The Gold That Fell on Ayodhya

King Raghu had just finished the Vishvajit, the sacrifice of the conqueror of all, at which a king gives away everything he has. His treasury was empty. Even the gold cups were gone.

That was the day Kautsa came to him. He was a young Brahmin who had finished his studies with the sage Varatantu, and he had come to ask for the money to pay his teacher.

Raghu came out to meet him with water for his feet in a clay pot, because there was no other kind left. He gave him a seat of grass, folded his hands, and asked after everything at the hermitage.

"Is your teacher well? Are the trees you planted growing, the ones that give you shade after work? Do the deer have their fawns in safety? Is the water good for bathing?"

Kautsa looked at the clay pot and understood. "Everything is well there," he said. "But I have come at the wrong time. You look like a stalk of wild rice after the foresters have taken the grain. There is no shame in that kind of poverty; the moon is thinnest after the gods have drunk from it. I will go and ask someone else. The chataka bird does not beg rain from an autumn cloud that has already given its water."

"What is the fee?" asked Raghu. "How much does your teacher want?"

Kautsa told him. When his studies were over, his teacher had asked for nothing; Kautsa's devotion was fee enough. But Kautsa had kept insisting until the old man lost his patience. "Then bring me fourteen crores," Varatantu had said. "One for each of the fourteen kinds of knowledge I taught you."

"A learned man came to Raghu for his teacher's fee and went away to look for another giver," said the king. "That would be a new shame in my family, and I will not have it. Stay two or three days in my fire house, as a fourth fire beside the three I keep, while I find it."

Kautsa agreed. Raghu looked at the earth and saw that he had already taken from it all it could give. So he decided to take the money from Kubera, the lord of wealth, who lives on Kailasa.

His chariot could go anywhere, over the sea, through the sky and across mountains, because the sage Vasishtha had sprinkled it with water and spells. That evening Raghu had it loaded with weapons and slept in it, to be off at first light. He thought of Kubera as one more lord to be brought into line.

In the morning, as he was getting ready to set out, the keepers of his treasury came running, amazed. In the night, they said, gold had rained out of the sky into the middle of the treasure house.

Raghu gave all of it to Kautsa, a heap that shone like a peak of Mount Meru broken off by a thunderbolt. Kautsa wanted only his fee; the king wanted him to take the lot. The people of Ayodhya praised them both.

The gold went away on a hundred camels and mares. Before he left, Kautsa laid his hand on the bowed king's back and blessed him. "May you have a son as good as yourself." The son was born in time, and his name was Aja.

In Maharashtra the story is told on Dasara, and it goes further than Kalidasa does.

Kautsa finished his studies with the sage Varatantu and would not leave until his teacher named a fee. "Fourteen crores of gold coins, then," the sage said, "one for each of the sciences," thinking that would end the matter.

King Raghu had nothing left to give, so he made ready to go to war with heaven for the gold. Narada heard of it and warned Indra, and Indra came down to ask the king what the war was for. When he heard, he sent for Kubera.

That night Kubera rained gold coins on the apta and shami trees outside the walls of Ayodhya. Raghu sent Kautsa out to collect them.

Kautsa took the coins to Varatantu. The sage counted out fourteen crores and gave him back the rest, and Kautsa carried the rest back to Raghu. "These are not mine," he said.

"They are not mine either," said Raghu. "A king does not take back what he has given."

Neither man would keep them. So Kautsa went back to the trees where the gold had fallen, set it all down under them, and told the people of the city to come and take it. That was the tenth day of the bright half of Ashvin, Vijayadashami.

That is why, on Dasara evening, people in Maharashtra go out past the edge of the village, pick apta leaves, and bring them home as gold. They give them to their elders and friends with the words "Sona ghya, sonyasarkha raha": take this gold, and stay as good as gold. The custom is called sona lutne, looting the gold.