Bhoja had brought the earth under his supreme sway. Wishing once again to ascend the excellent throne, he approached the thirty-first statuette. ‘King Bhoja,’ she said, ‘you may have the pleasure of mounting this throne only if you possess the daring of Vikramaditya.’
‘Tell me, beautiful one, what was his daring like?’ the worthy monarch asked. ‘Listen, O King,’ said the statuette. ‘During Vikramaditya’s reign a yogi once came to see him in the assembly. He was a digambara, one who goes naked. All his limbs were sprinkled with ash, and on his forehead he bore the triple mark,1 also in ash. He wore clogs of gemstone on his feet, and looked a veritable Śiva, the repository of all knowledge. The high-minded king marvelled at seeing him, and greeted him with all honours.
‘The naked yogi placed a fruit in the king’s hands after pronouncing a benediction:
May the Lord Vishnu, devotion to whom
is the price of salvation even as the bridal fee
is for marrying a maiden, fulfill the wishes
of Your Majesty, his devotee.
‘Sitting down, he then said: “O King, I am going to perform a fire sacrifice in the great cemetery on the fourteenth day of the dark half, that is the moonless night, of the month of Mārgaśīrsha.2 Your Majesty is a benefactor of others and the greatest of heroes. So you must be my assistant on this occasion.
“‘What will I be required to do?” asked the king. “Not far from the cemetery is a śamī tree,” the naked one said, “and on it lives a genie. You will need to bring him to me,3 maintaining complete silence.” The king promised to do this.
‘On the fourteenth day of the dark fortnight the ascetic collected the material for the fire sacrifice and took position in the great cemetery. The king also went there at midnight. He was shown the way to the śami tree and, getting to it, he put the corpse possessed by the genie on his shoulder. As he was returning to the cemetery, the genie said: “O King, tell a story to relieve the travail of this journey.” But the king said nothing, for he feared he would break the silence. “O ruler,” the genie spoke again, “you are not telling a story as you fear to break the silence. So I will recount one instead. At its end, if you do not reply to my question for the same reason even though you know the answer, your head will burst into a thousand pieces.” The genie then narrated:
‘On the southern side of the Himalaya is a city called Vindhyavati. There reigned a king named Suvichāra, who had a son, Jayasena. The latter once went to the forest to hunt. Pursuing an elephant he saw there, he entered a dense jungle through which he somehow found the way back to the city. While he was returning alone, he noticed a river in the middle of the forest.
‘A brahmin was performing his midday devotions there. The foolish prince addressed him with arrogance: “Brahmin, hold my horse till I drink water and come back. Do it straightaway, right now itself.” Spoken to in this way, the brahmin retorted angrily; “Prince, am I your servant to hold your horse? Is it because of ignorance or affluence, pride or youth, or some perversity of princely passion that you speak thus?” The king’s son was incensed, and, consumed by the pride of youth, he struck the brahmin with his whip. Smarting under the lash, the noble brahmin went to the palace gate and raised an outcry.
‘The king was sitting on the seat of judgement. He called the brahmin and listened to the entire story about his wicked son. Eyes red with anger, he cursed his offspring with many a harsh word, and instructed his minister: “Exile him from the state for assaulting a brahmin. This is an irrevocable order. Carry it out.”
‘The minister knew his duties and was skilled in executing orders. “Sire,” he said on this occasion, “the prince is now competent to bear the burdens of government. Why are you exiling him from the country? This will not be proper.” “It is proper, minister,” said the king. “It will be appropriate because he struck the brahmin’s person with a whip. Intelligent people should not incur the enmity of brahmins. It is said,
A wise person does not eat poison,
nor play with serpents.
Nor should he censure yogis
or antagonize brahmins.
“‘The old verse from the conversation between Krishna and Yudhishthira4 in praise of virtuous and charitable conduct is well known:
Bharata, those who are about to lose
their fortunes are hostile to astrologers,
those their lives to physicians,
and those who are going to lose
both fortune and life
are hostile to brahmins.
“There are many similar sayings in the world. If indulgence is shown to the prince on account of his youth, it will without doubt destroy the family. That is not my wish, and so there is no question but that he must be exiled from the kingdom.”
‘The king was a stickler for form. Thus commanded by him, the minister stood up and said respectfully: “O protector of the people, you are expelling your only son! Master, how can you exile the sole pivot of your kingdom? The noble brahmin was tolerant and is satisfied. You too, master, should be tolerant of this single transgression.” But the king knew his duties. “In that case, O minister,” he said, “the hand with which he struck the brahmin needs to be cut off.”
‘As this punishment was about to be carried out, the brahmin arrived and said: “O King, your son acted as he did out of ignorance. From now on he will not commit such an impropriety. The prince should be pardoned for my sake. I am fully satisfied.” After these words, the king released his son and the brahmin went home.
✣
‘After narrating this story, the genie asked: “O King, who was the more virtuous of the two?” “It was the king,” said King Vikrama. But the silence had been broken with his words and, after hearing them, the genie went back to the śami tree.
‘The king then returned to the tree and again took the genie on his shoulder. As he was coming back, the genie once more recounted a story, and in this manner he narrated twenty-five tales to the king.
‘Finally, the genie was pleased on perceiving the king’s virtues: his subtle intelligence and expertise in the arts, his compassion, courage and magnanimity. “O King,” he said to Vikramaditya, “this naked yogi is trying to kill you.” “How?” asked the king. The genie replied: “When you take me there, he will tell you, ‘O King, you must be very tired. Now circumambulate this sacred fire, make obeisance with a prostration, and go home.’ When you bow down to make the obeisance, the naked one will slay you with a sword. Then he will perform the fire sacrifice with your flesh and make me into a brahmin. By doing this he will gain the eight magic powers5 such as lightness and the others.”
‘The king acted as the genic; had directed. The latter turned into a brahmin and himself conducted the fire sacrifice, using the yogi’s head for the final oblation. The king then obtained the eight magic powers.
“‘I am pleased with you, O King,” said the genie, “choose a boon.” “If you are pleased,” the king responded, “then bring this naked one back to life, And you must come to me whenever I call for you.” The genie agreed, and went away to his abode after reviving the yogi. As for King Vikrama, he gave the eight magic powers to the naked ascetic, and returned to his capital.’
After telling this tale, the statuette said to King Bhoja: ‘If you have such magnanimity, daring and other virtues, then sit on this throne, O King!’ But the king remained silent.