Once again when Bhoja approached the throne to mount it, a statuette restrained him, saying gently: ‘O King, give me your attention for a moment and listen to my words.
‘When Vikramaditya was king, in his capital city there lived a merchant named Bhadra Sena whose wealth was beyond measure. This man, who was no spendthrift, had a son called Purandara.’
‘In course of time Bhadra Sena died. Purandara inherited all his father’s properly and, in keeping with his years, began to fritter it away. Once his dear friend Dhanada told him: “O Purandara, even though you are a merchant’s son, you spend money like a scion of the high nobility. This does not become someone born in a trader family. A merchant’s son should accumulate wealth, even if he is single; he should not waste even a cowrie.1 The wealth a man accumulates will be useful in times of calamity. It is said:
It is only the man of wealth
whose desires get fulfilled.
Poverty has nothing.
A poor man is as good as dead
even though he may be alive.
Do not spend money for nothing.
On this earth the rich are happy,
even though they may lack
learning, penance and other virtues.
For those immersed in the ocean of problems,
wealth is the means of rescue.
So give up these childish ways, boy.
They lead to no good.”
‘After hearing this advice, Purandara said: “Dhanada, anyone who says that accumulated money is useful in a calamity is out of his mind. When calamities come, the wealth which has been acquired is also destroyed. The man of discrimination should neither grieve for what is gone nor worry about what is to come, but think only of the present. Similarly, it is said,
One should neither grieve for the past,
nor worry about the future.
The wise work for the present.
“‘For what will happen will happen even without any effort, and what had to pass will have similarly passed away. It is said,
What has to be will certainly be,
like the milk inside the coconut fruit;
and what had to go has gone,
like the wood-apple eaten by
the elephant, as they say.
The greedy man piles up money
like a broom which sweeps together
the grain scattered on the ground;
better than him are those who
donate or consume what they have.
The wise have said that if one’s money
is neither enjoyed nor given away,
it then becomes the root of calamities.”
‘Dhanada had no answer to these words, and he kept silent. Purandara then expended all his father’s money and became a pauper. His relatives and friends respected him no longer; they would not even speak to him. “Oh, these friends and others attend *** as long as there was money in my hands,” he thought to himself, “Now they do not speak to me. This is the true guideline: only one who has wealth has friends and their like. It is said,
One who has wealth has friends
and relatives, is considered learned
and indeed a man by the people.
“‘And, similarly,
Kinsmen do not behave as before
with a man whose wealth is gone.
His attendants, who were there
only because of his position,
go their own way. His friends
become fickle. What more can be said?
For certain, even the wife
does not have the same respect
for one whose wealth is gone.
‘“Similarly,
The man who has money is well born.
He is wise, learned, a connoisseur.
He alone is eloquent,
and he is good looking.
All virtues depend on gold.”
‘Thinking thus, and unable to look his kinsmen in the eye, Purandara quit Ujjayini and went wandering to Madhurā. Not far from that city was a forest of bamboos. At night Purandara slept on a bench at a house in an outlying village.
‘At midnight there came screams of a woman from the bamboo forest: “Save me! People, save me! This ogre is killing me!” In the morning Purandara asked the villagers: “What is there in this bamboo forest? Who was that woman weeping there?” They said: “Sounds of such weeping are heard every night in the forest here. But, out of fear, no one goes there to find out what it is.”
‘After his wanderings Purandara returned home and met the king who asked about his welfare. Eager to tell his curious story, he recounted it to the best of his knowledge. “Sire,” he said, “my father had lived at Your Majesty’s glorious feet. I gave away all the wealth that he had accumulated to supplicants, and was living in hardship without money. Crushed by the devil of poverty, and wanting to visit places of pilgrimage, I renounced my home and left the city. I wandered at will upto the Himalayas and, coming out of Kedāra, arrived at Madhurā. With its wealth and prosperity it is as lovely as the city of the gods. I roamed about there and slept at night at some woman’s house when I heard these screams far away.” Purandara then related the goings-on in the bamboo forest. On hearing of this marvel, the king went with him to the city of Madhurā.
‘At night the king also heard the sound of a woman weeping in the bamboo forest. He went into the wood, and saw a most terrible ogre about to kill a helpless woman who was in tears. “You villain!” he cried, “why are you killing this helpless woman?” “What have you got to do with this?” the ogre retorted. “Go your own way. Otherwise you will die by my hand for nothing.”
‘The king rebuked the ogre in heroic words. “Know that I am Vikramaditya,” he said. “What man dare harm a woman while I protect the people? Free this lady. Otherwise, listen, I will split your breast with the edge of my sword today and wash away your demons, vampires and witches in a stream of blood. Such will be your fall today that it will rend the earth and recall the crash of thunderbolts at the end of time.”
‘The ogre’s lips trembled with rage at the king’s wrathful words, and his long fangs lit up the darkness. “Do not brag before me, you little wretch of a petty prince!” he roared. “If you have valour then show it! My name is Narātikabala, and I am descended from Dundubhi.2 You do not know me, you fool. Can I be killed with blows of a club? Look between the fangs in my mouth! The bones of people like you are already stuck there, and have yet to be dislodged.”
‘Having proclaimed their prowess loudly to each other, the two champions, Vikramaditya and the ogre, then clashed together like great bellowing bulls or angry tigers. They fought each other like two rutting elephants, and an extraordinary battle ensued with marvellous manoeuvres and a fierce exchange of blows which produced showers of sparks. Their bodies were crimsoned with blood from the wounds they inflicted on each other, so that they looked like two hills of red chalk. The tremendous sound of their combat and the terrible blows of their clubs filled the sky, as if with applause. By his personal strength the mighty king eventually killed the ogre, beheading him swiftly with his scimitar, after piercing him with its point.
‘The woman then came up to the king and fell at his feet. “Master”, she said, “my curse has ended by your grace. You have rescued me from a great ocean of misery.” “Who are you?” the king asked. “Listen,” she replied. “There used to be a brahmin of great wealth in this very city. I was his wife. But I was wanton. He loved me deeply, but I had no regard for him. Proud of my beauty, I would refuse whenever he asked me to sleep with him. Tormented by desire all his life, my husband cursed me at the time of his death. ‘No, you wicked and villainous woman! Just as you have tortured me all my life, so will a hideous ogre from the bamboo forest do to you. Every night he will rape and murder you.’ Thus was I cursed, and I beseeched him to limit it. ‘No, my lord, grant me an end to this curse.’ He then said: ‘You will be freed from it when some man of great fortitude, who helps others, comes and kills the ogre.’ So now I have been released by you. My life is ending, and I have nine jars full of gold which will go waste. It is a trifle for you, but please take them.” She then told the king where the gold was kept and breathed her last.
‘In a sporting gesture, the king presented the nine jars full of gold to Purandara the merchant, and went back with him to Ujjayini. King Bhoja, if you have such daring, heroism and great magnanimity, then grace this lion throne.’