Vikramaditya’s nemesis, Śālivāhana, was born many years later in the town of Pratishṭhāna,1 fathered by the serpent king Śesha on a little girl. In Ujjayini the king and the people witnessed evil omens at the time, such as earthquakes, comets and fires on the horizon.
Vikrama summoned the soothsayers and asked them: ‘Why do these omens occur day after day? What can they mean? Whose ruination do they portend?’
‘Sire,’ the soothsayers replied, ‘the earthquake took place at dusk. This indicates evil for the king. As mentioned in the book of Nārada,
An earthquake at dawn or dusk
bodes ill for kings.
And a yellow fire on the horizon
is extremely unfavourable for them.
‘In the book of Nārada it is further started,
A comet is said to signal the destruction of kings.
And a fire on the horizon,
if it is yellow in colour,
portends great danger for them.’
Vikramaditya then called his minister, Bhatti. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘what could these bad omens signify?’
‘Who can say?’ replied Bhatti. ‘This looks to me like something unfavourable. What it is, only the future will show.’
‘Why do you say unfavourable?’ the king rejoined, ‘I have nothing to fear. And listen to the reason, Bhatti. I will explain it all from the beginning.’
‘In the past I had pleased the great god Maheśvara with my penances, and the dark-throated, three-eyed god had appeared before me. Filled with happiness, I bowed to him but forgot for a moment what else I should do. The god then told me to ask for what I desired.’
‘I wanted immortality. So, I said to the god of gods: “Let the cause of my death be a son born to a two-and-a-half year old girl, and nothing else.” The god confirmed this boon and returned to his abode on Mount Kailāsa. Since then I have always and everywhere been free from fear.’
After hearing this account the wise minister told the king: ‘Well, everything is possible. Strange are the ways of our creator and saviour. He never has just one plan. King Hiraṇyakaśipu had been granted the boon that he could not be slain by any man or animal. Yet a youth who was neither one nor the other came into being to cause his death. Bearing this in mind, it would be better to mount a search for one who could pose danger for Your Majesty.’
‘Very well,’ said Vikramaditya, and he called in his mind for the genie who appeared instantly. Asked to hunt for a person such as the king had described, the genie bowed his head in acknowledgement of the great monarch’s order, and sped forth through the sky, swifter than the wind.
After searching the seven continents, the seven mountain ranges and the seven oceans, the genie returned with his finding. ‘I have looked at all that needed to be seen,’ he reported, ‘in the town of Pratishṭhāna, O King in the house of a potter, I saw a little boy like the newly risen sun. He was playing with a girl of hardly more than two and a half years. “Are you two related?” I asked. “This is my son,” the little girl replied. “Who is your father?” I then asked, and she pointed to a brahmin who was there.
‘I then questioned the brahmin. “This is my daughter,” he said, “and that is her son.” I was astonished. “How can this be?” I said to the brahmin. “The deeds of the gods are beyond our understanding,” he told me. “The serpent king Śesha was charmed by her beauty and loveliness, and had intercourse with her. This child Śālivāhana was born as a result.”’
Vikrama was amazed at the genie’s report. He ordered his army against the town of Pratishṭhāna forthwith. But Bhatti, whose acumen was well known, said: ‘Master, this is not the time for you to proceed against the enemy. It is better, sire, to follow the course of destiny from here itself.’ The king accepted this advice and called off his preparations.
Later, at another time and for some other reason, the great king was impelled by fate to proceed with his army against Pratishṭhāna. When Śesha learnt that Vikramaditya was determined to kill his son, he too prepared an army to destroy the other force.
A battle took place between the two armies, and the forces of Śālivāhana prevailed over those of their opponent. Seeing his troops in retreat, Vikramaditya charged sword in hand to despatch Śālivāhana. But the boy saw him attacking, and struck him with a staff. The blow was like that from the staff of the god of death. Its force shook the king, who fell back quickly on Ujjayini. The protector of everyone returned like one who himself needs protection.
In Ujjayini Vikramaditya died, unable to bear the pain of his wound. All the king’s wives prepared to enter his funeral fire. The ministers wondered what to do, for the king had no son. ‘Let us find out if any of his wives is with child,’ suggested Bhatti, and on investigation it was discovered that one was seven months pregnant. The ministers then got together and performed the coronation ceremony of the unborn child, and themselves undertook the management of the kingdom.
The throne presented by Indra stood vacant. One day a disembodied voice was heard in the assembly. ‘O ministers of Vikramaditya, there is no more a king such as him, worthy of sitting upon this throne. Therefore let it be put away inside the earth at some good place.’ The ministers thereafter buried the throne in a field of great purity.