The Dream of Müladeva
The Dream of Müladeva
Adapted from Hindu Tales: An English Translation of Jacobi’s Ausgewählte Erzählungen in Māhārāshṭrī
After his humiliating encounter with Ayala and Devadattā, Müladeva set out toward the distant city of Bennāyada. As he traveled through villages and towns, he eventually came to the edge of a vast forest that stretched twelve yojanas (about 84 miles).
Looking at the daunting expanse before him, Müladeva thought, “If I could find even just a companion for conversation, I might cross this forest more pleasantly.”
As if in answer to his wish, a Dhakka Brahman of distinguished appearance soon approached on the same road. The Brahman carried a box containing provisions for his journey and appeared to be a man of some means.
“Ho, doctor,” Müladeva called out, “do you have far to go?”
“On the other side of the forest there is a place called Viranihāna,” replied the Brahman. “That is my destination. But where are you bound?”
“To Bennāyada,” Müladeva answered.
“Then come,” said the Brahman, who introduced himself as Saddhada, though he mentioned that people called him by the nickname Nigghinasamma (Priest Pitiless). “Let us go ahead together.”
The two men set off into the forest. By midday, they came upon a beautiful lake. “Let us rest a moment,” suggested Saddhada.
They went to the lake and washed their hands and feet. Müladeva found a shady tree on the bank and sat down to rest. Meanwhile, the Brahman untied his box of provisions and took out a bowl of barley meal, which he moistened with water and began to eat.
Müladeva watched him, thinking, “That is just like the Brahman caste, whose principal characteristic is hunger. Surely he will offer me some food afterward.” But when Saddhada finished eating, he simply tied up his box and prepared to continue their journey, without offering Müladeva a single morsel.
As they walked on, Müladeva thought, “Perhaps he will share his food with me in the afternoon.” But when afternoon came, Saddhada ate in exactly the same manner, again giving nothing to his hungry companion.
Night fell, and the two travelers stepped off the road to sleep under a fig tree. At dawn, they set out again, and the same pattern repeated itself at midday—the Brahman ate his fill while Müladeva went hungry.
“We have almost entirely cut through the forest,” Müladeva thought on the third day. “Surely he will offer me something today.” But once again, Saddhada ate alone and shared nothing.
Finally, they emerged from the forest, and their paths diverged. “Sir, this is your road, and this is mine,” said the Brahman. “Therefore, travel by that way.”
Despite his hunger and disappointment, Müladeva maintained his dignity. “Listen, doctor,” he said. “I have arrived safely because of your company. My name is Müladeva. If it should happen that you ever need me for anything, come to Bennāyada.”
With that, the two parted ways—Saddhada toward his village and Müladeva toward Bennāyada.
Continuing his journey, Müladeva came upon a small settlement and entered it hoping to receive alms. He wandered through the entire village but received only a bowl of sour gruel. Carrying this meager meal, he headed toward a pond to rest.
There, he saw a remarkable sight—a great ascetic with a body dried up by penance and radiating dignity. The holy man had just completed a month-long fast and was entering the village to break his fast.
When Müladeva saw the ascetic, the hairs on his body stood up with joy. “Ah, how fortunate I am,” he thought, “that this great holy man has come into my sight at this moment! Surely this is a sign that my fortunes will improve.”
He recalled the sacred verses about such holy men:
“As a wish-yielding tree in the desert, as a rain of gold in the house of a poor man, as a king of elephants in the stable, so is this great-souled saint here.”
“Purified by insight and knowledge; attentive to the five great vows; steadfast; endowed with patience, gentleness, and uprightness; excelling in emancipation; delighting in study, meditation, and self-mortification; having a clear mind; possessed of the five virtues; guarded in the threefold way; having no property; free from the attachments of the householder…”
Looking at his own bowl of sour gruel, Müladeva thought, “This monk is an excellent vessel for charity. One’s property placed as seed in such a fertile field, and watered with the pure intention, brings forth endless fruit in this world and the next.”
Without hesitation, Müladeva decided, “I shall give him this sour gruel. This is an illiberal village, and this great-souled one, after making a call at a few houses, will likely turn back empty-handed. I can wander through the village again, or visit the next village nearby.”
Müladeva approached the monk, made a low bow, and offered his bowl of sour gruel. The monk, aware of Müladeva’s excellent state of mind and the purity of his offering, said, “Man of pious character, give me a little,” and held out his bowl.
With growing joy, Müladeva poured the sour gruel into the monk’s bowl, saying, “Blessed indeed are the men who have sour gruel when a monk breaks his fast.”
At that moment, something extraordinary happened. A deity traveling through the air, devoted to holy ascetics and pleased with Müladeva’s devotion, spoke to him: “Son Müladeva, you have done a beautiful thing. Therefore, ask by means of the last half of this verse what you would like, and I shall bring it about.”
Without hesitation, Müladeva completed the verse: “The courtesan Devadatta, a thousand elephants, and a kingdom.”
The deity smiled. “Son, live free from anxious thought. Surely by the might of the holy ascetic’s feet, you will obtain all these things in a short time.”
“Reverend lady, I believe it will be so,” replied Müladeva.
After worshipping the holy sage, Müladeva returned to the village, where he received more substantial alms. He ate his fill and then continued his journey to Bennāyada, arriving there in due course.
Having no place to stay, Müladeva slept outside in the travelers’ shed. During the last watch of the night, he had a vivid dream: the full-orbed moon in all her pure luster entered his belly.
Another ragged beggar in the shed had the very same dream and told the other beggars about it. One of them interpreted it, saying, “You will get a very big cake rich with ghee and sugar today.”
Müladeva thought to himself, “They do not understand the true meaning of this dream,” but he said nothing. Sure enough, the beggar went out for alms and received exactly such a cake from a householder, which delighted him greatly.
Müladeva, however, went to a garden where he won the goodwill of the garland-maker by helping him pick flowers. In return, the gardener gave him flowers and fruits. Müladeva took these gifts, cleaned himself up, and went to visit a scholar known for his expertise in interpreting dreams.
After making a respectful bow and presenting the flowers and fruits, Müladeva told the dream interpreter about his vision. The scholar’s face lit up with joy. “I will tell you the meaning of your dream at an auspicious hour,” he said. “Today, meanwhile, be my guest.”
Müladeva agreed. He bathed and enjoyed a sumptuous feast. After the meal, the professor surprised him by saying, “Son, I have a most splendid daughter. I would like you to marry her, out of regard for me.”
“Father,” Müladeva replied, “why would you make a man your son-in-law whose family and character you do not know?”
The professor smiled. “Son, by one’s conduct alone, one’s family, though untold, is known.” He quoted a verse:
“Conduct declares the family, speech declares the country, fluttering flurry declares love, appearance declares what one eats.”
He continued, “Who produces fragrance in the lotus flower, and sweetness in the sugar cane, and graceful sport in fine elephants, and well-bred demeanor in those born in noble families?”
“If there be excellent qualities, what need is there of family? The man of excellent qualities indeed has no concern with family. A stainless family is even a grievous stain for those who are destitute of good qualities.”
With such eloquent persuasion, the professor convinced Müladeva to marry his daughter in an auspicious hour. Afterward, he revealed the true meaning of the dream: “Within seven days, you will be king.”
Hearing this, Müladeva’s heart filled with joy. He stayed with his new family in pleasant ease. On the fifth day, he went outside the city and sat down in the shade of a Campaka tree.
Now, it happened that the king of Bennāyada had died without an heir. According to custom, the five divine emblems of royalty—the elephant, the steed, the golden pitcher, the chowries (ceremonial fans), and the royal parasol—were sent out to find the next king.
After roaming through the middle of the city, these royal emblems went outside the gates and came directly to where Müladeva sat. He was found sitting in a shade that did not shift with the sun’s movement—a miraculous sign of divine favor.
When the royal elephant saw him, it trumpeted loudly. The royal steed neighed, the golden pitcher sprinkled water over him, the chowries began to fan him, and the parasol positioned itself above his head.
The people who had followed the royal emblems cried out, “Hail! Hail!” The elephant lifted Müladeva onto its back and carried him into the city, where the ministers of state and vassals installed him as their new king.
A deity appeared in the heavens and proclaimed, “Hear! Hear! This is a most mighty king, Vikramaraja by name, who is a perfect master of all arts and whose body is inhabited by a divinity. Therefore, I shall not forgive anyone who disobeys his commands.”
Upon hearing this divine proclamation, the entire court—vassals, counselors, family priests, and all other subjects—became submissive to Müladeva’s rule. From that day forward, he lived enjoying the brilliant pleasures of kingship. He even established friendly relations with Viyaradhavala, the lord of Ujjeni, and they became the closest of allies.
Meanwhile, in the city Müladeva had left behind, Devadatta had been deeply troubled by the way Ayala had treated Müladeva. She grew increasingly disaffected toward her wealthy patron.
One day, she confronted Ayala directly: “Sir, I am a courtesan, not your legal wife. Yet you behave as if you own me when you stay in my house. Therefore, do not trouble yourself about me anymore.”
Having spoken thus, she went to the court of King Vikramaraja (Müladeva), whose fame had spread far and wide. Falling at his feet, she said, “My lord, grant me the favor you once promised me.”
The king, not immediately recognizing her, replied, “Speak; the favor is already granted. What do you wish?”
Devadatta looked up at him and said, “Then, O lord, I ask that no man save Müladeva shall ever be forced upon me.”
Only then did the king reveal his true identity to her, and their reunion fulfilled the first part of the deity’s promise. Soon after, the thousand elephants and the kingdom were also his, just as he had requested in his verse to the deity.
And so it was that Müladeva, through a simple act of generosity to a holy man, received all that he had wished for, proving that even the smallest kindness can yield the greatest rewards.
This tale teaches that generosity, even when we have little to give, can bring unexpected rewards. It also shows how maintaining dignity in difficult circumstances and treating others with respect—even those who do not reciprocate—can lead to eventual triumph.
