He sighed. He cried. He groaned.
He groaned and cried and sighed. Every one near him tried his or her
best to remove the remorse that gripped his heart tight, and grief that
enveloped him thick. Fruitless!
He was a picture of
soka-sorrow and it affected his kith and kin.
Just then the news of
Upagupta, a far-famed Buddhist monk, passing through Pataliputra reached his
ears. It soothed him at once. He felt bathed in nectar. He saw then a
shaft of serene light descending straight upon him from above. He sent for
him, and awaited his arrival eagerly.
Upagupta came. Surveyed him
from top to toe. Examined his ailment. Diagnosed the disease. And lo! it was an imperial
malaise, unknown to any emperor in the past, nor was there a doctor familiar
with the pathology of such disease. Sure, no monarch will ever fall victim to such strange disease.
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