THE VAMPIRE'S SIXTH STORY

VIKRAM AND THE VAMPIRE.

THE VAMPIRE'S SIXTH STORY.



In Which Three Men Dispute about a Woman.
On the lovely banks of Jumna's stream there was a city known as
Dharmasthal--the Place of Duty; and therein dwelt a certain
Brahman called Keshav. He was a very pious man, in the constant
habit of performing penance and worship upon the river Sidi. He
modelled his own clay images instead of buying them from others;
he painted holy stones red at the top, and made to them offerings
of flowers, fruit, water, sweetmeats, and fried peas. He had
become a learned man somewhat late in life, having, until twenty
years old, neglected his reading, and addicted himself to
worshipping the beautiful youth Kama-Deva[FN#116] and Rati his
wife, accompanied by the cuckoo, the humming-bee, and sweet
breezes.
One day his parents having rebuked him sharply for his
ungovernable conduct, Keshav wandered to a neighbouring
hamlet, and hid himself in the tall fig-tree which shadowed a
celebrated image of Panchanan.[FN#117] Presently an evil thought
arose in his head: he defiled the god, and threw him into the
nearest tank.
The next morning, when the person arrived whose livelihood
depended on the image, he discovered that his god was gone. He
returned into the village distracted, and all was soon in an uproar
about the lost deity.
In the midst of this confusion the parents of Keshav arrived,
seeking for their son; and a man in the crowd declared that he had
seen a young man sitting in Panchanan's tree, but what had become
of the god he knew not.
The runaway at length appeared, and the suspicions of the villagers
fell upon him as the stealer of Panchanan. He confessed the fact,
pointed out the place where he had thrown the stone, and added
that he had polluted the god. All hands and eyes were raised in
amazement at this atrocious crime, and every one present declared
that Panchanan would certainly punish the daring insult by
immediate death. Keshav was dreadfully frightened; he began to
obey his parents from that very hour, and applied to his studies so
sedulously that he soon became the most learned man of his
country.
Now Keshav the Brahman had a daughter whose name was the
Madhumalati or Sweet Jasmine. She was very beautiful. Whence
did the gods procure the materials to form so exquisite a face?
They took a portion of the most excellent part of the moon to form
that beautiful face? Does any one seek a proof of this? Let him
look at the empty places left in the moon. Her eyes resembled the
full-blown blue nymphaea; her arms the charming stalk of the
lotus; her flowing tresses the thick darkness of night.
When this lovely person arrived at a marriageable age, her mother,
father, and brother, all three became very anxious about her. For
the wise have said, "A daughter nubile but without a husband is
ever a calamity hanging over a house." And, "Kings, women, and
climbing plants love those who are near them." Also, "Who is
there that has not suffered from the sex? for a woman cannot be
kept in due subjection, either by gifts or kindness, or correct
conduct, or the greatest services, or the laws of morality, or by the
terror of punishment, for she cannot discriminate between good
and evil."
It so happened that one day Keshav the Brahman went to the
marriage of a certain customer of his,[FN#118] and his son
repaired to the house of a spiritual preceptor in order to read.
During their absence, a young man came to the house, when the
Sweet Jasmine's mother, inferring his good qualities from his good
looks, said to him, "I will give to thee my daughter in marriage."
The father also had promised his daughter to a Brahman youth
whom he had met at the house of his employer; and the brother
likewise had betrothed his sister to a fellow student at the place
where he had gone to read.
After some days father and son came home, accompanied by these
two suitors, and in the house a third was already seated. The name
of the first was Tribikram, of the second Baman, and of the third
Madhusadan. The three were equal in mind and body, in
knowledge, and in age.
Then the father, looking upon them, said to himself, "Ho! there is
one bride and three bridegrooms; to whom shall I give, and to
whom shall I not give? We three have pledged our word to these
three. A strange circumstance has occurred; what must we do?"
He then proposed to them a trial of wisdom, and made them agree
that he who should quote the most excellent saying of the wise
should become his daughter's husband.
Quoth Tribikram: "Courage is tried in war; integrity in the
payment of debt and interest; friendship in distress; and the
faithfulness of a wife in the day of poverty."
Baman proceeded: "That woman is destitute of virtue who in her
father's house is not in subjection, who wanders to feasts and
amusements, who throws off her veil in the presence of men, who
remains as a guest in the houses of strangers, who is much devoted
to sleep, who drinks inebriating beverages, and who delights in
distance from her husband."
"Let none," pursued Madhusadan, "confide in the sea, nor in
whatever has claws or horns, or who carries deadly weapons;
neither in a woman, nor in a king."
Whilst the Brahman was doubting which to prefer, and rather
inclining to the latter sentiment, a serpent bit the beautiful girl, and
in a few hours she died.
Stunned by this awful sudden death, the father and the three suitors
sat for a time motionless. They then arose, used great exertions,
and brought all kinds of sorcerers, wise men and women who
charm away poisons by incantations. These having seen the girl
said, "She cannot return to life." The first declared, "A person
always dies who has been bitten by a snake on the fifth, sixth,
eighth, ninth, and fourteenth days of the lunar month.'' The second
asserted, "One who has been bitten on a Saturday or a Tuesday
does not survive." The third opined, "Poison infused during certain
six lunar mansions cannot be got under." Quoth the fourth, "One
who has been bitten in any organ of sense, the lower lip, the cheek,
the neck, or the stomach, cannot escape death." The fifth said, "In
this case even Brahma, the Creator, could not restore life--of what
account, then, are we? Do you perform the funeral rites; we will
depart."
Thus saying, the sorcerers went their way. The mourning father
took up his daughter's corpse and caused it to be burnt, in the place
where dead bodies are usually burnt, and returned to his house.
After that the three young men said to one another, "We must now
seek happiness elsewhere. And what better can we do than obey
the words of Indra, the God of Air, who spake thus ?--
"'For a man who does not travel about there is no felicity, and a
good man who stays at home is a bad man. Indra is the friend of
him who travels. Travel!
"'A traveller's legs are like blossoming branches, and he himself
grows and gathers the fruit. All his wrongs vanish, destroyed by
his exertion on the roadside. Travel!
"'The fortune of a man who sits, sits also; it rises when he rises; it
sleeps when he sleeps; it moves well when he moves. Travel!
"'A man who sleeps is like the Iron Age. A man who awakes is like
the Bronze Age. A man who rises up is like the Silver Age. A man
who travels is like the Golden Age. Travel!
"'A traveller finds honey; a traveller finds sweet figs. Look at the
happiness of the sun, who travailing never tires. Travel!"'
Before parting they divided the relics of the beloved one, and then
they went their way.
Tribikram, having separated and tied up the burnt bones, became
one of the Vaisheshikas, in those days a powerful sect. He
solemnly forswore the eight great crimes, namely: feeding at night;
slaying any animal; eating the fruit of trees that give milk, or
pumpkins or young bamboos: tasting honey or flesh; plundering
the wealth of others; taking by force a married woman; eating
flowers, butter, or cheese; and worshipping the gods of other
religions. He learned that the highest act of virtue is to abstain
from doing injury to sentient creatures; that crime does not justify
the destruction of life; and that kings, as the administrators of
criminal justice, are the greatest of sinners. He professed the five
vows of total abstinence from falsehood, eating flesh or fish, theft,
drinking spirits, and marriage. He bound himself to possess
nothing beyond a white loin-cloth, a towel to wipe the mouth, a
beggar's dish, and a brush of woollen threads to sweep the ground
for fear of treading on insects. And he was ordered to fear secular
affairs; the miseries of a future state; the receiving from others
more than the food of a day at once; all accidents; provisions, if
connected with the destruction of animal life; death and disgrace;
also to please all, and to obtain compassion from all.
He attempted to banish his love. He said to himself, "Surely it was
owing only to my pride and selfishness that I ever looked upon a
woman as capable of affording happiness; and I thought, 'Ah! ah!
thine eyes roll about like the tail of the water-wagtail, thy lips
resemble the ripe fruit, thy bosom is like the lotus bud, thy form is
resplendent as gold melted in a crucible, the moon wanes through
desire to imitate the shadow of thy face, thou resemblest the
pleasure-house of Cupid; the happiness of all time is concentrated
in thee; a touch from thee would surely give life to a dead image;
at thy approach a living admirer would be changed by joy into a
lifeless stone; obtaining thee I can face all the horrors of war; and
were I pierced by showers of arrows, one glance of thee would
heal all my wounds.'
"My mind is now averted from the world. Seeing her I say, 'Is this
the form by which men are bewitched? This is a basket covered
with skin; it contains bones, flesh, blood, and impurities. The
stupid creature who is captivated by this--is there a cannibal
feeding in Currim a greater cannibal than he? These persons call a
thing made up of impure matter a face, and drink its charms as a
drunkard swallows the inebriating liquor from his cup. The blind,
infatuated beings! Why should I be pleased or displeased with this
body, composed of flesh and blood? It is my duty to seek Him who
is the Lord of this body, and to disregard everything which gives
rise either to pleasure or to pain.'"
Baman, the second suitor, tied up a bundle of his beloved one's
ashes, and followed--somewhat prematurely--the precepts of the
great lawgiver Manu. "When the father of a family perceives his
muscles becoming flaccid, and his hair grey, and sees the child of
his child, let him then take refuge in a forest. Let him take up his
consecrated fire and all his domestic implements for making
oblations to it, and, departing from the town to the lonely wood, let
him dwell in it with complete power over his organs of sense and
of action. With many sorts of pure food, such as holy sages used to
eat, with green herbs, roots, and fruit, let him perform the five
great sacraments, introducing them with due ceremonies. Let him
wear a black antelope-hide, or a vesture of bark; let him bathe
evening and morning; let him suffer the hair of his head, his beard
and his nails to grow continually. Let him slide backwards and
forwards on the ground; or let him stand a whole day on tiptoe; or
let him continue in motion, rising and sitting alternately; but at
sunrise, at noon, and at sunset, let him go to the waters and bathe
In the hot season let him sit exposed to five fires, four blazing
around him, with the sun above; in the rains let him stand
uncovered, without even a mantle, where the clouds pour the
heaviest showers; in the cold season let him wear damp clothes,
and let him increase by degrees the austerity of his devotions.
Then, having reposited his holy fires, as the law directs, in his
mind, let him live without external fire, without a mansion, wholly
silent, feeding on roots and fruit."
Meanwhile Madhusadan the third, having taken a wallet and
neckband, became a Jogi, and began to wander far and wide, living
on nothing but chaff, and practicing his devotions. In order to see
Brahma he attended to the following duties; 1. Hearing; 2.
Meditation; 3. Fixing the Mind; 4. Absorbing the Mind. He
combated the three evils, restlessness, injuriousness,
voluptuousness by settling the Deity in his spirit, by subjecting his
senses, and by destroying desire. Thus he would do away with the
illusion (Maya) which conceals all true knowledge. He repeated
the name of the Deity till it appeared to him in the form of a Dry
Light or glory. Though connected with the affairs of life, that is,
with affairs belonging to a body containing blood, bones, and
impurities; to organs which are blind, palsied, and full of weakness
and error; to a mind filled with thirst, hunger, sorrow, infatuation;
to confirmed habits, and to the fruits of former births: still he
strove not to view these things as realities. He made a companion
of a dog, honouring it with his own food, so as the better to think
on spirit. He practiced all the five operations connected with the
vital air, or air collected in the body. He attended much to
Pranayama, or the gradual suppression of breathing, and he
secured fixedness of mind as follows. By placing his sight and
thoughts on the tip of his nose he perceived smell; on the tip of his
tongue he realized taste, on the root of his tongue he knew sound,
and so forth. He practiced the eighty-four Asana or postures,
raising his hand to the wonders of the heavens, till he felt no longer
the inconveniences of heat or cold, hunger or thirst. He particularly
preferred the Padma or lotus-posture, which consists of bringing
the feet to the sides, holding the right in the left hand and the left in
the right. In the work of suppressing his breath he permitted its
respiration to reach at furthest twelve fingers' breadth, and
gradually diminished the distance from his nostrils till he could
confine it to the length of twelve fingers from his nose, and even
after restraining it for some time he would draw it from no greater
distance than from his heart. As respects time, he began by
retaining inspiration for twenty-six seconds, and he enlarged this
period gradually till he became perfect. He sat cross-legged,
closing with his fingers all the avenues of inspiration, and he
practiced Prityahara, or the power of restraining the members of
the body and mind, with meditation and concentration, to which
there are four enemies, viz., a sleepy heart, human passions, a
confused mind, and attachment to anything but the one Brahma.
He also cultivated Yama, that is, inoffensiveness, truth, honesty,
the forsaking of all evil in the world, and the refusal of gifts except
for sacrifice, and Nihama, i.e., purity relative to the use of water
after defilement, pleasure in everything whether in prosperity or
adversity, renouncing food when hungry, and keeping down the
body. Thus delivered from these four enemies of the flesh, he
resembled the unruffled flame of the lamp, and by Brahmagnana,
or meditating on the Deity, placing his mind on the sun, moon,
fire, or any other luminous body, or within his heart, or at the
bottom of his throat, or in the centre of his skull, he was enabled to
ascend from gross images of omnipotence to the works and the
divine wisdom of the glorious original.
One day Madhusadan, the Jogi, went to a certain house for food,
and the householder having seen him began to say, "Be so good as
to take your food here this day!" The visitor sat down, and when
the victuals were ready, the host caused his feet and hands to be
washed, and leading him to the Chauka, or square place upon
which meals are served, seated him and sat by him. And he quoted
the scripture: "No guest must be dismissed in the evening by a
housekeeper: he is sent by the returning sun, and whether he come
in fit season or unseasonably, he must not sojourn in the house
without entertainment: let me not eat any delicate food, without
asking my guest to partake of it: the satisfaction of a guest will
assuredly bring the housekeeper wealth, reputation, long life, and a
place in heaven."
The householder's wife then came to serve up the food, rice and
split peas, oil, and spices, all cooked in a new earthen pot with
pure firewood. Part of the meal was served and the rest remained
to be served, when the woman's little child began to cry aloud and
to catch hold of its mother's dress. She endeavoured to release
herself, but the boy would not let go, and the more she coaxed the
more he cried, and was obstinate. On this the mother became
angry, took up the boy and threw him upon the fire, which
instantly burnt him to ashes.
Madhusadan, the Jogi, seeing this, rose up without eating. The
master of the house said to him, "Why eatest thou not?" He
replied, "I am ' Atithi,' that is to say, to be entertained at your
house, but how can one eat under the roof of a person who has
committed such a Rakshasa-like (devilish) deed? Is it not said, 'He
who does not govern his passions, lives in vain'? 'A foolish king, a
person puffed up with riches, and a weak child, desire that which
cannot be procured'? Also, 'A king destroys his enemies, even
when flying; and the touch of an elephant, as well as the breath of
a serpent, are fatal; but the wicked destroy even while laughing'?"
Hearing this, the householder smiled; presently he arose and went
to another part of the tenement, and brought back with him a book,
treating on Sanjivnividya, or the science of restoring the dead to
life. This he had taken from its hidden place, two beams almost
touching one another with the ends in the opposite wall. The
precious volume was in single leaves, some six inches broad by
treble that length, and the paper was stained with yellow orpiment
and the juice of tamarind seeds to keep away insects.
The householder opened the cloth containing the book, untied the
flat boards at the top and bottom, and took out from it a charm.
Having repeated this Mantra, with many ceremonies, he at once
restored the child to life, saying, "Of all precious things,
knowledge is the most valuable; other riches may be stolen, or
diminished by expenditure, but knowledge is immortal, and the
greater the expenditure the greater the increase; it can be shared
with none, and it defies the power of the thief."
The Jogi, seeing this marvel, took thought in his heart, "If I could
obtain that book, I would restore my beloved to life, and give up
this course of uncomfortable postures and difficulty of breathing."
With this resolution he sat down to his food, and remained in the
house.
At length night came, and after a time, all, having eaten supper,
and gone to their sleeping-places, lay down. The Jogi also went to
rest in one part of the house, but did not allow sleep to close his
eyes. When he thought that a fourth part of the hours of darkness
had sped, and that all were deep in slumber, then he got up very
quietly, and going into the room of the master of the house, he
took down the book from the beam-ends and went his ways.
Madhusadan, the Jogi, went straight to the place where the
beautiful Sweet Jasmine had been burned. There he found his two
rivals sitting talking together and comparing experiences. They
recognized him at once, and cried aloud to him, "Brother! thou
also hast been wandering over the world; tell us this--hast thou
learned anything which can profit us?" He replied, "I have learned
the science of restoring the dead to life"; upon which they both
exclaimed, "If thou hast really learned such knowledge, restore our
beloved to life."
Madhusadan proceeded to make his incantations, despite terrible
sights in the air, the cries of jackals, owls, crows, cats, asses,
vultures, dogs, and lizards, and the wrath of innumerable invisible
beings, such as messengers of Yama (Pluto), ghosts, devils,
demons, imps, fiends, devas, succubi, and others. All the three
lovers drawing blood from their own bodies, offered it to the
goddess Chandi, repeating the following incantation, "Hail!
supreme delusion! Hail! goddess of the universe! Hail! thou who
fulfillest the desires of all. May I presume to offer thee the blood
of my body; and wilt thou deign to accept it, and be propitious
towards me!"
They then made a burnt-offering of their flesh, and each one
prayed, "Grant me, O goddess! to see the maiden alive again, in
proportion to the fervency with which I present thee with mine
own flesh, invoking thee to be propitious to me. Salutation to thee
again and again, under the mysterious syllables any! any!"
Then they made a heap of the bones and the ashes, which had been
carefully kept by Tribikram and Baman. As the Jogi Madhusadan
proceeded with his incantation, a white vapour arose from the
ground, and, gradually condensing, assumed a perispiritual form--
the fluid envelope of the soul. The three spectators felt their blood
freeze as the bones and the ashes were gradually absorbed into the
before shadowy shape, and they were restored to themselves only
when the maiden Madhuvati begged to be taken home to her
mother.
Then Kama, God of Love, blinded them, and they began fiercely to
quarrel about who should have the beautiful maid. Each wanted to
be her sole master. Tribikram declared the bones to be the great
fact of the incantation; Baman swore by the ashes; and
Madhusadan laughed them both to scorn. No one could decide the
dispute; the wisest doctors were all nonplussed; and as for the
Raja--well! we do not go for wit or wisdom to kings. I wonder if
the great Raja Vikram could decide which person the woman
belonged to?
"To Baman, the man who kept her ashes, fellow!" exclaimed the
hero, not a little offended by the free remarks of the fiend.
"Yet," rejoined the Baital impudently, "if Tribikram had not
preserved her bones how could she have been restored to life? And
if Madhusadan had not learned the science of restoring the dead to
life how could she have been revivified? At least, so it seems to
me. But perhaps your royal wisdom may explain."
"Devil!" said the king angrily, "Tribikram, who preserved her
bones, by that act placed himself in the position of her son;
therefore he could not marry her. Madhusadan, who, restoring her
to life, gave her life, was evidently a father to her; he could not,
then, become her husband. Therefore she was the wife of Baman,
who had collected her ashes."
"I am happy to see, O king," exclaimed the Vampire, "that in spite
of my presentiments, we are not to part company just yet. These
little trips I hold to be, like lovers' quarrels, the prelude to closer
union. With your leave we will still practice a little suspension."
And so saying, the Baital again ascended the tree, and was
suspended there.
"Would it not be better," thought the monarch, after recapturing
and shouldering the fugitive, "for me to sit down this time and
listen to the fellow's story? Perhaps the double exercise of walking
and thinking confuses me."
With this idea Vikram placed his bundle upon the ground, well tied
up with turband and waistband; then he seated himself
cross-legged before it, and bade his son do the same.
The Vampire strongly objected to this measure, as it was contrary,
he asserted, to the covenant between him and the Raja. Vikram
replied by citing the very words of the agreement, proving that
there was no allusion to walking or sitting.
Then the Baital became sulky, and swore that he would not utter
another word. But he, too, was bound by the chain of destiny.
Presently he opened his lips, with the normal prelude that he was
about to tell a true tale.