Mârkandeya Purâna, Books Vii and Viii

BOOK VII.. Once Upon Earth There Lived a Saintly King

ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind, In virtue eminent, he ruled the world, Guarding mankind from evil. While he reigned No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens Of his fair city lawless. All their wealth, And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth And loveliness the women passed their days.

It so fell out, that while this mighty king Was hunting in the forest, that he heard The sound of female voices raised in cry Of supplication. Then he turned and said, Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop! Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate, That darest thus oppress the earth; while I, The tamer of all evil, live and rule?" Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,--he who blinds The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard The cry, and thus within himself he thought: "This surely is the great ascetic's work, The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts Display the fruits of penance hard and sore. Upon the sciences he shows his power, While they, in patience, discipline of mind, And silence perfected, cry out with fear, 'What shall we do? The illustrious Kaušika Is powerful; and we, compared with him, Are feeble.' Thus they cry. What shall I do? My mind is filled with doubt. Yet stay; a thought Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him, And entering his heart, I will fulfil All my desire." Then filled with Rudra's son-- Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here, Binding the fire on his garment's hem, While I, his king, in power and arms renowned, Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought? Surely the never-ending sleep of death Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail, Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow, Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain." Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.

But when the king beheld the pious sage All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly, And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves. Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!" And Harišchandra, humbly falling down Before the saint, in accents low and meek: "O Lord! most holy! most adorable! Oh, blame me not! This is no fault of mine! My duty calls," he said, "I must obey." "Is it not written in the Holy Law, 'Alms must be given by a virtuous king; His people must be fought for, and be kept From every ill'?" Then Višvâmitra spoke And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms? For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom Should'st thou protect? Oh, tell me, nor delay, But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin." "Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king: "Those who are weak should be protected: foes In battle should be met and overcome."

Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king! If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me; I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms." The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy, Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said: "Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika, Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain, Or be it easy, it shall still be thine. Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life? Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land? Or my prosperity itself?" "O king!" The sage replied, "thy present I accept; But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,-- The offering for the kingly sacrifice." "O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine; Further than this, whatever be the gift Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee. Ask what thou wilt." Then Višvâmitra spake: "Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns, With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men; Its elephants, its treasure-houses too; Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all, I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son, And this thy righteousness, that follows close Beside thee. Sinless one! oh thou who art Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all-- All beside these. What need of further words."

The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged In countenance, hearing the sage's words, Said, humbly bowing down before the saint, "So be thy wish fulfilled." "O saintly king," Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine, And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign, Since in this kingdom as a devotee I dwell?" Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this, Before the world was thine by my free gift, Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now? Thy right is doubly sure." Then said the sage: "If this indeed be so,--if the whole world Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty, Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced, But, casting off thy royal ornaments, Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark." The king, obedient to the sage's word, Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife And son, made haste to go. Then said the saint: "Stop, Harišchandra! Hast thou then forgot The offering for the kingly sacrifice That thou hast promised us?" Replied the king: "O mighty saint! the kingdom now is _thine; All have I given to thee_: and as for me, What have I left?--nought! save myself, My wife, my son!" "Thou sayest the truth, indeed," Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains The offering for the kingly sacrifice. And this know well: A vow to Brâhmans made, If unfulfilled, works special woe to him Who made the vow. For in this sacrifice Must offerings of worth be freely made To Brâhmans;--offerings until they cry Hold! that suffices for us! Therefore pay Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate. 'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said, 'Those who are weak must be protected: foes In battle must be met and overcome.'" "O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth Is all departed: nothing now remains For me to give: yet grant me time I pray, And I will pay the offering!" "Noble king," Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee! Say What time dost thou appoint that I should wait? Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire Shall burn thee up." Then Harišchandra said: "Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past The money for the offering shall be thine. Now I have nothing. Oh! be pleased to grant Remission for the present." Said the sage, "Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith! And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies Harass thy road." Commanded thus, the king Departed as an outcast;--he, the king Of all the earth, an exile with his wife Unused to go afoot, and with his son Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain, Why dost thou leave us thus? O virtuous king! Show mercy to thy subjects. Righteousness Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full Of mercy, may it overflow on us. Stay! Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form. Alas! our Prince! Shall we ne'er see thee more? How changed thy princely state! Thou, who did'st once Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings, Who marched on foot; while stately elephants Bore e'en thy ministers. Now, Lord of Kings! Thyself art driven forth on foot. Yet, stay! Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure The dust, the heat, the toil? Stay, mighty prince, Nor cast thy duty off. Oh, show to us Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies. Behold, we cast off all for thee! Our wives, Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all Have we relinquished; like thy shadow, We would follow thee. Oh leave us not! For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness, And heaven itself would be no heaven to us Without our prince." Then, overwhelmed with grief At these laments, the king stayed on his course, In pity for his loving citizens. Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame! O full of falsehood, and of wickedness. How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies! Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made, And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?" "Sir! I go!" replied the king to these rude words, And trembling crept away in haste, his wife Holding him by the hand. And, as she went, Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness, The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick. Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief, Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!" Nor further spoke. Filled with compassion then, The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this? What torments shall indeed suffice for him By whom this pious king--the offerer Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth. Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice, That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"

Continue reading Mârkandeya Purâna, Books Vii and Viii free in the Wunder reader →