The Cow of Plenty

Viśvāmitra was a king, the son of Gādhi, of the line of Kuśika. He was a kṣatriya, born to the warrior class that kings come from, as Vasiṣṭha was a brahmin, born to the priestly class, and for many thousands of years he ruled the earth well. One day he set out with a whole army to travel through his lands, and came at last to the hermitage of Vasiṣṭha. It was full of trees and deer and birds, and gods and gandharvas came there, and seers who lived on water and on air and on fallen leaves, men who had mastered their anger and their senses, so that the place was like a second world of Brahmā.

Viśvāmitra bowed to Vasiṣṭha, and Vasiṣṭha welcomed him, gave him a seat, and brought him fruit and roots. The king asked after Vasiṣṭha's austerity, his sacred fires and his disciples, and Vasiṣṭha asked after the king's kingdom, his servants, his treasury, his allies and his sons, and they talked a long time with great pleasure. Then Vasiṣṭha said, smiling, I would like to give a feast for you and your army. Viśvāmitra said, You have done enough already with your fruit and roots and water and the sight of you. I will go now. Look on me with friendship. But Vasiṣṭha pressed him again and again, and at last the king said, As you wish.

Then Vasiṣṭha called his spotted cow. Come, Śabalā, quickly, he said. I mean to feast this royal sage and his army. Shower me everything for the feast, food of the six tastes, drink, things to lick and to suck, heaps of grain. The cow of plenty brought forth whatever anyone wanted: sugarcane and honey, parched grain and fine wines, precious drinks and foods of every kind, mountains of hot rice, sweet dishes and soups, rivers of curd, thousands of vessels of sweets. The whole army of Viśvāmitra was fed and content.

Then Viśvāmitra said, You have honoured me well, brahmin. Hear what I have to say. Give me Śabalā for a hundred thousand cows. She is a jewel, and jewels belong to the king. By dharma she is mine.

Vasiṣṭha said, I will not give Śabalā for a hundred thousand cows, or for a hundred crores, or for heaps of silver. She is as much a part of me as fame is of a man who has mastered himself. On her depend my offerings to the gods and to the ancestors and my very life, my sacred fire, my offerings and oblations, the calls of svāhā and vaṣaṭ that go with them, and all my learning. She is all I have, and she is my joy. For many reasons I will not give her to you.

Viśvāmitra grew angrier and offered more: fourteen thousand elephants with golden trappings, eight hundred golden chariots with white horses and bells, eleven thousand fine horses, a crore of cows, and as much gold and jewels as Vasiṣṭha wished. Give me Śabalā, he said. And Vasiṣṭha said, I will not give her for anything. She is my jewel, my wealth, all I have, my life. My new-moon and full-moon rites, my sacrifices with their gifts, all my rites have her at their root. What more is there to say? I will not give you the cow of plenty.