, obedience and high-mindedness, were outraged by this Vampire view of the question; ‘if thou meanest by the greatest fool the noblest mind, I reply without hesitating Rupsen, the king.’
‘Why, prithee?’ asked the Baital.
‘Because, dull demon,’ said the king, ‘Birbal was bound to offer up his life for a master who treated him so generously; the son could not disobey his father, and the women naturally and instinctively killed themselves, because the example was set to them. But Rupsen the king gave up his throne for the sake of his retainer, and valued not a straw his life and his high inducements to live. For this reason I think him the most meritorious.’
‘Surely, mighty Vikram,’ laughed the Vampire, ‘you will be tired of ever clambering up yon tall tree, even had you the legs and arms of Hanuman86 himself.’
And so saying he disappeared from the cloth, although it had been placed upon the ground.
But the poor Baital had little reason to congratulate himself on the success of his escape. In a short time he was again bundled into the cloth with the usual want of ceremony, and he revenged himself by telling another true story.
THE VAMPIRE’S FOURTH STORY.
OF A WOMAN WHO TOLD THE TRUTH
‘Listen, great king!’ again began the Baital.
An unimportant Baniya87 (trader), Hiranyadatt, had a daughter, whose name was Madansena Sundari, the beautiful army of Cupid. Her face was like the moon; her hair like the clouds; her eyes like those of a musk-rat; her eyebrows like a bent bow; her nose like a parrot’s bill; her neck like that of a dove; her teeth like pomegranate grains; the red colour of her lips like that of a gourd; her waist lithe and bending like the pard’s; her hands and feet like softest blossoms; her complexion like the jasmine – in fact, day by day the splendour of her youth increased.
When she had arrived at maturity, her father and mother began often to revolve in their minds the subject of her marriage. And the people of all that country side ruled by Birbar king of Madanpur bruited it abroad that in the house of Hiranyadatt had been born a daughter by whose beauty gods, men, and munis (sages) were fascinated.
Thereupon many, causing their portraits to be painted, sent them by messengers to Hiranyadatt the Baniya, who showed them all to his daughter. But she was capricious, as beauties sometimes are, and when her father said, ‘Make choice of a husband thyself,’ she told him that none pleased her, and moreover she begged of him to find her a husband who possessed good looks, good qualities, and good sense.
At length, when some days had passed, four suitors came from four different countries. The father told them that he must have from each some indication that he possessed the required qualities; that he was pleased with their looks, but that they must satisfy him about their knowledge.
‘I have,’ the first said, ‘a perfect acquaintance with the Shastras (or Scriptures); in science there is none to rival me. As for my handsome mien, it may plainly be seen by you.’
The second exclaimed, ‘My attainments are unique in the knowledge of archery. I am acquainted with the art of discharging arrows and killing anything which though not seen is heard, and my fine proportions are plainly visible to you.’
The third continued, ‘I understand the language of land and water animals, of birds and of beasts, and I have no equal in strength. Of my comeliness you yourself may judge.’
‘I have the knowledge,’ quoth the fourth, ‘how to make a certain cloth which can be sold for five rubies: having sold it I give the proceeds of one ruby to a Brahman, of the second I make an offering to a deity, a third I wear on my own person, a fourth I keep for my wife; and, having sold the fifth, I spend it in giving feasts. This is my knowledge, and none other is acquainted with it. My good looks are apparent.’
The father hearing these speeches began to reflect, ‘It is said that excess in anything is not good. Sita88 was very lovely, but the demon Ravana carried her away; and Bali king of Mahabahpur gave much alms, but at length he became poor.89 My daughter is too fair to remain a maiden; to which of these shall I give her?’
So saying, Hiranyadatt went to his daughter, explained the qualities of the four suitors, and asked, ‘To which shall I give thee?’ On hearing these words she was abashed; and, hanging down her head, knew not what to reply.
Then the Baniya, having reflected, said to himself, ‘He who is acquainted with the Shastras is a Brahman, he who could shoot an arrow at the sound was a Kshatriya or warrior, and he who made the cloth was a Shudra or servile. But the youth who understands the language of birds is of our own caste. To him, therefore, will I marry her.’ And accordingly he proceeded with the betrothal of his daughter.
Meanwhile Madansena went one day, during the spring season, into the garden for a stroll. It happened, just before she came out, that Somdatt, the son of the merchant Dharmdatt, had gone for pleasure into the forest, and was returning through the same garden to his home.
He was fascinated at the sight of the maiden, and said to his friend, ‘Brother, if I can obtain her my life will be prosperous, and if I do not obtain her my living in the world will be in vain.’
Having thus spoken, and becoming restless from the fear of separation, he involuntarily drew near to her, and seizing her hand, said —
‘If thou wilt not form an affection for me, I will throw away my life on thy account.’
‘Be pleased not to do this,’ she replied; ‘it will be sinful, and it will involve me in the guilt and punishment of shedding blood; hence I shall be miserable in this world and in that to be.’
‘Thy blandishments,’ he replied, ‘have pierced my heart, and the consuming thought of parting from thee has burnt up my body, and memory and understanding have been destroyed by this pain; and from excess of love I have no sense of right or wrong. But if thou wilt make me a promise, I will live again.’
She replied, ‘Truly the Kali Yug (iron age) has commenced, since which time falsehood has increased in the world and truth has diminished; people talk smoothly with their tongues, but nourish deceit in their hearts; religion is destroyed, crime has increased, and the earth has begun to give little fruit. Kings levy fines, Brahmans have waxed covetous, the son obeys not his sire’s commands, brother distrusts brother; friendship has departed from amongst friends; sincerity has left masters; servants have given up service; man has abandoned manliness; and woman has abandoned modesty. Five days hence, my marriage is to be; but if thou slay not thyself, I will visit thee first, and after that I will remain with my husband.’
Having given this promise, and having sworn by the Ganges, she returned home. The merchant’s son also went his way.
Presently the marriage ceremonies came on, and Hiranyadatt the Baniya expended a lakh of rupees in feasts and presents to the bridegroom. The bodies of the twain were anointed with turmeric, the bride was made to hold in her hand the iron box for eye paint, and the youth a pair of betel scissors. During the night before the wedding there was loud and shrill music, the heads and limbs of the young couple were rubbed with an ointment of oil, and the bridegroom‘s head was duly shaved. The wedding procession was very grand. The streets were a blaze of flambeaux and torches carried in the hand, fireworks by the ton were discharged as the people passed; elephants, camels, and horses richly caparisoned, were placed in convenient situations; and before the procession had reached the house of the bride half a dozen wicked boys and bad young men were killed or wounded.90 After the marriage formulas were repeated the Baniya gave a feast or supper, and the food was so excellent that all sat down quietly, no one uttered a complaint, or brought dishonour on the bride’s family, or cut with scissors the garments of his neighbour.
The ceremony thus happily concluded, the husband brought Madansena home to his own house. After some days the wife of her husband’s youngest brother and also the wife of his eldest brother led her at night by force to her bridegroom, and seated her on a bed ornamented with flowers.
As her husband proceeded to take her hand, she jerked it away, and at once openly told him all that she had promised to Somdatt on condition of his not killing himself.
‘All things,’ rejoined the bridegroom, hearing her words, ‘have their sense ascertained by speech; in speech they have their basis, and from speech they proceed; consequently a falsifier of speech falsifies everything. If truly you are desirous of going to him, go!’
Receiving her husband’s permission, she arose and went off to the young merchant’s house in full dress. Upon the road a thief saw her, and in high good humour came up and asked —
‘Whither goest thou at midnight in such darkness, having put on all these fine clothes and ornaments?’
She replied that she was going to the house of her beloved.
‘And who here,’ said the thief, ‘is thy protector?’
‘Kama Deva,’ she replied, ‘the beautiful youth who by his fiery arrows wounds with love the hearts of the inhabitants of the three worlds, Ratipati, the husband of Rati,91 accompanied by the kokila bird,92 the humming bee and gentle breezes.’ She then told to the thief the whole story, adding —
‘Destroy not my jewels: I give thee a promise before I go that on my return thou shalt have all these ornaments.’
Hearing this the thief thought to himself that it would be useless now to destroy her jewels, when she had promised to give them to him presently of her own good will. He therefore let her go, and sat down and thus soliloquised:
‘To me it is astonishing that he who sustained me in my mother’s womb should take no care of me now that I have been born and am able to enjoy the good things of this world. I know not whether he is asleep or dead. And I would rather swallow poison than ask man for money or favour. For these six things tend to lower a man: – friendship with the perfidious; causeless laughter; altercation with women; serving an unworthy master; riding an ass, and speaking any language but Sanskrit. And these five things the deity writes on our fate at the hour of birth: – first, age; secondly, action; thirdly, wealth; fourthly, science; fifthly, fame. I have now done a good deed, and as long as a man’s virtue is in the ascendant, all people becoming his servants obey him. But when virtuous deeds diminish, even his friends become inimical to him.’
Meanwhile Madansena had reached the place where Somdatt the young trader had fallen asleep.
She awoke him suddenly, and he springing up in alarm quickly asked her, ‘Art thou the daughter of a deity? or of a saint? or of a serpent? Tell me truly, who art thou? And whence hast thou come?’
She replied, ‘I am human – Madansena, the daughter of the Baniya Hiranyadatt. Dost thou not remember taking my hand in that grove, and declaring that thou wouldst slay thyself if I did not swear to visit thee first and after that remain with my husband?’
‘Hast thou,’ he inquired, ‘told all this to thy husband or not?’
She replied, ‘I have told him everything; and he, thoroughly understanding the whole affair, gave me permission.’
‘This matter,’ exclaimed Somdatt in a melancholy voice, ‘is like pearls without a suitable dress, or food without clarified butter,93 or singing without melody; they are all alike unnatural. In the same way, unclean clothes will mar beauty, bad food will undermine strength, a wicked wife will worry her husband to death, a disreputable son will ruin his family, an enraged demon will kill, and a woman, whether she love or hate, will be a source of pain. For there are few things which a woman will not do. She never brings to her tongue what is in her heart, she never speaks out what is on her tongue, and she never tells what she is doing. Truly the Deity has created woman a strange creature in this world.’ He concluded with these words: ‘Return thou home; with another man’s wife I have no concern.’
Madansena rose and departed. On her way she met the thief, who, hearing her tale, gave her great praise, and let her go unplundered.94
She then went to her husband, and related the whole matter to him. But he had ceased to love her, and he said, ‘Neither a king nor a minister, nor a wife, nor a person’s hair nor his nails, look well out of their places. And the beauty of the kokila is its note, of an ugly man knowledge, of a devotee forgiveness, and of a woman her chastity.’
The Vampire having narrated thus far, suddenly asked the king, ‘Of these three, whose virtue was the greatest?’
Vikram, who had been greatly edified by the tale, forgot himself, and ejaculated, ‘The Thief’s.’
‘And pray why?’ asked the Baital.
‘Because,’ the hero explained, ‘when her husband saw that she loved another man, however purely, he ceased to feel affection for her. Somdatt let her go unharmed, for fear of being punished by the king. But there was no reason why the thief should fear the law and dismiss her; therefore he was the best.’
‘Hi! hi! hi!’ laughed the demon, spitefully. ‘Here, then, ends my story.’
Upon which, escaping as before from the cloth in which he was slung behind the Raja’s back, the Baital disappeared through the darkness of the night, leaving father and son looking at each other in dismay.
‘Son Dharma Dhwaj,’ quoth the great Vikram, ‘the next time when that villain Vampire asks me a question, I allow thee to take the liberty of pinching my arm even before I have had time to answer his questions. In this way we shall never, of a truth, end our task.’