King Vikramaditya once again returned to the cremation ground and approached the same Shishapa tree. There he found Vethala dwelling in the corpse and laughing loudly. Seizing him by force, the king placed him upon his shoulder and set out in silence.

As he walked, Vethala said, “O King, why do you exhaust yourself in vain for the sake of this wretched mendicant? I see little wisdom in such fruitless effort. Still, since you persist, I shall tell you a story to lighten your journey. Listen carefully.”

There was once a splendid city named Shobhavati. It was ruled by King Shudraka, a sovereign renowned for his courage. The fire of his valour burned constantly, fanned by the chamara fans held by the women of his captive enemies. Under his rule, the earth prospered through the constant practice of dharma and seemed almost to forget the great kings of old, even Rama himself.

One day, a Brahmin named Viravara came before the king seeking service. His household consisted of his wife Dharmavati, his son Sattvavara, and his daughter Viravati. For his service, he carried a dagger at his waist, a sword in his hand, and a fine shield.

Viravara asked the king for a daily wage of five hundred dinaras. His appearance itself spoke of courage and generosity, and King Shudraka, who valued brave men, granted him what he asked. Curious to know how Viravara spent such a large sum, the king secretly appointed spies to observe him.

Each morning, after presenting himself before the king, Viravara stood armed at the lion-gate until midday. He then returned to his dwelling. Of the five hundred dinaras he received each day, he gave one hundred to his wife for food. With another hundred he bought clothes, unguents, and betel.

After bathing, he spent a further hundred in the worship of Vishnu and Shiva. The remaining two hundred he gave in charity to Brahmins and the poor. Having completed his daily duties, including the Agnihotra, he returned at night and slept at the lion-gate with his sword in his hand. When the king learned how faithfully Viravara lived and served him, he was greatly pleased.

Convinced that Viravara was an extraordinary man worthy of honour, he withdrew the spies.

Some time later, the season of heavy rains arrived. Great masses of clouds poured down day and night, yet Viravara remained steadfast at the lion-gate as before. One day, King Shudraka saw him standing there through the rain. Wishing to know whether his servant was equally steadfast at night, the king climbed to the top of the palace after darkness had fallen and called out, “Who stands there at the lion-gate?”

Viravara answered, “It is I.”

Pleased, the king thought, “How firm in spirit is this devoted Viravara! Surely I must raise him to a high position.” With that thought, he went to sleep.

The following night, still curious, the king again climbed to the palace roof and called, “Who stands there?”

The reply was the same: “It is I.”

The king marvelled at his constancy. Just then, from somewhere far away, he heard the sorrowful weeping of a woman. Troubled by the sound, Shudraka called to Viravara. “Listen. Somewhere in the distance a woman is weeping. Go and discover who she is and why she grieves.”

At the king’s command, Viravara fastened his sword and immediately set out. He paid no heed to the terrible darkness. The clouds poured down in torrents, and flashes of lightning gleamed through them like eyes in the night. Seeing Viravara disappear without hesitation into such a storm, the king was overcome by curiosity and concern.

Taking only his sword, he descended from the palace and secretly followed him.

Guided by the sound of weeping, Viravara came to a lake outside the city. There, standing in the midst of the water, he saw a woman lamenting bitterly. “Alas, O hero! Alas, O merciful one! Bereft of you, how shall I live!”

Viravara approached her and asked, “Who are you, and why do you weep in this manner?”

She replied, “O Viravara, know me to be the Earth herself. My husband at present is the virtuous King Shudraka. But I know that on the third day from now his death is certain. Never again shall I obtain such a husband, and therefore I grieve.”

Hearing this, Viravara said, “O Goddess, if you know of any means by which that lord, the jewel who protects the world, may be saved, tell me quickly.”

“There is only one way,” said the Earth.

Viravara begged her to reveal it.

“Near the royal palace stands a temple of the Goddess Chandika, established by the king himself. If this very day you offer your son Sattvavara to her as an oblation, the king will escape death and live for another hundred years.”

Viravara did not hesitate. “I shall go, O Goddess. I shall do it at once.”

“May good fortune attend you,” said the Earth, and she disappeared.

Unknown to Viravara, King Shudraka had heard the entire conversation from his hiding place. Wishing to know what Viravara would do, the king continued to follow him through the darkness.

Viravara returned quickly to his house, woke his wife Dharmavati, and told her everything that had happened. Dharmavati heard him and agreed that the welfare of their master was a sacred duty. She woke their son and told him, “If you are offered to Chandika, the king will live.”

Though still young, Sattvavara possessed a courage beyond his years. He said to his father:

“I am fulfilled if, through my life, O Father, the king may live.  Thus shall we truly repay the food of his that we have eaten.”

Viravara rejoiced at his son’s words. “Well spoken! Truly you are my son.”

He lifted Sattvavara onto his shoulder and set out for the temple of Chandika, accompanied by Dharmavati and Viravati. King Shudraka followed them secretly, watching everything in wonder.

At the temple, Viravara lowered his son from his shoulder. Standing before the Goddess, Sattvavara prayed, “By the offering of my head, may King Shudraka live and rule this vast kingdom for another hundred years.”

“Well spoken! Well spoken!” said Viravara. Then he cut off his son’s head and offered it to the Goddess.

At that very instant, a bodiless voice sounded from the heavens: “Well done, Viravara! Who else upon this earth could possess such devotion to his master?”

When Viravati saw her brother lying dead, her grief became unbearable, and she too gave up her life. Dharmavati, seeing both her children dead, turned to her husband and said that she would now enter the fire.

Viravara prepared a funeral pyre. Dharmavati fell at her husband’s feet and bowed before the Goddess. Then she prayed that in another birth she might once again have the same husband and entered the flames.

Viravara now stood alone. “My king’s purpose has been accomplished,” he thought. “I have repaid the debt of the food I have eaten. What purpose is there in my continuing to live alone?” Then another thought came to him. “Why should I not now please Ambika by offering myself as well?”

Standing before the Goddess, he praised her: “Victory to you whose feet are worshipped by the world, refuge and final bliss of those devoted to you! Victory to you who bear the rays of the sun, the boat that carries men across the darkness of sin! Victory, O Kali! Bearer of skulls, bearer of skeletons! O Bhavani, I bow before you. By the offering of my head, be gracious to King Shudraka!”

Having spoken these words, Viravara raised his sword and, with a single stroke, severed his own head.

King Shudraka had witnessed everything from his hiding place. Filled with wonder and anguish, he thought, “What a terrible sacrifice this man has made for my sake! If I do not repay such devotion, what worth is there in my kingship?”

Drawing his sword, Shudraka stood before the Goddess and prayed, “O Goddess, be pleased with the offering of my head. Let this Brahmin Viravara, who has given his life for me, rise again together with his family.”

The king raised his sword to strike. At once a noble voice sounded from the heavens: “O King, do not rashly perform such a terrible deed. I am pleased by your courage. Let the Brahmin Viravara rise again with his wife and children.”

The heavenly voice fell silent. At that very moment, Viravara, Dharmavati, Sattvavara, and Viravati all rose alive.

It seemed to them as though they had awakened from sleep. Viravara looked upon his wife and children in bewilderment. “You were reduced to ashes. How have you risen again?”

Then, seeing that he too lived although he had severed his own head, Viravara and his family understood that it was the grace of the Goddess. They bowed before Ambika and returned home.

When night came, Viravara went once more to the lion-gate and stood there as before. King Shudraka, who had witnessed everything, climbed again to the top of the palace and called, “Who stands there?”

Viravara answered, “It is I.”

The king then asked him what had happened when he went in search of the weeping woman. Viravara replied simply, “By your command, I went in search of her. But when I reached her, she vanished like a demoness.”

The king was astonished. He alone knew all that Viravara had done, yet the man spoke not a word of his sacrifice. Shudraka smiled and thought, “Ah, deep as the ocean are the firm-minded great! Though they perform deeds beyond all others, they do not boast of them.” The king descended and passed the remainder of the night.

The following morning, when Viravara came before him, Shudraka told his ministers everything that had happened during the night. They listened in amazement. Greatly pleased, the king bestowed upon Viravara and his son the kingdom of Lata in Karnata. From that time onward, Shudraka and Viravara, equal in power and helping one another, lived happily as kings.

Vikramaditya’s Judgment

Having finished the story, Vethala said to King Vikramaditya, “O King, tell me this: who among them was the bravest of all? If you know the answer and do not speak, the curse shall fall upon you.”

King Vikramaditya answered, “Of them all, King Shudraka was the greatest hero.”

Vethala objected, “How can that be? Was Viravara not more courageous when he sacrificed everything for his master? And what of his wife, who stood by while her own son was offered? Or Sattvavara, who, though only a child, showed the courage of a grown man? Why should any of them be considered less heroic than Shudraka?”

King Vikramaditya replied, “No, Vethala. Viravara was noble by birth, and for a man such as he, the protection of his master was a sacred duty, even at the cost of himself and his family. His wife was virtuous, noble, and devoted to her husband; she followed the path he had chosen. Their son possessed the same courage as his parents. As the threads are, so indeed is the cloth woven.

“But Shudraka was a king. Kings are accustomed to having their own lives protected by their servants. Yet Shudraka was ready to give up his own life for the sake of a servant. For this reason, he alone stands above the others in courage.”

Hearing Vikramaditya’s answer, Vethala immediately escaped through his own magical power and returned to his former place. King Vikramaditya, true to his vow, once again set out to bring him back.

Author’s Note

Viravara, Dharmavati, and Sattvavara each accept sacrifice as part of the duty they believe they owe their king. Yet Vikramaditya chooses Shudraka as the greatest among them for a different reason. A servant was expected to protect his king, but a king was not ordinarily expected to give up his own life for a servant.

Shudraka was willing to reverse that relationship. Having witnessed what Viravara and his family had sacrificed for him, he was prepared to surrender his own life so that they might live again. It is this willingness to go beyond what his position demanded of him that sets him apart in Vikramaditya’s judgment.

The tale leaves us with a simple question: when many people show courage and devotion, is the greatest sacrifice the one that costs the most or the one that goes beyond what duty requires?