Long after the great King Vikramaditya had passed away, his wonderful throne lay buried in a field near Ujjain. When King Bhoja discovered it, he was filled with joy, for the throne was carved with thirty-two beautiful statuettes and shone like the morning sun. He had it placed in his palace, chose a lucky day, and stepped forward to sit upon it.
At once the first statuette came alive and raised her little hand. "Wait, O King!" she said. "This is the throne of Vikramaditya. Only one as noble as he may sit here. Listen first to what kind of king he was."
And she told this tale. One day an old sage came to Vikramaditya's court carrying a golden fruit. "Great king," he said, "the gods granted me this fruit of immortality for my long years of prayer. Whoever eats it will never grow old and never die. I am old and my work is done — but you are just, and your life protects thousands. You should eat it." The whole court held its breath. Never had such a gift been offered to any king.
Vikramaditya took the fruit and looked at it for a long moment. Then he thought: "If I live forever while my people suffer sickness, old age and sorrow, what kind of king would I be? A king's true immortality is not endless life — it is justice, generosity, and the love of his people, which live on after him." Just then the guards brought in a poor Brahmin, weak with illness, who had come begging help for his family. Vikramaditya rose from his throne, placed the fruit of immortality in the poor man's hands along with a bag of gold, and said, "Your family needs your life more than the world needs mine."
The statuette smiled at King Bhoja. "Deathlessness itself was in his hand, O Bhoja, and he gave it away with a glad heart. Tell me truly — could you do the same? If so, ascend the throne." King Bhoja looked at the ground, and quietly stepped back that day.