Under a moonless sky King Vikramaditya once more lifted the corpse from the ancient tree onto his shoulder and set off across the cremation ground, true to his word to the yogi. And Betaal, the spirit dwelling in the corpse, whispered merrily: “A tale for the road, O King — but if you know the answer to my riddle and still hold your tongue, your head will shatter into a hundred pieces.”
And Betaal began. “On the banks of the Yamuna lived a brahmin whose daughter, Mandaravati, was gentle, lovely and wise. Three worthy young men sought her hand, and each was so deserving that her father could not choose among them, and kept putting off his answer. But while he delayed, a sudden fierce fever took Mandaravati, and she died. The three young men grieved as if the light had gone out of the world — yet each grieved in his own way. The first built a little hut at the cremation ground and stayed there beside her ashes, day and night, never once leaving. The second gathered her remains and set out on the long road to immerse them in the Ganga at the holy places. The third became a wandering ascetic and walked from land to land.
“In a far country the wanderer came to the ashram of an old sage who knew a mantra that could call the dead back to life. He served the sage faithfully for many days, and at last the sage taught him the sacred words. The young man hurried home, called the other two, and over her ashes at the cremation ground he spoke the mantra with all his heart — and Mandaravati rose, alive and radiant as before. At once all three cried out, ‘She shall be my wife!’”
“Whose wife should she be, King Vikram? Speak, if you know!” And Vikram answered: “He who revived her by the mantra gave her life — that is what a father does, so he is as her father. He who carried her remains to the sacred river performed the last duty — that is what a son does, so he is as her son. But he who stayed beside her ashes, sleeping on the bare earth of the cremation ground, faithful in sorrow with no hope of reward — he alone did what a husband does. She belongs to him.” “Rightly judged!” laughed Betaal. “But you have spoken!” And he flew back to the ancient tree.