The Story of Surasundarī 3

Then he too was asked by me: “By whom have you been cast into such terrible misfortune? / And for what reason, good sir, in vain?”

And thus asked, he sighed deeply with sorrow / and, shedding tears that betokened the deep sorrow within his heart,

then spoke: “Well said! In this saṃsāra, for living beings whose minds are deluded by passion, / who do not look far ahead, misfortunes are easily met.

For souls wandering in the ocean of saṃsāra, good sir, / whose sense faculties are unrestrained, misfortunes are indeed no wonder.

All sorrow of living beings arises from the faults of past karma; / another person is merely an instrumental cause in faults and merits.

In the ultimate truth, no one creates happiness or sorrow for a man; / past karma alone acts as it pleases in producing happiness and sorrow.”

Then I said: “So it is, there is no doubt of this. / Nevertheless, our desire is to know the particular cause.”

Then he said: “O handsome one! If such is truly your insistence, / then, becoming single-minded, listen to what is being related.

Here in the realm of Bharata, there is a mountain named Vaitāḍhya, famed, accessible to hosts of skyfarers, / like a towering heap of silver, possessing splendor spreading to the ten directions;

deafening the horizons with the roaring sounds of gushing waterfalls; / with forests adorned by swarms of bees eager to drink nectar;

with the murmur of flowing rivers heard in every direction; / embellished here and there with rows of great cities of Vidyādharas;

with solitary spots crowded by Vidyādharas intent on perfecting magical spells; / its crest-peaks adorned with excellent shrines of the perfected ones;

the expanse of whose sky is brightened by rows of various gods / coming to worship the images of the Jinas installed in the shrines of the perfected ones;

where music is constantly made in forest after forest at every noon / by Vidyādharas together with their beloveds, staying in plantain bowers;

where hosts of living beings are awakened here and there by sky-faring monks / who have commenced their sermons in exceedingly sweet speech;

which, reaching from the eastern to the western ocean, standing in the middle region, / has divided the realm of Bharata into two, as if a talebearer causing discord;

adorned with two vast terraces divided into south and north, / possessing all kinds of prosperity.

There, on the southern terrace, filled with the sky-faring people, / resonant with the jingling sound of anklets of roving sky-faring women,

ever resplendent with multitudes of Vidyādhara dwellings / possessing the beauty of unequaled gate-fronts with lofty makara-arches,

is a city named Ratnasañcaya, the innate abode of all the splendor of the three worlds, / rich in civic virtues, containing a multitude of delighted men and women.

And in that city, crowded with many hundreds of thousands of Vidyādharas, / there dwells an excellent skyfarer named Pavanagati, a treasure of virtues.

His wife, endowed with discernment and modesty, of extremely affectionate nature toward her husband, / surpassing the bakula flower with her own fragrance, is named Bakulavatī.

As he enjoyed worldly pleasures with her, in due course / I was born as their only son, creating joy in their hearts.

On my very birthday, a birth-festival that astonished the minds of the citizens / was caused to be celebrated by my father with boundless joy.

And when twelve days had passed in due order, / my mother and father, out of great delight, bestowed on me the name Cittavega.”

And when a few years had passed, on an auspicious lunar day and lunar mansion, / my father entrusted me to a teacher of great intellect.

Then, in a short time, through the influence of such a teacher / and through the strength of my own intellect, I mastered all the arts.

My father imparted to me the sciences handed down in our own family, / beginning with the sky-faring lore, which were to be mastered according to rule.

Then, gradually, I attained the onset of fresh youth, / which displays the stirrings of love and is magnificent in enchanting the hearts of women.

One day, surrounded by companions of equal youth, / I reached an enchanting garden adorned with clusters of diverse trees.

While we remained there for a moment having begun various sports, / just then in the sky was seen a procession of celestial aerial chariots,

with the expanse of the sky sprinkled with the blazing lustre of radiating, choice jewels, / moving toward the northern quarter, splendid with the singing of celestial nymphs.

Seeing that, I said: "Look! Where has this host of gods departed, / their cheek-surfaces white with swinging earrings and pearls?

Smiling slightly, my companion Bandhudatta said: / "This is very well known to those who dwell on Mount Vaitāḍhya.

In order to venerate the Jina, the multitude of gods comes here to the shrines of the liberated souls, / always, O companion! So why ask about a well-known matter?"

Then I said: "It is so, but listen: / the gods do not always come here with such great splendour.

Today, however, with aerial chariots, with all their supernatural power, and with great joy / they are seen going; therefore, my friend, I asked!"

Then, having reflected for a moment with speculation, Bandhudatta said: / "Ah, I know! The pilgrimages to the shrines of the liberated souls have begun,

because spring is underway, exuberant with the spreading, fragrant breeze of Mount Malaya, / the vast host of forests resplendent with all the excellent trees in sprout.

Moreover, with their broad branches dense with foliage waving in the blowing Malayan breeze, / the trees seem to dance with great delight at the arrival of the spring month.

With the deep hum of swarms of bees drawn by the fragrance of blossoms, / the multitudes of trees, pleased at the arrival of the spring month, seem to sing.

Yellow with nectar, their mouths the spread, fragrant blossoms, / the rows of forests seem to laugh upon seeing the arrival of the spring month.

Seeing the multitude of trees with thick, leafy shade in the spring season, as it were, / the palāśa tree, feeling disdained, suddenly became black-faced.

‘Let alone the fruiting season—even at the time of flowering there is blackness on its face!’ / Thinking thus, as it were, the palāśa was abandoned by its leaves, like a miser [by his wealth].

Seeing the forest's richness, the palāśa branches closed their faces; / indeed, others too who lack merit cannot endure the prosperity of another.

Moreover, having attained the spring month in the forest, completely red, / the kiṁśuka goblin causes fear in travellers separated from their beloveds.

Furthermore, seeing the wives of travellers violently struck without pity, / as it were, by the five-arrowed hunter using the spring month as his hunting bird,

the mango branches seemed to laugh with the cooing sound made by the cuckoos perched within them, / displaying a prominent row of teeth in the form of blossoms.

Seeing the multitude of travellers slain by the hunter of the spring month, / the creepers, their faces cast down, seem to weep with tear-drops of blossoms.

Huge funeral pyres of dead travellers seem to burn in place after place / under the guise of dense kiṁśuka flowers, sizzling with the buzzing sound of bees.

On the banks of mountain streams, with their branch-hands submerged in water shaking in the wind, / the trees seem to offer a libation of water to the travellers.

Furthermore, adorned with fresh shoots like dense kiṁśuka flowers, with excellent Cupid's fruits bound upon her, / having pāṭalā blossoms, the splendour of spring shines like a new bride.

Moreover, though accompanied by Mercury and attached to Venus, the Sun, through the majesty of spring, / having enjoyed Pisces, is now eager for Aries."

"Therefore, in such a spring, when the calls of cuckoos spread in every direction, / and the grounds of gardens resound with the spreading noise of street dances,

passionate folk sport, young women are swung on swings, / the sound of drums spreads, and youths drink choice liquor.

In the spring month dear to young women whose lovers are subject to their will, / pilgrimages are made here by people devoted to Dharma.

Out of devotion to the images of the Jina, these gods have therefore assembled / with all respect for the sake of pilgrimage to the peaks of the liberated souls on Mount Vaitāḍhya."

Then I said: "If so, O companion, we too, / having gone to the peaks of the liberated souls, [shall make] the eternal images of the Omniscient One..."

"...bowing to them with devotion, make our human birth fruitful, / and behold the Jina-festival being performed by hosts of Vidyādharas!"

Then all of them said: "So be it; you have spoken well!" / In the meantime, my foster-brother named Bala arrived.

Having arrived, he said: "Cittavega, your father has said: / 'Indeed, all these Vidyādhara folk residing in Ratnasañcaya,

bathed, their bodies anointed, in fine attire, with great splendour, / have set out for the Jina-festival at the nearby peak of the liberated souls.

Together with him, we too have set out; therefore come at once, / having performed your bath and other rites, so that we may go together.'"

Hearing his words, I went to my house into the presence of my father; / and those companions of mine also arrived at their respective homes.

Having performed my bath and other rites, I then, taking everything suitable for the occasion— / incense, flowers, and the like—together with my father, flying with the speed of wind,

and accompanied by the citizens, soared into the sky, dark as a sword. / As I went on, by degrees the temple of the Lord of Jinas was seen,

which, with flag-banners gently swaying in the soft blowing breeze, / seemed to make a sign for the multitude of people to come,

and which, with the sound of musical instruments—beginning with kettledrums, mṛdaṅgas, maddalas, and cymbals— / seemed to summon the people at the time of the Lord of Jinas' festival.

Then, by degrees, they reached the temple of the Lord of Jinas, where troupes of apsarases were dancing in every direction, / which delighted the host of the faithful with the charming melody of song,

with canopies made of various cloths, charming in appearance, / with festoons of hanging, spotless, excellent pearl necklaces arranged in artistic designs,

having dense pavilions of flowers constructed, strewn with various hanging star-like ornaments, / the expanse of its courtyard covered over by an excellent pavilion,

the area of its courtyards adorned with tautly-stretched awnings, / and its interior beautified by choice archways made of blossoms.

And in the doorway area of that [temple], having washed my feet / in a step-well filled with clear water, surrounded by my own companions,

Taking flowers from a heap of blooming floral garlands held aloft at the entrance of the Jina's temple, / I entered inside in accordance with the prescribed rites.

Having worshipped the images of the Jina and performed the caitya-veneration as prescribed, / I came outside and sat down in the midst of the Vidyādharas.

While the ritual bath of the Jina was underway, I strolled here and there / together with my companions, displaying various curiosities to one another:

Watching the graceful courtesans dancing in various ways in one place, / and in another, a throng of eminent poets composing new accounts of the deeds of the Jina;

Listening in one place to the sound of singing blending with the resonance of the vīṇā, / and observing in another place the offering-rites arranged in various forms;

Hearing in one place the rāsa-dance being performed by young men, / and in another place songs of praise being sung by celestial maidens.

And while, out of curiosity, I was wandering about at leisure / in various places in that temple together with my companions,

Just then, my maternal uncle's son Bhānuvega approached joyfully, / gave me an embrace, and said: "It has been a long time since I saw you!

Are Pavanagati and my father's sister Bakulavatī well?" / Then I said: "All are well; and furthermore,

Noble cousin, they have arrived right here and are staying in this Jina temple." / Accompanied by him, I went into the presence of my parents.

Affectionately embraced by them, he was asked for news, and he said: / "My parents are well; their failure to come was due to a special reason."

Then I said to him: "This pilgrimage festival of the Jina is almost completed; / so now come to our home as a guest for a while."

Then Bhānuvega said: "That is true, but listen: / my father Cittabhānu said, 'Return quickly.'

Therefore, Cittavega, come right now to my city, / for your maternal uncle is exceedingly longing for you."

Addressed thus by him, and permitted by my parents, / I, accompanied by my cousin, arrived at the city of Kuñjarāvarta.

And there, upon seeing me, Cittabhānu was exceedingly delighted and said: / "You have done well, since you have come as our guest."

Having recounted all my news and finished dining and other activities, / when night fell, I fell asleep on an excellent bed.

And there, at dawn, while the cocks were crowing, / I saw this dream, the like of which had never been seen before:

It seemed that, seeing a charming garland of white flowers, I set out to take it, / but somehow I was not able to grasp it.

Then it was handed over by some friend, and I took it with reverence. / While I was about to place it upon my own neck, suddenly

it slipped from my hand and fell somewhere, and I did not know where it went; / then great grief arose in me due to separation from it.

"Even though it had withered, I have made it burst into unfading blossoms once again," / saying this, someone placed it around my neck.

Just then, hearing the sound of musical instruments filled with the noise of sharp paṭaha, jhallarī, kāhala, bhambhā, and mardaṅga drums, / my sleep suddenly vanished.

Then, having seen a dream filled with both joy and dejection, I pondered in my heart: / "What indeed does this dream, never seen before, portend for me?

Alas! What could this garland be? Might it be a magic lore or prosperity for me? / It was given by someone, lost, and found again; I do not understand."

Thus unable to ascertain the meaning of the dream's nature, I arose, / performed my morning duties, and then, accompanied by Bhānuvega,

climbed to the picture-gallery on the upper floor of the palace / and sat upon a balcony with a pavement of gems and jewels.

Then I related to Bhānuvega that dream seen at dawn; / but he too was unable to determine the true meaning of the dream.

While we remained in that place for a moment, / our minds tossed about with doubts and conjectures regarding the dream's fruit,

Just then, all the townspeople, clad in splendid attire / and their bodies adorned with costly ornaments, set out to go somewhere.

Seeing them, I said: "Where are these people, young and old, / proceeding in all their finery? Tell me, Bhānuvega!"

And he said: "Listen, noble friend, today is the thirteenth day of Madana; / therefore, people go to the festival of Madana stationed in the Makaranda garden.

This crowd of men and women is going with joy to worship him; / let us also go and watch the festival of the Flower-Arrowed One."

Then I said, "Let it be so"; and both of us set out, / having adorned ourselves, and in due course reached the garden,

Where the assembly of trees, delighted at the spring festival of Madana, / seemed to sing a carcarī song with the sound of jingling anklets of playing amorous women;

Where the trees, shaking violently with branches stirred by the Malaya breeze, / had inarticulate murmurs in the form of the sweet clamour made by cuckoos;

Where the trees, with their red tips of slightly reddish fresh sprouts, / seemed to be intoxicated having tasted the honey-month [of spring];

Where they, having crests fashioned from masses of wide-open blooming blossom clusters, / seemed to pay homage to the multitude of people with branches bowed down by the wind.

In that excellent garden called Makaranda, / adorned with dense, noble trees, delightful, exciting desire by its mere sight,

As we entered, surrounded by the citizens dressed in various costumes, / we saw from afar the temple of the god Madana,

Crowded with many people for the sole purpose of worshipping Madana along with Rati, / full of grace, lofty, with high ramparts;

Where excellent mardala drums were loudly and excessively beaten, and circles were formed by groups of wanton, charming women; / where passionate lovers were enticed by the sound of carcarī songs, and numerous dwarfs danced to the rhythm of small drums;

Where banana pavilions were occupied by men embracing their beloveds, and which was made lovely by young townswomen mounted on swings; / where water sports were commenced by courtesans and gallants, creating an abundance of mud from the splashing water.

Entering inside it and beholding Madana together with Rati, / both of us came out and sat on the outer railing.

O prince, while I sat there for a moment, / watching the townspeople amusing themselves with various games,

Just then, swinging on a nearby tree in the midst of her female companions, / a maiden of unprecedented beauty, in the bloom of fresh youth, was seen [by me]:

Adorned with rows of necklaces bouncing upon her plump, high, and dense breasts, / having the complexion of heated gold, her cheeks decorated with jewelled earrings.

She was fashioned by the creator as if out of nectar, bringing delight to the eyes of all the world, / gladdening the hearts of people merely by her sight.

Seeing her, I thought: "Ah, who is this possessing such captivating beauty? / Has a Nāga maiden descended here, or is she the goddess of the forest?

Or has a goddess fallen from the heavenly world, / or could she be Ratī, separated from Madana, who has assumed a bodily form?"

As I deliberated thus, looking at her with unblinking eyes, / she too gazed at me with an affectionate sidelong glance.

And Bhānuvega was asked: "Who is she, or whose wife is she?" / Then, smiling slightly, Bhānuvega said:

"No good will come of talk about her, let us rise and leave for now, / for she is looking directly at you with sidelong, crooked glances.

The glance of such women, falling upon the limbs, / makes the body unwell, and will certainly steal away the heart."

Then I said: "You are fond of joking; we / merely ask out of curiosity, but you imagine something else."

Then Bhānuvega said: "In this city there is a Vidyādhara of widespread fame, / named Amitagati, and his wife is Citramālā.

They have one daughter born to them, endowed with matchless virtues, / a maiden named Kanakamālā, full of discernment."

Then I said: "Who is this woman worshipping Madana? / And who is this other one, narrating an affair before her female friend?

And who is this young man clinging to the neck of a courtesan?" / Asked about these and other things by me, he laughed and said this:

"Why do you deceive me with such questions, noble youth? / Who is able to screen an old cat with sour gruel?

Indeed, noble youth, you cannot hide your first inquiry with such questions! / How, pray, can the dawn be hidden, even with effort, by glow-worms?"

Addressed thus by him, I stood with downcast face out of shame; / seeing that, Bhānuvega stood as if pretending not to notice.

Though turned in another direction by shame at that moment, / nevertheless my gaze fell, as if by force, upon her lotus-like face.

Bound by the cords of love, even on a road crowded with people, / slipping forward slowly, slowly, the gaze clings to where the beloved is.

Surpassing the play of the lightning of a Bhādrapada cloud, / with trembling casts of her glance that she repeatedly concealed from her female companions,

then, my heart having been shattered by the arrows of her tremulous, long-lashed gaze, / all five flower-arrows discharged by Madana penetrated it.

Meanwhile, the throng of her female friends moved off to their own homes; / that young girl too departed, repeatedly looking back at me.

Turning her neck, by the cord of her affectionate sidelong glance, / she drew out my heart secretly and carried it away at once.

As if knowing that my heart was being carried off by her, the anklets / clinging to her feet cried out repeatedly like angry persons.

Afflicted by love, she as she went was watched with unblinking eyes, / until she was hidden from the path of sight by the garden trees.

When she had passed out of sight, an unbearable torment arose / in my mind, together with exceedingly long sighs.

Then Bhānuvega said: "Let us also go to our own house." / When I had said "So be it", both arrived at the house.

Then I mounted to the upper floor and lay down there / upon a bed, and Bhānuvega also sat down beside me.

Then Bhānuvega said: "Why have you become so dejected? / Why do you utter exceedingly long sighs filled with despair?

Why do you contort your limbs, sighing deeply with groans? / Why do you toss about on the bed like a chickpea in a frying pan?

Thinking of what-not, why do you laugh for no reason at all? / And why, under the sway of your own fancies, do you become dejected again?

Acting out, as it were, a drama mingled with various sentiments, / why do you sit silent and not declare any of your true feelings to us?"

And when questioned repeatedly by him thus, prince, I said: / "I do not know, but why has my body become severely unwell?"

Laughing, he said: "I already told you before / that the sight of such women does not lead to good.

Therefore, through the fault of her eyes, all this torment of yours has arisen; / let a hand be passed over your back, so that ease may come."

Sighing, I said: "There is even doubt regarding our very life; / but you, a happy brother, why do you not make fun of me?"

Then Bhānuvega said: "When a man is devoid of candour / and his true nature is not known, what can we do?"

Then I spoke: "It should be told to one who does not know; / but you, even though knowing it, ask me falsely!"

As we were engaged in speaking such long strings of words, / the house-maid Cūtalatā came up and said this:

"There stands at the doorway, having come for the sake of seeing you, / the noble nurse of Kanakamālā, named Somalatā."

Then Bhānuvega said: "Bring her in quickly." When this was said, / that very Somalatā came into our presence.

Having paid her respects, she sat down and said with deference: / "Make it private." Thereupon Cūtalatā was sent away from there.

Somalatā said: "Since noble men are affectionate to those seeking refuge, / save me, save me from a dreadful calamity!"

With a heart filled with joy, I spoke in this manner: / "From where, good lady, is the calamity?" She said: "From the Flower-arrowed One!"

Smiling slightly, Bhānuvega then spoke: / "Your body has all its joints cracking and its loveliness gone;

its row of teeth is lost, its head shines laughing with white hair, / and it is repulsive with breasts having far-dangling folds of skin.

Seeing you, the Bodiless One flees far, far away in terror; / from where, then, can there be fear for you, whose body is shattered by old age?"

Somalatā said: "Do not mock me; listen to the story / of how my fear has been caused indirectly by the Flower-arrowed One.

Having played in the garden, Kanakamālā returned to her own house, / the radiance of her face faded, like the crescent moon seized by a cloud.

Then I asked: 'Why, daughter, are you distracted and dejected?' / But she disclosed nothing, and merely sighed deeply.

Her eyes were filled with tears, her face miserable.
Then I questioned her friend named Haṁsikā.

She said: “Mother, today we reached the garden;
we worshipped Madana, and just as we were walking out, he was seen:

sitting beside Bhānuvega, his mind distracted by curiosity,
a noble youth, like the Bodiless One in visible form.

Seeing him, her eyes suddenly became motionless;
she was fixed on his face, motionless as if depicted in a painting.

She looked at that youth with an unblinking gaze all over his body,
but he, his mind distracted by curiosity, did not see her.

Then, failing to come within range of his eyes, her lotus-face full of shame,
as if considering herself disgraced by misfortune,

thinking of something, she said: ‘Friends, having fastened a swing
to this mango tree, let us play for a moment!’

When they agreed and it was arranged, she too
called out to her friends in a loud voice, though they were close at hand,

tossed by the hope:
‘If he hears my voice and looks toward me, then I shall have achieved my desire!’

Seeing that, I said in jest:
‘Why do you call so very loudly to your friends who are right near you?’

His mind distracted by curiosity, he gave you no reply;
hearing that remark, she became somewhat embarrassed.

Meanwhile, that youth of Bodiless One-like beauty looked upon her;
by his sudden glances, she attained an unprecedented rapture.

As soon as he looked at her, considering herself endowed with good fortune
and her life fulfilled, her body thrilled with horripilation.

She embraces her friends, speaks loudly, laughs without cause,
scratches the ground with her big toe, and arranges her hair.

Behaving with such manifestations, having sported for a moment,
her limbs distressed by the arrows of Madana, she returned here and became like this.”

And when Haṁsikā spoke thus, I questioned her again:
‘Who is that man, Haṁsikā?’ She told me everything.

Thinking: ‘My daughter’s passion has fallen on a worthy person,’ I went to her side,
and I saw Kanakamālā lying on her bed,

her lotus-face pale, her body withered by deep sighs,
holding on to her life only with great difficulty and distress.

Tormented by rows of flame from the fire of separation from her beloved, to the fair girl
her necklace and sandal-paste seem like glowing coals.

Lotus-stalks appear like firewood, lotus leaves like nets of flame,
and even a feather mattress seems like a heap of burning charcoal.

Questioned, she gives no answer; she does not converse even with affectionate companions;
she has become motionless like an eminent yoginī engaged in meditation.

Seized by the demon of separation from her beloved, unconscious, O handsome one,
let the fair girl be revived by her friends with the mantras of your name!

Knowing that she is tormented by separation from her beloved and her life is breaking,
pained by her distress, I have come into your presence.

Thus, from the flower-arrowed one, a very grave disaster has come upon me,
because she being distressed, I too am exceedingly distressed.

Therefore, O handsome youth, let Kanakamālā, whose body is withered by sighs,
that fair girl, be revived before her breaths come to an end!

Quickly devise some means before her life departs;
once life is gone, what will be achieved by the nectar of love?”

Hearing her words, then, O prince, I said:
“We do not even know this: who is this Kanakamālā?

So ask Bhānuvega, who grasps the true facts of the matter in question;
we, however, are guests and ignorant of the situation here.”

Then Bhānuvega said: “We too know nothing at all.”
Then Somalatā spoke these words indignantly:

“Having stolen her heart, striking her limbs with arrows of glances,
and bringing her life to the breaking point, now you pretend ignorance!

Her life is in her throat; she is dying in separation from you, there is no doubt;
yet you adopt feigned ignorance and stand there heartless, noble sir!

And furthermore: