King Vikramaditya returned to the Shishapa tree, brought down the corpse in which Vethala dwelt, and placed it upon his shoulder. Then he set out once more through the dark cremation ground. As they went, Vethala began another story. “O King, listen carefully to this tale.”

On the bank of the Ganga stood a city named Kanakapura, where the bounds of Dharma remained unbroken and Kali could find no entrance. Its king was Yashodhana, a ruler true to his name, whose greatest wealth was his fame. Brave and firm in Dharma, he protected his kingdom like a rocky shore standing against an ocean of calamities.

In that city lived a wealthy merchant who had one daughter named Unmadini. She seemed to have arisen from the very ocean of beauty, and whoever saw her was almost driven mad by her loveliness.

When Unmadini reached the age of marriage, her father went before King Yashodhana and said, “Maharaj, my daughter is a jewel among women. I do not wish to give her to another without first informing you. You are the lord of all the jewels in your kingdom, so if she pleases you, accept this jewel of a woman and honour me.”

Hearing this, Yashodhana sent some Brahmins to examine Unmadini and see whether she possessed auspicious marks. The Brahmins went to the merchant’s house and saw her. Her beauty was so great that even they were disturbed by the sight of her. After a while, when they had regained their composure, they spoke among themselves.

“If the king marries this woman, whose beauty steals the heart of everyone who sees her, he may become completely devoted to her. Then how will he attend properly to the affairs of his kingdom? For the good of the kingdom, we must prevent this marriage.”

Having decided this, they returned to Yashodhana and said, “Maharaj, the young woman bears inauspicious marks.” The king believed them and refused the merchant’s daughter. Her father then gave Unmadini in marriage to Baladhara, the commander of the king’s army, and she went to live with her husband.

In time, spring came to Kanakapura. Jasmine burst into flower, lotuses opened, pollen filled the air, and tender shoots appeared upon the mango trees. The season seemed like a lion that had overcome the great elephant of winter.

During the spring festival, the Vasantotsava, King Yashodhana prepared to ride through the city upon an elephant. Before the royal procession began, drums were beaten through the streets and a proclamation was made asking respectable women to remain inside their homes while the king passed. Unmadini had not forgotten that Yashodhana had once rejected her. She believed that the king had refused her because he did not consider her beautiful enough, so when she heard the proclamation, she went up to the terrace of her house and stood where the king could see her.

As Yashodhana passed below, he looked up and saw Unmadini standing there in all her beauty. Amid the splendour of spring, she seemed like a flame rising from the fire of love, stirred by the fragrant winds from the Malaya mountains. The sight of her struck the king’s heart like an arrow from the Love-god, and for a moment he lost consciousness. His attendants quickly came to his aid, and when he recovered, they took him back to the palace.

There Yashodhana asked, “Who was that woman, that jewel among women?”

His attendants replied, “Maharaj, she is Unmadini, the merchant’s daughter who was once offered to you in marriage. You refused her after the Brahmins you sent declared that she bore inauspicious marks. She is now the wife of your commander Baladhara.”

When Yashodhana heard this, he understood how the Brahmins had deceived him and he banished them from his kingdom. But it was too late. Unmadini was now another man’s lawful wife, yet the king could not drive her image from his mind.

Day after day, his longing grew stronger. Remembering her face, he would lament, “Ah! When her spotless face is itself a festival for the eyes of the world, why does that dull and shameless moon still rise every night?” Consumed by love, Yashodhana slowly began to waste away.

Out of shame, he kept the cause of his suffering hidden. But when those closest to him repeatedly asked what troubled him, he finally told them everything. They said, “Maharaj, why do you allow yourself to suffer in this way? You are the king, and she is within your power.” But Yashodhana would not listen to such counsel.

When Baladhara learned that his master was suffering because of Unmadini, he went before the king and bowed at his feet. “Maharaj,” he said, “as your servant, I willingly give Unmadini to you. Please accept her. If you will not take her from me directly, I shall leave her at a temple. Then, as a woman belonging to the temple, you may take her without fault.”

Yashodhana was angered by these words. “Baladhara, I am a king. How can I commit such adharma? If I cross the bounds of Dharma, what other man will remain upon its path? A king must uphold what is right, not cast it aside for the sake of his own desire.

“You are devoted to me, yet you ask me to commit a wrong that may give pleasure for a moment but bring suffering afterward. If you abandon your lawful wife for my sake, I will not forgive you. How could I allow Dharma to be destroyed in this way? Death itself would be better than committing such a wrong.”

With these words, Yashodhana forbade Baladhara from speaking of the matter again. Others among his people also came and pleaded with him, but the king remained firm. Those who are truly firm in character may give up even life, but they do not abandon the path of truth.

Yashodhana’s love for Unmadini did not leave him. In time, consumed by that longing, the king died. His life was gone, but his fame remained. Baladhara could not bear the death of the master to whom he was so deeply devoted. Overcome with grief, he entered the funeral fire and gave up his own life. Indeed, the conduct of the deeply devoted is beyond description.

Having finished the story, Vethala said, “Now tell me, O King: between King Yashodhana and his commander Baladhara, who showed the greater strength of character? If you know the answer and yet remain silent, your head shall split into a hundred pieces. But if you speak, I shall leave your shoulder and return to the Shishapa tree.”

Vikramaditya replied, “Of the two, King Yashodhana showed the greater strength of character.”

Vethala said, “How can that be, O King? Baladhara was willing to give up the wife he loved for the sake of his master. When Yashodhana died, Baladhara even entered the fire and gave up his own life. Why, then, do you consider Yashodhana greater?”

Vikramaditya replied, “What you say of Baladhara is true. His devotion to his master was great. Yet there is nothing strange in a deeply devoted servant being willing to sacrifice everything for the one he serves. A faithful servant may consider it his duty to protect and serve his master even at the cost of his own life.

“But Yashodhana’s case was different. Kings surrounded by power and pleasure can become like rutting elephants that have thrown off the goad. Once desire takes hold of them, there may be little to restrain them. With the waters of coronation, it sometimes seems that their good judgment, too, is washed away.

“The teachings of wise elders may then be brushed aside like dust and flies before a royal fly-whisk. The royal umbrella may protect a king from the sunlight, but it can also seem to shut out the truth. When a man’s sight is clouded by the storm of prosperity, even the right path may become difficult for him to see.

“Even mighty kings who conquered the world have fallen when desire overcame their judgment. Nahusha himself came to ruin in this way. Yashodhana was also a powerful king. He loved Unmadini deeply and he had the power to take her.

“Those around him encouraged him to do so and Baladhara himself offered her to him. Yet Yashodhana would not take another man’s lawful wife. Though desire tormented him, he refused to set his foot upon the path of adharma. He chose to give up his life rather than abandon Dharma. Therefore, of the two, King Yashodhana showed the greater strength of character.”

As soon as Vikramaditya had spoken, Vethala slipped from his shoulder and, by his magical power, returned to the Shishapa tree. Vikramaditya turned back through the cremation ground and went once more to bring him down. For among the great, once a difficult task has been undertaken, there can be no rest until it is completed.