Notes. This is Kincaid's translation of the Marathi version of the classic Vetal Panchvishi, a collection of stories takes the form of riddles: a vetala (what you could call a ghost or vampire in English) asks the riddles, and the King Vikrama answers. You can read more about this masterpiece of Indian classical literature at Wikipedia.
Summary: This story tells what happen when the prince's beloved wife is kidnapped by a gandharva.
Read the story below:
PRINCESS LAVANYAVATI AND THE GANDHARVA
(M. V. Dhurandhar)
Once upon a time there was a town called Chudapur. In it there lived a king called Chudamani. He had a guru or spiritual teacher named Devaswami and a son called Hariswami. The latter was as beautiful as Kamdev the god of love; he was as learned in the sacred books as Brihaspati the teacher of the gods, and
he was as rich as Kuber the god of wealth.
The king married his son Hariswami to the daughter of a neighbouring king called Krishnaswami. Her name was Lavanyavati. She was a beautiful girl and both prince and princess loved each other and were as happy as possible.
Princess Lavanyavati and the Gandharva
One summer night the prince and princess went to sleep on the terrace of a house in the woods. As the princess slept her bedclothes slipped off to one side, exposing her beautiful face.
Now it so chanced that a Gandharva was just then riding through the sky in his air chariot. Looking down, his gaze fell on the lovely princess and instantly he fell in love with her. Silently he brought his chariot down until it rested close to where the princess slept. Then lifting her up so skilfully that she never woke, he placed her in his air chariot and soared into the heavens.
When prince Hariswami awoke, he noticed that his wife was no longer near him. Alarmed, he went downstairs and began to search the house, but it was of course hopeless to search for one whom a Gandharva had borne away. He returned to his father's city and searched in every lane and street. At last he began to despair.
"Someone," he said, "must have taken her away, but where he
took her I cannot guess." Going home he sat down and began to weep and lament. Then twice more he searched the whole town through, but all in vain.
When he again returned to his palace it seemed a desert without his beloved bride, so he sat down more despairing than ever. "My Beloved," he mourned, "you who were so good and sweet, I cannot live without you." So he wailed for days together.
The prince-beggar
At last his grief became more than he could bear. He rose and abandoning his house, rank and wealth, he became a wandering beggar. He flung aside his princely robes and put on nothing but a loin cloth. Then smearing his body with ashes he left the city and bareheaded and all but naked he roamed from shrine to shrine and from one town to another.
One day he went faint with hunger with a begging bowl in his hand to the house of a Brahman and asked for food. Now a beggar should go to a rich man's house, and not to that of a poor Brahman. But when a man is distracted with love, he can think neither of his caste nor his religion, nor does he care what or when or where he eats or drinks.
The Brahman bade his wife give the beggar some food. So she poured some milk into his begging bowl. With it Hariswami went to a banyan tree by the edge of a lake and putting his bowl on the ground went fast asleep.
It so chanced that a snake crept out and drank up part of the milk without Hariswami seeing it. When the prince woke up, he drank the poisoned milk and died very soon afterwards.
The ghost's riddle
At this point the ghost said, "King Vikrama, who was to blame for the prince's death? Was it the Brahman, the wife or the snake?"
"None of them," answered king Vikrama indignantly. "The Brahman did an act of charity. His wife obeyed her husband's order. The snake was a poisonous snake and could not help being so. For that was its nature. Nor was Hariswami guilty of suicide. For he did not know that the snake had touched the milk. Indeed," continued King Vikrama growing more and more heated, "if anyone were to fasten the guilt of the prince's death on any one of those four persons, he himself would be the guilty one."
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