[Pramāṇa](https://indike.org/pramana/) › [Studies](https://indike.org/pramana/ins) › [Polity, law and society](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity) › [Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915) › v2.c11 # Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c11: X. Love Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c11 - **Language:** English ## Contents - [v2.c11.14](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.14) — 4 parts - [v2.c11.18](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.18) — 4 parts - [v2.c11.101](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.101) — 4 parts - [v2.c11.150](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.150) — 3 parts ### X. Love ### [v2.c11.1](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.1) IN the artificial poetry, and the text-books of poetry and those of love, as oftentimes elsewhere, the hetæra is sung of as queen in the land of love. In spite of her unmistakable importance for Indian eroticism of the Epic world, however, it would be wrong to give her such a place here, too. She is there simply an article of necessity. And if Indian literature along with those fairly numerous songs of praise for the “circulating beauties” is filled with the most splendid love stories and descriptions of the passion of sex—the glowingly sensual and the sweetly tender—the Epic in particular yields a very great number of pleasing flowers of this same kind. And these flowers have also a charm which is at least somewhat rare, in that they do not wither and die on some wild heath, but go on blooming in the garden of wedlock, and in it first reveal the full depths of their glowing colours, and their innermost, strongest perfumes. Who does not know Damayantī and Sāvitrī! And Kālidāsa’s Çakuntalā, however much she has won under the loving care of this favoured one of the god, comes originally likewise from the primeval forest of the Mahābhārata. Further examples of the mighty love of woman will be discussed in the chapter on the Wife. A long list of gods, holy men, and kings who loved their wives, and led a life of joy with them is found in v, 197.8 ff. For the Epic, too, the union between husband and wife is a picture of the tenderest human union (e.g. xii, 319.10). See, too, especially xii, 301.37-39 (the separation between man and wife is one of the most dreadful things). ### [v2.c11.2](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.2) The woman in Old India, as throughout the world, has far greater gifts for love than the man, that is, taking love in its nobler meaning, for that feeling which fills the whole being, is steadfast and faithful, grows ever deeper, and is strongly mingled with altruistic elements.¹ But that the man, too, in the Epic is capable of a like feeling and of much romantic love is over and over again to be seen. ### [v2.c11.3](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.3) ¹ The author of the Kumārasambhava has rightly seen that men have greater gifts for real friendship : “ The love of men, which towards beloved women is unsteadfast, towards friends never wavers ” (iv, 29). ### [v2.c11.4](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.4) Romance such as this lies already before us in the earlier mentioned tale of Satyavatī, the fisherman's daughter, and King Çāntanu. For forty years he shuns women and women's love (ratim aprāpnuvan strīshu), after his dearly loved wife Gaṅgā has vanished from his eyes, and when he then finds the gloriously beautiful, wondrous-scented fisher's maid and ferry-girl, his passion for her blazes up so fiercely that he at once woos her, and becomes quite ill and wretched because it seems as though he cannot get her (i, 100.20 ff.). Still finer rings the tale of Tapatī and Saṃvaraṇa (i, 171.6 ff.). ### [v2.c11.5](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.5) “ He that up in the sky fills the air with brightness by his disk, the sun god, had a daughter by name Tapatī of equal rank with himself, the younger sister of Sāvatrī, renowned in the three worlds, beaming, glowing. No goddess, no Asura woman, no Yaksha or Rākshasa woman, no Apsaras, no Gandharva maid was so fair. Of the right measure and proportions, and faultless were the limbs of the peerless one, deep-black and big her eyes, good were her ways and her heart, fair to the eye her raiment. There was none here in the three worlds that the awaker of life deemed worthy as a husband for her, in beauty, character, gifts, and renown. When now she had reached the bloom of youth,² and he saw that he must marry this daughter away, he could find no rest through anxious thought of how to bestow her. Now at that time the son of Riksha, he the strong bull of the Kurus, King Saṃvaraṇa, sought to win the graces of the sun god. Filled with loving devotion, he worshipped the rising wealth of beams with guest-gifts (arghya), wreaths and offerings, and so forth, and with sweet perfumes, his mind well held in check, pure, with vows and fasting and manifold penances, obedient, free from the pride ### [v2.c11.6](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.6) ² According to K, i, 187.11 she was then 16 years old. Fifteen or sixteen was evidently also the age of Draupadī at her marriage (cp. xv, 1.6; 25.9; 29.38). ### [v2.c11.7](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.7) of the self, cleansed. Then the sun god deemed the grateful Saṃvaraṇa, learned in the law, with no peer on earth in beauty, a husband worthy of Tapaī. Now he willed to give this maid as wife to Saṃvaraṇa, best of the shepherds of earth, the man of renowned noble blood. For as, in the sky, the beaming one casts brightness abroad through his fiery glow, so on earth was Saṃvaraṇa full of light.¹ And as the knowers of the holy knowledge worship the rising sun, so did those among creatures that were younger brothers of the Brahmans² worship Saṃvaraṇa. The prince for his friends outdid the moon in sweetness, and for his foes outdid the sun in fiery strength.³ Since the lord of the earth had such gifts and his way of life was thus, so he of the glowing light resolved of himself to give him ‘the shining one’ (Tapaī). One day the glorious, boundlessly brave king was roving, as he hunted, through the mountain forest.⁴ While the king was busied hunting, his incomparable steed died in the mountains, overcome with hunger and thirst. Robbed of his horse by death, the prince was wandering afoot in the mountains, and then he saw a great-eyed maiden, without her like in the world. When the destroyer of the foeman’s army, the lonely one, met the lonely maid, he, the tiger among commanders of men, stood there, gazing with unmoving eyes. For the ruler of men held her to be Lakshmī for her loveliness, and then again he held her to be the shining bright one of the daystar come down thither, like unto the sun’s glowing beam in her wondrous splendour and dazzling light, like unto the moon’s sickle in her friendliness and sweet softness. For on the mountain-ridge where she stood she shone and gleamed like a golden statue. Through her beauty and her garb, because of her extraordinary splendour, that mountain with its trees, bushes, and creepers was turned as though into gold.¹ When the king had seen her, he despised the women in all the worlds, and believed that now only he had found profit of his eyes. All the loveliness that he had seen since his birth he deemed as below hers in rank. His heart and eye were fettered by her with the bonds made by her charms, and so he did not stir from that spot, and knew of nought. ‘Of a surety the Maker has whirled the whole world into being with gods, spirits, and mankind, and so brought the fair shape of this great-eyed one to life.’ So then King Saṃvaraṇa held the maid, for the perfection of the treasures of her beauty, to be without compare in the world. And so soon as the man of glorious nobility of birth had seen the glorious one, he fell in his soul into anguished care, tortured by the arrow of the god of love. Burning with the hot fever of passion, the undismayed one to her dismayed, to the heart-entangler, said: ‘Who art thou, and whose, thou lovely one with thighs like banana-stems, and wherefore art thou found here? And how comes it that thou roamest alone in the forest empty of mankind, thou of the bright smile? For thou art in every limb without a fault; and decked with every ornament, thou art as the beauty itself that is sought in these ornaments. I hold thee to be no goddess and no Asura woman, no Yaksha nor Rākshasa maid, for no snake fay, no Gandharva woman, and no human beauty.² For whatever glorious women I may have seen or heard of, thou, to my mind, art like none of them, thou mazed allurer. Thou of the lovely countenance, so soon only as I set sight on thy face with its lotus-leaf eyes, which is more ### [v2.c11.8](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.8) ¹ Or: through his light. ### [v2.c11.9](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.9) ² That is, all the subjects (so it could be also translated) who were less than the Brahmans; for the king, too, is bound and is wishful to worship these latter. ### [v2.c11.10](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.10) ³ Although the prefix is often found, in the Epic also, separated from the verb, yet probably ati is hardly to be thus taken. Ati and lese often atīva in the MBh. is used like a kind of uninflected adjective (of course with an accus. depending on it) both predicatively and attributively, and in the meaning of “standing above, excelling”. See, for instance, i, 102.32; 103.2, 110.1; 124.18, 132.62; 170.28; 171.19; ii, 11.16; iii, 36.19; 163.19; 173.32; 207.99; v, 167.3; vi, 44.13; vii, 100.5; 188.43; xii, 12.6; 134.6; i, 155.34; iv, 64.32; 68.16; xiii, 33.10. ### [v2.c11.11](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.11) ⁴ Parvatopavana. ### [v2.c11.12](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.12) ¹ Cp. Spenser, \*Faerie Queene\*, canto iii, stanza 4; Swinburne, “Tristram of Lyonesse,” canto vi (\*Poems\* \[1904\], vol. iv, p. 90); Eilhart von Oberge, \*Tristan\*, ed. Lichtenstein, 6512 ff.; Lewis Truman Mott, \*System of Courtly Love\*, p. 124; Arnold in \*Zeitschr. d. Ver. f. Volksk.\*, vol. 12, p. 166 f. ### [v2.c11.13](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.13) ² Less likely: for now I set no value on (I despise) goddess, etc. ### [v2.c11.14.1](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.14.1) ravishing than the moon, the stirrer of the heart stirred up, as it were, my whole heart.’ Thus did the warden of the earth speak unto her, but she answered not a word to him that was tormented by love in the lonely forest. While the prince was thus confused by speaking, the great-eyed one disappeared where she stood,¹ like the lightning in the cloud. Seeking her, her with the lotus-leaf eyes, the commander of men now ran all over the forest, wandering about like a madman. But when he found her not, the first among princes raised much lament there, and stood a moment without stirring. When she now was no longer to be seen, the smiter of the foeman’s hosts, the love-stupefied ruler of men, fell down to earth. When he was lying on the ground, then the sweet-smiling fair one with the swelling, long hips, showed herself once again to the prince. Then the glorious one spoke with sweet voice to the herdsman of the earth, the heir of the Kurus, whose soul was smitten by love ; with a light laugh Tapati spoke the sweet words : ‘ Rise, rise, I beg ! Thou tamer of foemen, tiger among princes, that standest before all eyes on earth, thou must not come to be thus overcome in bewilderment.’ Thus addressed with sweet speech, the ruler of the earth now saw the wide-hipped one standing before him. ### [v2.c11.14.2](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.14.2) Then spoke the king to her of the black eyes, his soul ringed by the fire of love, with a voice that uttered only confused sounds : ‘ Come, thou black-eyed one, thou mazed allurer, love me that love thee and am tortured with yearning ; for the spirits of life are leaving me. Because of thee, thou great-eyed one, who shinest like the cup of the lotus-flower, the god of love is ever piercing me with sharp arrows. Therefore, thou of the lovely face, that hast swelling, long hips, take me to thee ; for in helpless plight I am being entwined² by the mighty snake of desire. For on thee my life depends, O thou whose words sound sweet as the song of the Kinnaras, thou, free from fault in every limb, woman with countenance like unto the lotus-flower and the moon. For without thee, O shy one, I cannot go on living. The god of love is wounding me here, lotus-faced one ; therefore take pity on me, thou woman with the all-powerful eyes. Black-eyed one, thou shalt not repulse me, who am thy servant in love, for, glorious one, thou shalt save me through a union in joy. My heart, where love has been awakened through the sight of thee, is deep shaken; now that I have seen thee I have no wish left to see another, thou noble one. Grant me thy favour, I am in thy hands, love me the lover, thou glorious one. For since I have seen thee, thou fair-hipped woman, the stirrer of hearts, O big-eyed one, is piercing me sorely within with his arrows. ### [v2.c11.14.3](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.14.3) The fire that has been kindled by love, O lotus-eye, slake it for me with the life-giving water that comes with the union in joy. Thou kindly, thou glorious one, bring the god with the flowery dart, him so hard to overcome, armed with cruel arrow and bow, that has awakened at the sight of thee, and is drawing on me with arrows beyond bearing, bring him to rest by giving thyself to me. Come unto me after the wise of the Gandharva wedlock, thou all-excelling woman; for among marriages, O banana-thighed one, the Gandharva marriage is held for the highest.' Tapati spoke: 'I am not mistress of myself, O king, for I am a maiden that has a father. Dost thou harbour liking and love for me, then ask of my father. For as thy life-spirits have been taken and held by me, so by the very sight of thee have my life-spirits been borne headlong¹ away by thee. I am not now mistress of my person; therefore, O best of princes, I go not to thee; for women are not free. For what maiden in all the worlds must not wish for herself the renowned prince of the nobility as shield and tender-loving husband? Therefore, as things are thus, do thou ask of my father, the sun god, through humble showing of honour, through penance, and a vow of mortification. If he will give me to thee, O slayer of foes, then will I ever live, O king, after thy wishes. ### [v2.c11.14.4](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.14.4) I am, indeed, Tapati, the younger sister of Sāvitrī, I am the daughter of that light of the world, of the awaker of life, O warrior-bull.' After these words the faultless one swiftly rose in the air, while the king fell down on the ground again where he stood. ### [v2.c11.15](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.15) ¹ Literally : just there, then and there. ### [v2.c11.16](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.16) ² Literally : bitten. ### [v2.c11.17](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.17) ¹ Or: so and still more (liter.: more so, so still more). ### [v2.c11.18.1](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.18.1) The minister who was seeking for the king, the best of princes, with an army, then¹ along with his following saw him fallen to the ground in the great forest, like the raised banner of Indra.² When the king’s comrade saw the great bowman lying thus on the ground like an outcast, he was kindled as though with a fire, and he hurried towards him, seized by a tumult of distress owing to his tender affection, and put the prince, overcome with love, the lord of earthly rulers, on his feet, like a father his son that has fallen. When the minister, who was old in understanding, years of life, renown, and state wisdom, had set him up, the feverish pain left him. And he spoke to him that was raised with loving, sweet words : ‘ Fear not, O tiger of men; hail to thee, thou good man !’ He believed that the prince, exhausted from hunger and thirst, he the destruction of the foe in the fight, had fallen to the ground. With very cool, lotus-scented water he sprinkled the king’s head, tearing off his diadem.¹ Thereupon the life-spirits came back to the herdsman of men, and the mighty one dismissed his army, except this one counsellor. Then at the king’s command the great army withdrew; the king sat himself down again on that plateau. Then in those lordly mountains he stood there on earth, having acquired ritual purity, his hands folded before his forehead, and his face lifted upwards, to bring the sun god’s favour on himself. ### [v2.c11.18.2](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.18.2) And in his mind, Saṃvaraṇa, the king, fled to Vasiṣṭha, best of the Ṛiṣis, his foe-destroying house-priest.² As now the herdsman of men was standing at one spot day and night, the Brahmanic Ṛiṣi came to him on the twelfth day. Since the great seer with the pure soul already knew that the commander of men had been carried away by Tapaī, and had come to know this in super-mundane wise, the best of the Munis, he filled with virtue, addressed the prince that was thus fast harnessed and bridled in his thoughts, in his yearning to carry out his business. Before the eyes of the ruler of men the sublime Ṛiṣi was wafted up towards heaven, he that was gifted with the sun’s brightness, to pay his court to the sun god. Then the Brahman, laying his folded hands on his forehead, came before the thousand-beamed one, and announced himself, filled with joyful love, saying: ‘I am Vasiṣṭha.’ To the best of Munis said the light-spreader: ‘Great Ṛiṣi, welcome to thee! Speak thy wish. Whatever thou wishest from me, this thy desire, I will grant thee, even though it were hard to carry out.’ Thus addressed by him, the seer Vasisṭha answered the light-spreader, the abounding in beams, falling down, he the mighty one in penance, before him: ‘It is thy daughter, Tapatī by name, the younger sister of Sāvitrī, that I woo from thee for Saṃvaraṇa, O thou filled with brightness. For this king has high renown, knows the religious and the worldly duties, and has a noble mind; ### [v2.c11.18.3](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.18.3) Saṃvaraṇa is a fitting husband for thy daughter, O wanderer through the air.’ Thus bespoken by him, the maker of day resolved: ‘I will give her,’ and answered the Brahman with joyful consent: ‘Saṃvaraṇa is first among princes, and thou, O Muni, art first among Rishis, Tapatī is above all women. What else could there be, then, but to make grant of her!’ Thereupon the shining one himself handed over the shining one (Tapatī), her without fault in any limb, to the high-souled Vasisṭha for Saṃvaraṇa. Then did the great Rishi take over the maid Tapatī, and, dismissed (by the sun god), Vasisṭha now came back again to where that Kuru bull known to fame, the king filled with love’s unrest, was waiting, and in mind was by her side only. And when he saw the maiden of the gods, the sweet-laughing Tapatī coming to him with Vasisṭha, he was lit up with overflowing joy. She of the lovely brows shone exceeding bright as she was wafted down from the sky, lighting up the quarters of the world with flashes like a falling flash of lightning. When scarcely twelve days had gone by, Vasisṭha, the august Rishi with the pure soul, came to the king.¹ After Saṃvaraṇa had brought the god that grants wishes, the prince of the beams, the lord, to be favourable to him, he won his wife only through the majesty of Vasisṭha. Then did the bull among men take hold of the hand of Tapatī in lawful wise on that prince of mountains, the resort of gods and Gandharvas. ### [v2.c11.18.4](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.18.4) With Vasisṭha’s leave the kingly Rishi was minded to take his pleasure with his wife on this same mountain. Then the herdsmen of the earth left that minister (as his representative) in the city and the kingdom, in the forests and the groves. ### [v2.c11.19](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.19) ¹ Kāle “at the time, then, now” is often found in the Epic. So, e.g., i, 25.3; 49.3; 167.14; v, 91.16; 94.20; vi, 120.66; xii, 31.6; xiii, 167.25, 29; Rām., iii, 16.15; iv, 20.8; 22.20; v, 27.9. ### [v2.c11.20](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.20) ² The favourite festival of Indra or Indra’s banner is often mentioned in the Epic. A very good description is given in a Jain tale which I have translated in my \*Hindu Tales\* (pp. 142-3); and MBh., i, 63.17 ff. describes how King Uparicara founded this joyous festival and first held it. The standard was set up seven days before the full moon of the month Āçvina (Sept.–Oct.), waved day after day in all its glory and then on that day of the full moon was thrown down on the ground. Before this it had been held up by cords. K, i, 64, has interesting details, wanting in B. Because of its beautiful colours and richness and its sudden fall to earth it is in constant use as a comparison in the Epic. See i, 163.18, 19; 70.14; 173.1, 2; ii, 77.9; v, 59.15; vi, 119.91; vii, 15.29; 49.12; 87.6; 92.66; 94.69, 70; ix, 17.53; Rām., iii, 34.3; iv, 16.36, 37, 39; 17.2; iv, 34.3; vi, 45.17. By MBh., i, 63.20, I am brought back to my suggestion in \*Hindu Tales\*, p. 143, n. 3, that doya denotes a wooden utensil, perhaps in particular a wooden box or basket (piṭaka). On the raising and lowering of the Indradhvaja see also Yājñav., i, 147; Agnipur., 121.65 f.; but above all Bṛhatsaṃhitā, chap. 43, and Meyer, \*Altind. Rechtsschr.\*, 385 f. (note). Yantra in MBh., vii, 94.70, however, does not mean “lever”. The meaning of piṭaka is not made clear by Bṛhats., 43.8, 41, 50, 57, 61, 64, 41-50. The Karm festival among the Urau is probably akin. \*Zeitschr. f. Ethnol.\*, Bd. 6, p. 346 (after Dalton). Both, anyhow, are fertility festivals, are the well-known May-tree festivals (with them cp. Tod, \*Rājasthan\*, ii, 217). See also Wright, \*Hist. of Nepal\*, pp. 38, 41. ### [v2.c11.21](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.21) ¹ I read asphuṭan (instead of asphuṭan) and take it as transitive. Intransitive verbs are often used in the Epic as transitive (causative). See, e.g., i, 92.7; 139.26; 153.29; iii, 40.19; 192.54; iv, 1.25; v, 75.12; vii, 79.31; xii, 242.23; 269.45, 68; 287.11; xiii, 164.2; Rām., iv, 66.7; vi, 114.28. K (189.10) has the straightforward reading aspṛiṣan : without touching (wetting) (the king’s diadem). Ākarshan would likewise be clear. Nil. says: “With the other reading the meaning is clear.” But he does not say which. His interpretation does not agree with mine. ### [v2.c11.22](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.22) ² In the Epic also it is one of the main tasks of the Purohita of a prince to bring hurt on the prince’s foes by witchcraft. ### [v2.c11.23](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.23) ¹ Or samāhite taken substantively: when the king (rājñaḥ) had firmly concentrated his thoughts? The version given in the text is perhaps better for the reason that the tale in its present, not very old form is meant to set before our eyes the greatness of the Brahmans. ### [v2.c11.24](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.24) Vasistha then took his leave of the prince, and went away. The king now took his delight on that mountain, like an immortal. For twelve years did the king find his pleasure in this wise together with his wife in groves and forests on that mountain. In this king's city and in his kingdom he with the thousand eyes (Indra) did not rain in all the twelve long years. Then when this drought came all creatures fell to destruction, those that move not and those that move. While this very dreadful time thus prevailed, no dew came down on the earth, and therefore the seeds grew not. Then did mankind with minds bewildered, tormented by hunger and dread, leave their houses and wander forth to every quarter of the heavens. Then in this city and this kingdom folk gave up wife and possessions, and slew one another, released from law and order, tortured with hunger. So did this city with its hungry, foodless people, turned to (living) corpses, seem like the city of the king of the dead, filled with the dead.¹ When the holy Rishi Vasistha saw what was happening, he with the soul of virtue, the best of the Munis came thither.¹ And he had the tiger among princes, who had been away together with Tapaī far off for endless years,² brought home to this city. Then the slayer of the foes of the gods rained there as before. So soon as this tiger among princes had come into the city once more, the mighty one of the thousand eyes made rain to fall and so the crops to grow. Then did that city and the kingdom rejoice with joy beyond compare, raised up by this the foremost one of earthly rulers, by him that was lofty in soul. Then did the high herdsman of men, with his wife, make sacrifice for twelve years in return, as Indra with Çacī. Thus was the excelling one, Tapaī by name, the sun god's daughter, thy forbear,³ O Arjuna, because of whom I declare thee for a child of Tapaī. By her King Saṃvaraṇa begot Kuru.” ### [v2.c11.25](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.25) ¹ This drought and its dreadful consequences came about because there was no king in the land. As elsewhere in the East, the prince according to Indian literature and particularly the MBh. is the source and origin of all that happens in his kingdom; he is a blessing or a disaster for his land, equal to all the gods, destiny, the ladder to heaven or to hell; he makes the sun to shine, the fire to burn, rules as the god of wind and of the sea, is Çiva and Vishnu; he makes the four ages of the world, all power is set in him—and that by the Brahmans, and so forth ad infinitum. This flower of princely apotheosis had its roots, indeed, in the ground of reality. The king in Old India often made his subjects' lives very uncomfortable, and he was often of most benefit when he—slept (Cardonne, Mélanges de lit. orient., 1788, i, 17, and the precious remarks of Hopkins, India Old and New, p. 234. Now above all the king makes it to rain, and this not only through his fitness as a ruler, but through his magical presence itself; where there is no king the fruitful moisture does not fall. But the king also brings the curse of drought on his land if he is evil, while under the good king the gift of rain in right measure is poured on the kingdom, which is the beginning and end of all for India, the land of agriculture. On this subject see my note on p. 344 of the Daçakum., and with it cp. Manu, ix, 246, 247; Tawney, Prabandhacintāmaṇi, 70; Vikramorv., iv, between str. 3 and 4; Jātaka, i, p. 94; v, 193; Rückert's ### [v2.c11.26](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.26) ² That is, of course : an endlessly long time. ### [v2.c11.27](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.27) ³ It is to him that the tale, told by a Gandharva, is addressed. ### [v2.c11.28](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.28) poem : “Der Fürst ritt auf die Jagd” in his \*Weisheit des Brahmanen\*; Bulloram Mullick, \*Home Life in Bengal\*, p. 24 f.; Temple, \*Legends of the Panjab\*, i, 264; Ward, \*View of the Hindoos\*⁵, 273; Divyāvad., p. 435 (cp. Jāt. Nos. 334, 520); Cardonne, \*Mélanges\*, p. 89 ff.; Crooke, \*North-Western Provinces of India\*, p. 170; etc. From the MBh. some of the passages are : i, 64.15, 16; 68, especially 10; 105.44; 109.¹ ff.; ii, 13.14 ff.; 33.1 ff.; 38.27-29; iii, 185; 207.28 ff.; iv, 28.15 ff.; 132.15 ff.; v, 147.25 ff.; xii, 29.51 ff.; 69.75 ff.; 91.9; 141.9, 10; 223.5 ff.; xiii, 62.43 f. The Old Indian king, too, does not know better : In the kingdom of the Kalingas there is a heavy drought; everything is ruined. The people make complaint to the ruler, who then says : “I will make the god rain,” and gives himself up to good works. But as this is no good, King Vessantara’s state-elephant is asked for; where it comes, there it rains (Jāt., vi, p. 487).—To tat we can add puram. Or the liter. transl. might be : Hence it became (or : It became) in this way like the city filled with ghosts, etc. ### [v2.c11.29](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.29) ¹ Read abhyavartata instead of abhavarshata. In itself the text, indeed, might be quite right as a senseless insertion for glorifying the Brahmans. But if we are not to reject the whole çloka, which indeed is not altogether unsuspect, then this amendment offers itself quite naturally, and is moreover supported by K, where abhyadravata is found. ### [v2.c11.30](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.30) Still more splendidly than here does the man's love for his chosen one shine in the legend of Ruru (i, 8.5 ff.) : "There was once a great Ṛishi, endowed with asceticism and knowledge, famed under the name of Sthūlakeça, gladly given up to the welfare of all beings. Now at this very time the king of the Gandharvas, named Viçvāvasu, begot offspring with Menakā. The Apsaras Menakā exposed this child near by the hermitage of Sthūlakeça, when her time had come. And having left the child on the river-bank, she went away, she the Apsaras Menakā, ruthless and without shame. This girl like a child of the gods, blazing, as it were, with the splendor of beauty, that was exposed on the river-bank, and in the unpeopled wilderness bereft of her kindred, was seen by the great Ṛishi, the majestic Sthūlakeça. Now when the great Brahman Sthūlakeça had seen this maiden, the best among Munis, filled with pity, took her and brought her up. And she with the lovely hips grew up in his holy and glorious hermitage. The religious rites—the birth ceremony, and so forth—were carried out over her by the very great Ṛishi Sthūlakeça, the famous one, according to precept and in order. But she was the most excellent of women (pramadābhyo varā), gifted with loveliness of character and form, wherefore the great and holy man gave her the name Pramadvarā. This Pramadvarā was seen in the penitential grove by (the scion of Bhr̥igu) Ruru, and he with the soul of right and virtue was at once struck down by love. Through his friends he then sent word of it to his father, the Bhr̥igu scion Pramati, and the father asked for her hand from the high and glorious Sthūlakeça. Thereupon her father gave the maiden Pramadvarā to Ruru, fixing the wedding beforehand for the time of the constellation that has Bhaga for god.¹ A few days later, when the wedding was just nigh, this lovely-faced maiden was playing with her girl-friends, and did not see a snake fast asleep and stretched right across (the path). She trod with her foot on the beast, since she was doomed to death and driven on by fate. The snake, goaded on by the god of death, struck with its poison-smeared fangs deep into the heedless girl’s body. Bitten by this snake, she fell suddenly to the ground, robbed of all colour and of her splendour, as her charms and consciousness fled from her. Taking all joy from her kindred, her hair unbound, abandoned by life—so was she, that was most worthy of beholding, taken from their sight.¹ And it was as though she, slain by the snake’s poison, had gone to sleep on the ground; the slender one was far more fascinating still to the heart. And her father and the other penitents saw her in her lotus-like glory fall quivering on the ground. Then came all the excellent Brahmans, filled with pity : Svastyātreya, Mahājanu, Kuçika, Caṅkhamekhala, Uddālaka, and Kaṭha, and Çveta, the greatly renowned, Bharadvāja, Kauṇakutsya, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa; then Gautama, Pramati with his son, as also other forest-dwellers. When they saw the lifeless maiden, slain by the poison of the snake, they wept for the pity that was in them; but Ruru went forth tormented by suffering. And all those excellent Brahmans sat themselves down at that very spot. ### [v2.c11.31](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.31) ¹ Uttaraphalgunī is meant. This is a lucky time for weddings often mentioned in the Epic also. Bhagadaivata also means "giving happiness in marriage" (e.g. iii, 233.8; 234.12). ### [v2.c11.32](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.32) ¹ aprekṣaṇīyā. Lit. not visible, that is, gone over into the other world, dead. ### [v2.c11.33](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.33) While those lofty-minded Brahmans were sitting there, Ruru went into the depths of the forest, and wailed aloud, filled with the greatest sorrow. Sore wounded, he poured out his woe in manifold heart-moving ways, and in his pain and in his memory of the beloved Pramadvarā he spoke the words : ‘ She is lying on the ground, the slender one, that makes my cares to grow, and those of all her kindred. What unhappiness could be greater ! If I have given charitable gifts, if I have practised asceticism, if I have won the goodwill of worshipful men, then my beloved one shall thereby come to life again. And as surely as from my birth I have held myself in check, and kept a pious troth towards the law, so surely shall Pramadvarā here, the shining one, arise again.’ While the sorrowing one in this wise was bitterly bewailing his wife, there came a messenger of the gods and spoke to Ruru in the forest : ‘ It is useless for thee, O Ruru, to be speaking words in thy sorrow; for for the mortal whose life is run there is no life left, O thou with virtuous soul. The life of this poor daughter of the Gandharva and the Apsaras has run out; ### [v2.c11.34](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.34) therefore, my friend, do not give thine heart up at all to sorrow. But there is a remedy for it that has been already laid down by the lofty-minded gods; if thou art willing to make use of it, thou shalt receive Pramadvarā again here on earth.' Ruru spoke: 'What is the remedy laid down by the gods? Speak according to the truth, O wanderer through the air! I will do in accordance with it so soon as I have heard. O do thou save me!' The messenger of the gods spoke: 'Make over, O child of Bhrigu, the half of thy life to the maiden. Thus, O Ruru, will thy wife Pramadvarā rise up again.' Ruru spoke: 'I will make over half my life to the maiden, O best of the air-rangers. Dight with love and beauty,¹ my beloved shall rise again.' Then the king of the Gandharvas and the messenger of the gods,² the two excellent ones, went to the king of righteousness and death and to him spoke these words: 'O king of righteousness, let his wife that is dead arise once again for the half of Ruru'slife, if so thou deemest.'³ The king of righteousness spoke: 'If thou art asking for Pramadvarā, Ruru's wife, O messenger of the gods, then shall she, endowed with the half of Ruru's life, arise again.' So soon as he had thus spoken, the maid Pramadvarā by virtue of the half of Ruru's life arose again, as though she of the lovely face had only slept. For it was this that was written in the future for this Ruru, endowed with surpassing splendour, that from him the half of his life should be cut off on behalf of his wife, when he should be far gone in years.⁴ Then did the parents on the wished for day hold with glad hearts the wedding of the two, and the two lovers took their joy, each wishing all that was best for the other." But thenceforward Ruru was a bitter foe of snakes, as is told in what follows, and to this hatred he also owes his immortalizing in the Mahābhārata.⁵ ### [v2.c11.35](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.35) ¹ Or: in festal garb, beauty, and adornment (çṛṅgārarūpābharaṇa). ### [v2.c11.36](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.36) ² So according to K (9.19) : devadūtaç. The Bomb. ed. has Devadattaç, which then must be the name of the gods' messenger. But it is probably a mistake. ### [v2.c11.37](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.37) ³ Less likely: that is thus dead . . . if thou deemest. ### [v2.c11.38](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.38) ⁴ Or: the half of the much-grown length of life. ### [v2.c11.39](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.39) ⁵ The tale itself is also to be found in a bare shortened form in Kathās. Tar., xiv, 76 ff. Cp. Mārk.-Pur., xxii-xxv; Hemavija's ### [v2.c11.40](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.40) The love romance of the Rākshasī woman Hiḍimbā is also very beautiful, to whom the whole-hearted energy of purpose in following the ways of her heart is more becoming than to many a one among her numerous Eastern sisters skilled in the campaigns of love. And with it all there is a pretty touch of adventurous humour running through this tale of a giant, which reminds us of the giant-tales of Western, especially German, lands. ### [v2.c11.41](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.41) The five Pāṇḍavas had escaped with their mother out of the burning house of resin, and were wandering through the forest. Bhīma the strong had at last carried all the wearied ones away, and was now watching over them as they lay asleep. Then a man-eating monster (Rākshasa), dwelling near by, Hiḍimba by name, climbed a çāla-tree, and looked about him for prey. Black he was as the rain-cloud, red-eyed, with bristling tusks and hanging belly, red stubbly beard and hair, out-standing ears, and a neck and trunk like some mighty tree; huge were his jaws, every feature was hideous and frightful. He scratched his shaggy hair, opened his jaws in a gaping yawn, and kept on looking all round, tormented by hunger and thirst. When he smelt human flesh he was greatly rejoiced, and called to his sister Hiḍimbā: “At last I have now found my much-loved food; my mouth is watering. Happiness is clasping me.¹ My eight sharp-tipped tusks, whose thrust none can withstand, I will at length bury in the bodies and the tender flesh. I will leap on to a human neck, tear the veins open and drink my fill of the warm, fresh, foaming blood. Go; find out who is lying there in the forest. The strong human smell seems to refresh my nose. Kill all these persons, and bring them to me ### [v2.c11.42](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.42) ¹ Snehasravāt prasravati (printed prasavati) jihvā, paryeti me sukham. K has: Jighrataḥ prasrutā snehāj jihvā paryeti me sukham. In B one expects mā rather than me. ### [v2.c11.43](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.43) Kathāratnākara, 106th and 183rd tales; Fr. v. d. Leyen, \*Ind. Märchen\*, 136 ff.; \*Herrigs Archiv\*, 11, p. 453; Keller’s “Altdeutche Erzählungen” in \*Stuttg. Lit. Verein.\*, Bd. 35, p. 372; Meyer, \*Isoldes Gottesurteil\* (Berl. 1914), p. 182, and with this Chavannes, \*Cinq cents contes\*, No. 12; Schiefner, “Ind. Erzählungen,” No. xvii (\*Bull. d. Petersburg. Akad.\*, Bd. xxiii, col. 29 ff.); Grimm’s \*Märchen\*, No. 16; etc. ### [v2.c11.44](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.44) here. As they are sleeping in our domain, thou hast nought to fear from them. When we have eaten to our heart's desire of the men's flesh, we will both of us dance many dances together in time.” Hiḍimbā went quickly off; but when she saw the mighty Bhīmasena watching over the sleepers, and towering up like a young ҫāla-tree, she fell in love with him, the one without compare in form on earth. “This dark, strong-armed, lion-breasted, lotus-eyed one would be a fitting mate for me. I could never carry out my brother's cruel order. The love for a husband is mighty beyond all, not so is the friendship for a brother. Were my brother to slay them, he would be sated but for a moment. If they live, then I have gladness for years unending.” As she could change her shape at will, she put on that of a glorious human being, and softly drew nigh the long-armed Bhīmasena. As though shy, playfully, dight with divine ornament, she spoke these words, as she smiled, to Bhīmasena : “Whence hast thou come, and who art thou? And who are these that are sleeping here? Here dwells the evil-minded Rākshasa called Hiḍimba. He has sent me, and means to eat you. But now that I have beheld thee, that shinest like a child of the gods, there is none other whom I will have as a husband. Do thou love me who love, whose soul and body are wounded by passion. I will save thee from the man-eater, and we will live together in the mountain wilds.” But Bhīmasena said that he could not leave his kindred to be eaten by the Rākshasa, and go off like one love-sick. She made answer: “Wake them, I will save them from the monster.” 1 “How should I wake them that sleep so calmly? What could a Rākshasa like this do to me? Go or stay, my dear, or do whatever thou wishest. Or send thy man-eating brother here.” She drew a picture of the dreadfulness of the Rākshasa, and offered herself to carry them all away through the air on her hip. Bhīma once more made boast: “I will slay him before thine eyes. The wretched Rākshasa is no match for me. See these round arms of mine, like elephants’ trunks, my thighs ### [v2.c11.45](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.45) ¹ According to K, which as so often happens elsewhere, has many additions in this place, Bhīma points out that he must not marry before his elder brother, and she answers (164.45): “I will save thee only and with thy mother. Leave thy brothers here, and mount my jaghana.” ### [v2.c11.46](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.46) like clubs, and my mighty firm chest. Now thou wilt behold my hero’s strength, that is like Indra’s. Do not belittle me, thou broad-hipped one, by thinking I here am only a man.” “I do not think little of thee, thou with the godlike form. But I have seen what the Rākshasa can do to men.” The giant heard his voice and ran there angrily. When he beheld his sister thus in fair human shape, wearing thin garb, with a wreath of flowers in her hair, and all decked, he opened wide his eyes, and bitterly reproached her for being so bent on man-hunting, putting a hindrance in his way through her blindness, and being willing to bring shame upon the Rākshasa princes. But as he raged on with gnashing teeth, Bhīma laughingly said to him : “Why shouldst thou awake these quiet sleepers? Set on me quickly, thou fool. Come, beat me! Thou shalt not kill a woman, especially when she has done thee no hurt, but another. This maid has no power over herself: she loves me now, she is driven on by the god of love, who has his being within the body. Not against thee has she sinned. It is love that did the crime; do not upbraid this woman here. When I am there, thou shalt not slay a woman. In a moment I will crush thy head.” Then the Rākshasa uttered wild threats, and fell on Bhīma. But Bhīma laid hold of the arm he stretched out, and first of all dragged the struggling Rākshasa a long way off, that the sleepers might not hear the noise of the fight. A fierce struggle now was fought between the two; like two rutting elephants of sixty years¹ they broke down trees, carrying away creepers with them. Kuntī and her sons were awakened by it, and she asked the wonderful apparition standing before her who she was. Hiḍimbā told her how things stood, and declared to her that, driven by the love that has its abode in the hearts of all beings, she had chosen the other’s son for her husband. Arjuna shouted to Bhīma that he would help him, and bring the monster down. But Bhīma answered: “Look thou on as one beholding only, and be not stirred. One that has once fallen between my arms stays not in this life." The brother bade him act quickly, before the east should redden, for by twilight, he said, the Rākshasas are strong.¹ Bhīmasena whirled the giant around a hundred times in the air, dashed him onto the ground, and broke him in twain at his middle, so that he met his end with a dreadful roaring. Then the brothers went quickly on, and Hiḍimbā followed them. Bhīma wanted to send her after her brother, fearing her vengeance and craft, but Yudhishṭhira prevailed on him not to murder a woman, and Hiḍimbā turned humbly to Kuntī : "Noble lady, thou knowest the sorrow that comes on women through love. It has come on me, and the cause is Bhīma. I have borne the utmost pain while awaiting the right moment. This has now come, and must be for my happiness. Friends, my duty and my folk I have left, and chosen the tiger among men, thy son, for my husband. If I am repelled by this hero and by thee, I cannot go on living. Therefore have pity on me, thou of the lovely face, thinking of me : 'She is blinded,' or 'given up to love', or 'has followed him'". She promised the fugitives every kind of help, and pointed out that on the general view life must be preserved in any way whatever that is possible and that unhappiness is harmful to virtue²; but that he who like herself keeps virtue unharmed amid unhappiness, and preserves his life in holy wise is worthy of all praise. At Yudhishṭhira's bidding she was then wedded to Bhīma but on the condition that she should only take her pleasure with him by day and always bring him back again at night; and Bhīma added he would only stay with her until she had borne a son. She was content with all, and now the two lived the happiest days in a great variety of splendid places, even in the forests of the gods; ### [v2.c11.47](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.47) ¹ The sixty year old elephant as a type of huge strength is often found in the Epic. So i, 151.4; 153.44; ii, 53.7; iv, 13.24; 31.31; vii, 28.20; Rām., ii, 67.20; vii, 23.45. Cp. Çiçupālav., xviii, 6, and Mallinātha, on the passage, where the forty year old is at the height of his strength. ### [v2.c11.48](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.48) ¹ The Rākshasas and other evil spirits are especially powerful by night, particularly at midnight, but also by twilight. See, e.g., 170.8 ff., 69; iii, 11.33; vii, 156.69; 173.57; Rām., i, 26.22, 23. ### [v2.c11.49](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.49) ² Also hunger destroys virtue and, as the old Upanishad so clearly teaches, knowledge and wisdom (iii, 260.24; ix, 51.36 ff.; xiv, 90.90, 91; cp. v, 33.101 f.; xiii, 93.66 f.). Therefore, according to an old verse, the draught-ox, the sacrifice in fire, and the scholar must eat heartily. Āpast., ii, 5, 9.13; Vashishṭha, vi, 21; Baudh., ii, 7, 13.7-8; ii, 10, 18.13; Çāṅkh.-Gṛihyas., ii, 16.5; K, i, 85.21. ### [v2.c11.50](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.50) for the beloved one, appearing in bewitching form, took the hero everywhere. But then she bore a son, and directly after she had first conceived, as is the way of Rākshasa women. And since the stipulated time was now run, she took farewell of Bhīmasena without a murmur, and went (i, 152 ff.).¹ ### [v2.c11.51](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.51) ¹ Rückert has translated this piece from the MBh. in a very much shortened and not altogether successful form: “Hidimba. Eine brahmanische Erzählung,” \*Gesammelte poet. Werke\*, Bd. xii (Frankf. a. M., 1882). It is given in a short form in MBh., iii, 12.94 ff. According to Samayamātṛikā, ii, 22, Bhima had deeply loved Hiḍimbā. As we are told in K, i, 160.4 ff. she lived seven months with him before she became with child. ### [v2.c11.52](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.52) Among the most beautiful passages in Indian literature are perhaps Rāma’s love-plaints for Sītā robbed by Rāvaṇa, only we must thrust our Western feelings somewhat aside, and not find this delicate, somewhat feminine soul of a hero unmanly. ### [v2.c11.53](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.53) The beloved one is not to be seen near the leaf-hut in the forest, and he cries out that without her he cannot live, nor has any wish for lordship over the gods or the earth. And how the poor timid one will pine without him! The hut itself is empty; like a madman, with eyes reddened by weeping, he runs about the forest, seeking her that is lost; from tree he wanders to tree, through the mountains, over rivers; he asks all the trees in moving speech, the beasts of the forest, whether they have seen the much loved, the wondrous-fair one; and in great horror he pictures to himself how the monsters have eaten her, have swallowed her bewitching limbs. And then again he cannot bring himself to believe that she could really have been taken from him; he calls out to her that she must now put an end to her play, as he is thus suffering; she must come forth from her hiding-place; he can see her yellow silk robe. He lets himself be persuaded by Lakshmaṇa that she has gone to pick flowers; that she, who so loves the forest, has gone wandering away in it, and will surely spring suddenly out to frighten him. And once more he searches all about with his brother, but finds her not, who to him “is dearer than his own life”. Then he breaks forth wailing once more; again he believes she is only hiding herself, and he calls out as before that he can see her, that the jest has gone on long enough. And as she still does not come, he is certain she must be dead, for how could she, she of all, otherwise leave him without consolation. He never wishes to go back to the city again; how can he go to meet his kindred without Sītā? “And without her heaven itself would feel empty for me.” ### [v2.c11.54](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.54) “There is no other on earth, methinks, that so much evil in his former being has done as I; for on me now there falls in one long chain but sorrow after sorrow, my heart and soul it crushes. My kingdom lost, the farewell from my folk, my father’s death, the parting from my mother— when I ponder on all this within me, then the wild waves of my sorrow are swollen. But all the sorrow died in me, O Lakshman, when I went forth into the forest, into want: I had Sītā! Now it rises again like fire, set swiftly blazing by the logs. She so noble, so timid, by the monster robbed, and snatched up into the air, she that else speaks in sweet notes—how must she have uttered sharp cry on cry of fear! Her face, whose lips so tenderly have spoken, and girt by a wealth of locks— it shone surely in the Raksha’s claws like the bright moon in Rāhu’s maw. With blood are flecked her rounded breasts, that ever knew but best of sandal-wood, red, lovely sandal. O sure it is: never shall I clasp my dearest one to me. By me forsaken in the lonely forest, ringed round and hurried away by the Rakshas, the woman with great, lovely eyes has in sorrow mourned like the hen-osprey. On this rock sat with me once Sītā of the glorious life. How sweetly did she smile and laugh, O Lakshman, and as she prattled, to thee said this and that. ### [v2.c11.55](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.55) She might have gone into that forest of blooming, close-set trees of many kinds, and filled with flocks of birds.—But that too cannot be. Left thus alone, the timid one is too afraid. What here is done, what not, O sun, knowest it, witness to the works of truth and falsehood. Whither then went my darling? Did a robber take her? Tell me of all, who am the mark of sorrow. Nothing, nothing is in the universe to find, whereof, O wind, thou shouldst no knowledge have. Tell of her that is the treasure of her house: is she dead? carried off? still on the way?" ### [v2.c11.56](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.56) Again he goes on looking and looking; the river Godāvarī gives no answer to the anguished questioner, the mountain tells him nought; but the beasts of the forest let him understand that he must go southwards, and there he finds traces: flowers that have dropped from the ravished one, wreaths, bits of ornament, other signs of the Rākshasa; his anger blazes forth; he is going to destroy the whole world. Then the prince of the apes, Sugrīva, brings him the upper garment and ornaments of Sītā. Weeping loud he falls to the ground and presses to his heart these ornaments and garment which have felt the glow of her body. His thoughts henceforth are only for his beloved; particularly when he sees the moon rise, do his tears well up, and sleep comes not to his bed. He eats but at every fifth meal; flies, gnats, and other vermin he does not keep away from himself; he does not mark it at all, since his soul is busied but with Sītā; "Sītā, Sītā!" is the only sound on his lips. As an earthquake rocks the mighty mountain, so is he thrown this way and that by his sorrow. When Hanumant brings him a token from her, who is still pining in the captivity of the man-eating monsters, the token of a precious stone, then he calls out with tear-filled eyes: "As her milk flows from the tender cow for love of her calf, so does my heart flow at the sight of this best of jewels. Yes, for me it is as though I had my darling once again. But what could there be more harrowing than this, that the stone born of the sea comes to me again, but without her of the black eyes?" She can only live, he says, a short time longer without him, and amid the cruel wretches. And now he overwhelms the messenger with questions about her welfare, and wants to know every word she has uttered; for that, he says, will give him life, like medicine to the sick man. At last the army is camped on the sea-shore over against Laṅkā, the city of the Rākshasas, where Sītā is being held a prisoner; and Rāma breaks out into the words: "They say that sorrow dies with time; but in me, who do not see my beloved, it waxes day by day. ### [v2.c11.57](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.57) Blow, O wind, where my beloved tarries, touch her first, and then me, too. In thee our bodies touch one another, in the moon our glances are united.¹ I dive into the waters of the sea and sleep deep alone; there love's torments burn not the sleeper with glowing fire. ### [v2.c11.58](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.58) This it is that for the lover means much, and it is through this that he can live—that I and she of the lovely thighs are on one stretch of land. When shall I tilt lightly upwards her lotus-like face, lit by its lovely teeth, and drink, as the sick man drinks the draught of life? When will the quivering breasts of the laughing one, pressing against one another, swelling, like unto the wine-palm's fruit, when will they but clasp me? Alas! the black-eyed one who has me to shelter her, can find no rescuer, like one that is shelterless. When at last will Sītā, the kind, she like a daughter of the gods, twine herself round my neck, filled with longing, and shed tears of joy? When shall I of a sudden cast off this dreadful pain, that comes of my separation from Sītā, like a sullied garment?" (Rām., iii, 58, 60–64; iv, 6.11 ff.; 27.30 ff.; v, 35.38 ff.; 36.40 ff.; 66.¹ ff.). ### [v2.c11.59](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.59) ¹ Because they both look, parted from one another, into the moon. This is against the mistaken interpretation of Nīlakaṇṭha (vi, 5.6). ### [v2.c11.60](https://indike.org/pramana/ins.polity.meyer-1915.v2.c11.60) Bhīmasena, by far the most humanly attractive of the five brothers, shows, too, in his relation towards Draupadī, his deeper and passion-filled soul. "In this hermitary dwelt the tigers among men (the Pāṇḍavas robbed of Arjuna) for six days, earnest in the loftiest purity, and filled with _First 66 of 194 passages. 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