Hindu Love Story Chapter 2: Nala and Damayanti

नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्

 देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्

महाभरत

Mahābharata

As retold by

Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi

Nala and Damayanti

Damayanti and the Golden Swan

As quickly as Nala had appeared, he disappeared in the night. And by and by the appointed hour came.

The svayamvara of Damayanti was held at the sacred hour of the holy lunar day. Kings and princes rode forth ready to compete in mortal combat. The suitors came fro far and wide. Some were richly dressed with silk robes, garlands, gold and jeweled earrings. Others wore helmets, chain-mail, and swords. These were robust nobles arms as strong as iron battle-maces.  Their piercing eyes were like those of vipers. Rich, poweful, and handsome, these well-made men made their entrance like hungry lions eager for the chase, their strong jaws framed with brilliant locks of golden hair. There were noble heads with fine noses and the eyes and brows of kings. These princes and fierce warriors had come from far-off lands eager to find a bride in Damayanti the fair. As they joined the assembly they were given sitting places according to their status; they sat on thrones of silver and gold and inlaid wood awaiting their chance to compete in arms and court the beauteous young maid whose name was on everyone’s lips. As the wide river Bhogavatī is filled with snakes, as the mountain caves of the Himalayas are filled with tigers, so the wide assembly hall was filled with  kings and princes. 

And at the appointed hour, the fair Damayanti, princess of Vidarbha made her entrance, dressed in the finest silk, crowned with a silver tiara, her sweet glances burning fire into the hearts of the warriors assembled there. Bright as the moon she dazzled the kings and princes who were stunned to their souls.

Her radiance shined like the sun as she glanced about the arena looking for her champion.  

“Where is Nala?” she thought.

But as she looked from one proud king to another, searching the face of Nala in the crowd of illustrious warriors, she could not see him anwhere.

She stood and smiled as the names of the kings were proclaimed. Each prince was named and his turn was called. Each stood and smiled, ready to challenge the others in feats of combat if necessary. 

But as their names were called, Damayanti lowered her eyes and said nothing. Bewildered by this rejection, each prince sat down again restless in his place, awaiting the final decision of this proud maiden.

 And as Damayanti looked among the throng of gathered princes, finally she saw Nala.

Nala her beloved. Nala the king of Vishadha. Nala the brave gallant who had scaled the garden wall. Nala the prince who had enchanted her 100 virgin handmaids in the pale moonlight of the ashoka grove.

But as she looked, she rubbed her eyes. There was Nala, her beloved. But instead of one Nala, there were five.

Did her eyes deceive her? Seated before her were five Nalas, each more Nala than the last. There were five identical Nalas. And finally her eyes found among those princes present a group of five individuals who all appeared exactly like Nala.

She remembered the words that Nala had spoken in the garden. 

His message: “Oh beautiful maiden of virgin grace, My name is Nala. I am here as the messenger of gods. Your beauty has enchanted the lords of heaven. The gods are enchanted by you, and you must choose between them. All of them are here to compete for your hand at your swayaṃvara. There is Indra, god of thunder, Agni, god of fire, Varuna, god of rivers, and the lord of death, Yama himself.  By their mystic power I was able to enter here without alarming the guards. And so it is that I have been sent here by the gods. Now that you know that your hand is desired by the gods themselves, do what you see fit. They desire to possess you. You must choose one of them at your wedding contest.”

Gods at the swayamvara of Damayanti: Clones of Nala

Damayanti was baffled. “Choose one of them at your wedding contest.” Of course. The gods knew of her love for Nala. They knew that she had planned to choose the King o Vidarbha as her husband. The gods themselves, envious of the beauty of her beloved, were impersonating Nala. Sitting before her disguised as Nala were Indra, Agni, Yamaraja, and Varuna, who had taken the very form of Nala.

The crown princes of India were present, as were nobles and warriors from throughout the land. They followed the glance of Damayanti. Who were these mysterious suitors? They were perfectly alike. Which of the five suitors would she choose?

Damayanti could not tell them apart. She looked from one to another, studying their faces, but each version of Nala smiled impassively, revealing nothing with their eyes. Four of them were gods. Only one was Nala himself. If she chose a god, she would be bound to him for life. If she chose Indra, she would be queen of the heavens, consort of the lord of thunder and rain. 

But she didn’t want a heavenly kingdom, she only wanted her earthly love for Nala, her prince. 

The wide hall sat in silence. 

The name “Nala, the King of Nishadha,” was announced.

The five Nalas rose from the silver thrones where they sat and stood before her with folded hands.

Damayanti kept looking from one to another.  She prayed to Vishnu for guidance. She offered worship mentally and tried to see things more deeply. How could she choose? Four of these Nalas were copies, an illusion created by gods. One was Nala, a mere mortal. 

She thought, “I must study carefully. The gods are perfect.  Nala is imperfect. The gods are immortal. Nala is mortal.” Again she prayed to Vishnu within her heart. “ O Lord, reveal to me the imperfect form of my beloved. The gods are faultless, but he has must have some faults. Sharpen my vision. Let me see.”

All were quiet as Damayanti, trancelike, studied the five young men, each more alike than the last. 

Her eyes began to focus. She noticed that one of the five perfect men cast a shadow in the dust. Indeed the dust covered his feet. His feet stood firmly on the earth. His flower garland, so perfect at first, had faded slightly with the heat of the sun. The roses round his neck had wilted. A few petals had fallen to the ground. His eyes intent with passion were fixed, but trembled slightly. He blinked. A fine perspiration stained his brow.

She looked again from one to the other. The others were too perfect. She noticed their feet. Their perfect lotus feet floated slightly above the earth, untouched by the dust. They cast no shadow upon the earth. No dust stained their garments. She noticed the flowers of their garlands. The lotuses were perfect. The roses shed no petals, nor did they wilt. Their perfect brows showed no perspiration. She studied their lotus-like eyes. They never blinked. Their gaze was fixed and perfect. 

But one of these was mortal. His feet touched the ground. His brow strained with sweat against the noonday sun. With fading garlands, garments stained with dust, he cast a clear shadow on the ground. 

The gods had played a cruel trick by impersonating the man she loved, but one of the five suitors was definitely mortal: Her Nala. She looked at him and smiled. She would not be fooled even by the magic of the gods.

And so Damayanti, the virtuous daughter of Bhima, stepped forward and chose her champion. Smiling, she lightly took the hem of his garment in her lotus hand while  throwing the ceremonial floral garland around his shoulders. She turned before the crowd.

“This man I choose, before the gods and the assembled kings. He is Nala, King of Vidarbha.”

Many of the suitors felt cheated and cried, “No! This cannot be! Choose me!” and “Alas! This is a fraud!” While from that conclave of kings many shouted, “Hurray!” and “Well-done!” “Damayanti ki Jai!” 

Nala raised his hand for silence. And when he could be heard he said,  “O Damayanti, you might have chosen a god. You could have been queen of heaven taking one of these as your husband. I am no god, but a mere mortal. And yet with all my faults you have chosen me, in the presence of the gods. And since you have chosen a mortal for your husband, take this faithful vow: O maiden with the serene smile, I shall be yours in love as long as spirit fills this body. I say so truthfully before the gods and kings assembled here.”

With this, the gods revealed themselves : Indra, lord of the rain; Agnideva, the fire-god; Yama, Death himself, and Varuna, god of waters, lakes, and rivers. All rejoiced and were amazed. 

At that time the gods blessed Nala with eight mystic gifts: The power to see the divine in the mystic sacrifice, and the physical power of grace was given by Indra. The power to invoke fire by mantra whenever he pleased was given to Nala by Agni as well as his own fiery character. The Lord of death, Yama awarded Nala with a fine discernment and taste in the culinary arts as well as eminent virtue, a deep understanding of dharma. While Varuṇa gifted Nala with with the power to conjure water whenever and wherever needed as well as garlands of matchless fragrance. 

Each god having doubly blessed Nala and his beloved Damayanti. And having given their blessings,  the gods called for their airships. One by one, Agni, Indra, Varuna, and Yama all departed for their celestial homes.

The great king Bhima, lord of Vidarbha solemnized the nuptials with a great wedding ceremony attended by all the kings and princes present who promised to honor the decision of the gods.

And so it was that Nala and Damayanti were married.

Nala rejoiced, having won the pearl of women for his own. In due course He brought Damayanti to his home in Naishadha having received permission from her father the great king Bhima. 

And so it was that Nala and Damayanti passed their days in joy in Nala’s palace and ruled the kingdom of Vidarbha. They played at love in many a green forest and romantic woods and groves and soon Damayanti delivered him a son named Indrasena, and a daughter, also named Indrasena. Time passed and King Nala ruled the earth in riches and splendour with his queen the beautiful Damayanti.

But when the gods were returning to their heavens they an envious supernatural being, Kali. 

He was on the road to Vidarbha with Dwapara. And when the gods inquired, “Where are you going, Kali?” He replied, “I am going to Vidarbha with Dwapara to the svayamvara of Damayanti.” 

And the gods headed by Indra told him, “Haven’t you heard? The swayaṃvara  is finished. She has already chosen. She chose this mortal in front of us. Even now she is being married to Nala.”

And Kali said, “This is an outrage. How could she choose before the great Kali had arrived. For this offence, I curse her. And Nala. Damayanti is accursed and shall suffer. I shall have my revenge.”

But the gods said, “Be careful of your curses. We gods have sanctioned this union. Cursed be he that causes them any mischief.”

But Kali continued on his way with Dwapara, resolved to destroy Nala.  He spied on the wedding ceremony and saw that he was too late.  And so Kali followed them to the kingdom of Nala, determined to have his revenge.  

Nala and Damayanti

Kali and the Dice

 By and by Damayanti had two children: a daughter, Indrasena, and a son, Indrasen. Nala ruled his kingdom with a fair hand and practiced the Vedic sacrifices. There was abundance in the land.

But Kali roamed the kingdom of the Nishadha’s waiting for his chance. Now this Kali was kind of Gandharva, evil in character, dark and sinister in every way. This dogfaced devil was coal-black with a huge tongue. The pestilent stench of rotting meat pervading his flesh. Kali had to power to possess men’s souls. He would enter into them and provoke them to sinful acts. Even today Kali’s influence is felt, for this is his age, Kali-yuga. He is present wherever there is meat-eating, intoxication, illicit sex, and gambling. He stands against any religious principles, especially austerity, cleanliness, mercy, and truthfulness. The envious Kali delights in promoting war, envy, hatred and lies. He was born in a long line of monsters from lust and incest. He was the son of Krodha, Anger, and his sister, Violence.  And as his influence becomes more and more profound, mankind itself is cast into the abyss of anger, violence and sin. Slaughterhouses, children bearing arms, and the destruction of the planet are all aspects of Kali’s influence. Alas for Nala, the satanic Kali plotted Nala’s ruin. He entered into the land of Nishadha and began observing King Nala, waiting for his opportunity to enter into him, for Kali was a powerful supernatural being who could enter into the body of a man who had committed a sin and control his spirit, further corrupting him. 

But Nala was without sin. Kali watched and waited for his opportunity, hiding himself by becoming invisible. He bided his time, haunting the palace where Nala ruled. And as a ghost he followed Nala, day and night for 12 long years.  Some say that Kali-yuga lasts 12,000 years, and that the 12 years time the Pandavas must spend in the forest reflects a fraction of this time.

Finally, his time came. One day Nala went to perform his worship without having washed his feet. He was in an unclean state, and yet, so contaminated, performed his worship. Kali saw his chance.  He seized the moment. Entering Nala’s  body, Kali’s spirit infected that great king with his influence. 

Now that King Nala had been infected by the spirit of Kali he suffered under his power. He was no longer himself. He began to miss his morning prayers. He became forgetful of his pious activities. He no longer invited the saints to discuss with him the deep meaning of the scriptures. He gradually sank into ignorance.

And now that Nala was under his influence, Kali left him for a time. In order to fulfill his plan for revenge, Kali had bound him in a spell of discord, and as Nala was under his spell, the demon Kali himself left Nala’s physical body for a time. 

In order to further his plans of vengeance against Nala, Kali went to another king, Pushkara, who was Nala’s brother and ruled in another part of Nishadha. He brought Pushkara under his influence by playing on his greed and envy. He promised Pushkara an easy victory in gambling against Nala. He said, “Invite Nala to play dice with you. Have no fear, for my power shall enter into the dice and determine the outcome. Bet any stakes you like. I shall make the game look sporting, but in the end you will surely defeat him. In this way, you can win his kingdom and all his wealth. You shall rule both Nishadha and Vidarbha as the uncontested King of all the realm.” 

With flattery, lies and sweet words Kali brought Pushkara under his influence. Kali left him and returned to Vishadha where Nala dwelled, falling gradually deeper under his spell. Kali possessed him entirely and brought him under his control. 

Pushkara passed many sleepless nights thinking of the vast fortune that awaited him. All he needed to do was throw the dice with his brother. He waited a certain time and then arranged to visit Nala.

Arriving in Vishadha, Pushkara was welcomed by Nala with all the hospitality at his disposal.

“My brother,” he said. “It gives me such great pleasure that you have visited me after such a long time. Stay with me here in my Palace and we can rule together.”

“I am not qualified for such an honor,” said Pushkara, “but let us pass some time together.

And in the evening as they sat admiring the sunset, Pushkara spoke to Nala as follows:

“You are expert in so many things, my brother: Horses, women, food, and even gaming at dice. But this evening I see my lucky star even now in the heavens. I’m feeling lucky. Let’s have a game of dice. You, of course, are far more expert. But I think this is my lucky day.”

Nala said, “My gaming days are over. Now that I am married I have so many responsibilites. It’s not a good idea. Let’s have some other entertainment.”

With this, Damayanti entered with he handmaids and resfreshments. 

“How wonderful that your brother has come to visit,” she said. “If you like I shall have the court musicians play.”

And Pushkara said, “We were just about to have a sporting game of dice.”

Nala smiled. “Well, if you insist on losing, let’s play fro friendly stakes,” he said. He clapped his hands. A servant appeared. “Bring the gaming tables and the dice.” He said.

The tables were laid for dice, fine carpets and pillows were set out. Drinks were brought. The two brothers settled in to play. And as they played, the king’s ministers joined them, interested in the game. Even the residents of the palace and townspeople came out to see the play.  They sat quietly as the two brothers roled the dice.

“You go first,” said Nala, gallantly, although he was now fully possessed by Kali.

“What stakes shall we lay?” Said Pushkara.

“Let’s play for friendly stakes. I wager a bowl of rice.”

“Done,” said Pushkara.

They threw the dice and Pushkara lost.

“You see,” said Nala. “It’s not your lucky night after all. Let’s have the musicians, then.”

“You must let me have my revenge,” said Pushkara. “Let’s wager a sack of rice.”

“Very well,” said Nala.

They threw the dice again. Again Pushkara lost.

“Where’s your luck now?” said Nala, enjoying himself.

“Well, perhaps the stars need a better wager. Instead of rice, I’ll wager silver on the next throw.”

“Suit yourself, my brother,” said Nala.

At this point Nala was fully under Kali’s influence. Kali no longer needed to possess him fully. The demonic Kali left Nala and entered into the dice. They threw the dice again.

“I win.” Said Pushkara. “Perhaps this is my lucky night.”

“Skill will beat luck.” Said Nala, “Let’s throw again.”

“My chariot against yours.” Said Pushkara.

And so Nala began to bet and lose. He lost his chariots, his silver and then they played for stakes of raw and refined gold, wagons, elephants, teams of horses, and silk clothes. Nala became crazed by the thrill of the dice. The people watched in horror as he began to lose everything. He couldn’t stop. He lost his wealth throw after throw. But on and on they played, until Nala had lost everything.

They played long into the night, and Nala would sometimes win enough of his wealth back that he would get his hopes up and make even more extravagant wagers in a mad attempt to win everything back. And then he would lose again.

The game went on. 

They played day after day. The townspeople stood in amazement. The king’s counsellors came and advised the king it was time to stop his foolishness, but under Kali’s influence Nala could not stop.

The ministers told the king that they had important business; the games should be suspended. The people were becoming impatient with the corruption of their king.  And Damayanti, besides herself with worry, told Nala it was time to stop with his vice. 

But Nala, inflamed by the gambling madness had lost everything. He was stunned by his constant defeats. He would listen to no counsel but played on and on. Damayanti, understanding that Nala’s madness would lead to ruin, sent her children with Nala’s trusted charioteer to the kingdom of Vidarbha and her father, Bhima.

After Pushkara had won everything from Nala, they played for his kingdom and all his lands. Again he lost. And when Nala had nothing further to lose, Pushkara said, “What are the stakes now? All you have left is the lovely Damayanti. Very well. Let us play for her. Let’s be fair. I stake everything you have lost against the fair Damayanti. If you win, you win everything back. If I win, I take Damayanti.”

But Nala had had enough. He looked Pushkar in the eye as he stripped off his silk garments and fine ornaments until he was dressed only in a loincloth. Laying his clothes in a pile before the greedy king, he said, “Take your winnings,” and left the court. 

He walked to the palace gates and kept walking. Leaving the city, he set out for the forest. There he spent three nights with his wife. But the cruel Pushkar gave a royal decree. “Nala is exiled. Any and all who show him any attention or help shall be condemned to death, effective immediately.”

And so, O Yudhisthira, Nala was exiled to the forest. The  citizens abandoned him. They neither gave him refuge nor offered him hospitality, but closed their doors to the king.  He was left to starve in the forest with only his loincloth to protect him from the cold. 

Nala and Damayanti

Exiled

Brihad Aswa continued,

"O Yudhisthira: You who lost your kingdom to the dice. Hear me as I speak the story of Nala, a king who also lost everything.

"As the gaming went on Damayanti took the precaution of sending the children in a swift chariot  guided by Varshneya to Vidarbha and shelter with her father, King Bhima.

"Meanwhile the dice did Pushkara’s bidding as Nala lost again and again...

Finally, the  noble Nala, infected by the spirit of Kala, had lost everything. Pushkara smiled, “What can you stake now, Nala? I would have you win everything back. It is not fair that you have lost so much. Stake the fair Damayanti as your wager and let us throw the dice again.”

But Nala’s heart was broken. Even under the influence of Kali, he could not go so far. 

“Then if you cannot stake anything further, go.” Said Pushkara. “This is no longer your kingdom. Leave and enter exile. I command you as the King of Vishadha, which is now mine.”

Stripped of his fine dress and ornaments, Nala left that place. And so it was, O Yudhisthira, that Nala was exiled to the forest. He wandered half-naked, dazed, covered only with a loincloth. Possessed by the spirit of Kali, desolate and ruined, he wandered in a fog.

The  citizens abandoned him. They wanted no part of a mad king who would gamble his riches away. No one followed him into the forest to bid him farewell.

As the mad and forlorn king wandered away, Pushkara, Vishadha’s new ruler issued laws against his brother. Whoever helped him or gave him succour would do so on the pain of death.

Whoever offered Nala food or shelter would be condemned before a tribunal and put to death or imprisoned. 

And so the citizens neither gave him refuge nor offered him hospitality, but closed their doors to Nala, the fallen king.

Only Damayanti followed him. Dressed in only her sari, Damayanti slowly followed him from a distance. She could understand that he was in the grip of some madness, but could not desert him in his hour of need.

Nala was exiled. His brother ordered him to live in the wilderness, where his citizens left him to starve with only his loincloth to protect him from the cold. Pushkar had imprisoned Nala’s friends. His reign of terror had begun.  None dared defy the tyrant’s power.

For three nights Nala wandered, followed by the faithful Damayanti. With only water to drink, they began to starve. They ate leaves and herbs, fruits and the roots of the earth.  Outcast and doomed, dying of hunger, after some days Nala saw two strange birds, big as eagles, gold in color.  The influence of Kali inspired him to the hunt. And thinking, “This is my chance. We must eat. I can trap them in my cloth,” He stalked his prey and using his loincloth as a net cloth, threw it over the birds.  

But suddenly the twin golden birds took his cloth in their beaks and rose in the sky.  As they carried away his cloth the birds laughed. They said, “O fallen and miserable king, know that we are the dice you played with. We have taken this form to steal your cloth. You lost all to us, and so we also take your cloth. Our joy at victory was incomplete as long as you were clothed. Stripped of your cloth may you die of hunger and cold, naked and abandoned in this forest.”

As the golden birds flew away with his cloth, Nala was Nala turned to Damayanti and said, “O blameless Damayanti: I am condemned. Damned to die of hunger in the forest. Leave me.”

Nala hung his head and covered his face with his hands. Struggling against the influence of Kali, he said, “I am cursed by the gods. I was foolish to defy their will. I have offended the gods and now they want revenge. Abandon me to my fate. Deprived me of my wealth and kingdom my enemies are leaving me  to die in shame in the forest. I cannot help myself. Even the birds steal my garments.You must go. Leave me to my fortune.”

He pulled himself together and stood up straight, shaking off the demon’s spirit for a moment. He said,

“Hear me, princess and profit from my loss.”

As night began to fall in the forest, Nala pointed through the trees to the south.

 “O Princess, there is the path to the south, passing by the city of Avantī.”

He gestured towards the east: “Rikshavān is that way; there is the mighty Vindhya mountain where the hermits dwell and there the river Payoshṇī that runs to the sea.”

He pointed to the west where the sun was just kissing the horizon. “This is the way to Kośala. Go along the path and you will find the road to Vidarbha. Take the road to Vidarbha, pass through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains and return home to your loving father, the great king Bhima. Leave me to my fate, to die alone and starving, forlorn, cursed and doomed by the gods.”

Exhausted, Nala sat beneath a large and knotted banyan tree covered with hideous strangler vines as the birds fell silent. Darkness began to envelop the forest.

Damayanti stood before the fallen king. She heard the screech of an owl. Soon the creatures of the night would begin to prowl in search of prey. In a voice choked with grief, she said, “O Nala. My heart flutters like a wounded sparrow. O once proud king. How have you come to this? Perhaps it is true what people say; you are possessed by some dark demon who has led you to this fate. 

“My Nala. My throat is dry. I have no words. I would break into tears, but starved for drink, no water comes to my eyes.  Robbed of kingdom and riches, naked, thirst-worn and hungry, you are speaking like a madman. Before the gods I bestowed the garland upon you. When even Indra and the Lord of Death wooed me, I chose you. How shall I abandon you now to starve to death in the dark forest, cursed by the gods?”

“For a man in sorrow and distress there is no friend or medicine like a good wife. How can I go and leave you alone and naked in the woods to die of hunger?”

“Come. Let us go to my father. He will give us shelter. He will welcome you as the great king you are.”

Now the forest was dark. Now that the sun had gone, the cool moon had risen and chill began to enter the earth. 

“No. I cannot.” Said Nala. “For one who has been honored, dishonor is worse than death. How can I appear before him in my present condition. Look at me. I don’t have so much as a cloth to cover my nakedness. Your father saw me at my noblest hour, and now I am miserable.”

“Come. Live with me and be my king in my home in Vidarbha. Our children have already gone there, led by our brave charioteer, Varshneya. There you can gather your allies together and march against the usurper. Defeating your brother, you can regain the kingdom.”

“No. I must meet my true fate here. Whether I am cursed by the gods or no. For if the gods are angry, neither you nor your father shall escape their wrath.”

“Then I cannot abandon you. We shall meet our fate together. The gods were once pleased with me; perhaps they shall be again.”

Nala was moved. “And I shall never abandon you, my Princess,” he said. He leaned his shoulder against the great banyan tree, supporting himself on one elbow. He spoke slowly, his tongue thick. “I may be mad, or possessed by demons. I cannot say why I was impelled to game at dice. I may be cursed by the gods or driven by some devil, but I shall never abandon my love for you.”

Nala’s eyes rolled back, he was losing consciousness.

“Fear not that I would ever leave you, fair Damayanti. You are right: there is no medicine like a good wife. I might abandon my kingdom and even lose myself to madness, but I shall never leave you. I give you my word.”

The chill of the evening had set in. Nala was exhausted. He had passed out.  Damayanti laid his head carefully on a root of the generous banyan tree. And, taking pity on her fallen lord, she tore the hem of her silken sari and wrapped Nala in half of her garment, that the cold would not chill him to death. 

And so barely clad in only half a garment each the great and handsome king of Vishadha and the princess who had been sought by the gods slept in the arms of the great banyan tree while tigers stalked the cruel forest of exile. Where they were used to sleeping on feathered cushions and silk pillows, now they had only the roots of a tree for a pillow. They slept with only the hard earth as a bed, half-naked in the mire, stained with dust under the cold moon.

Wild boars slept in the bushes. Even the bears, stags, and other wild creatures that often roamed those woods lay dormant. Damayanti slept quietly, nestled in the arms of Nala, with a root for a pillow with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine as her perfume.

Kali was a demonic spirit. And devils never rest. The spell of Kali was on Nala, who could not sleep. Flying insects stung his face and hands in the dark.  His skin burned, but his conscience burned even more. How had he lost everything? Why was he exiled, when his brother now ruled his kingdom. He burned for revenge. The croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets disturbed his sleep. He tossed and turned. The spirit of Kali would not let him rest. 

And while Damayanti slept on the cold earth, Nala was tormented in his mind by the spirit of Kali. He burned with anger and sorrow. He burned for his lost kingdom and the friends who had so quickly deserted him. Hungry and exhausted, he awoke. 

Sitting up, he felt he was no longer naked. His wife had torn her cloth, giving him half her garment. He bound the cloth around his thighs and glanced about him. As he looked around in the darkness, he could barely make out the forest path. It was West to Vidarbha, through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains. East led deeper into the gloomy forest. His head burned with anger. His entrails burned with hunger and thirst. “What next?” he thought.

Now the spirit of Kali who dwelled within Nala consumed him and inspired him with dark thoughts. “I must go,” Nala thought, “Better for me to leave this place and take the path into the forest. Damayanti will find her way home. If she stays with me in exile it will only be worse for her. Why did I let her follow me?”

He heard a sound. A wild boar passing in the forest? Food. He could hunt. He arose, half-clad, and moved towards the sound. Nothing.

Nala looked at his wife sleeping peacefully. “What if I leave now?” He thought. “Better to go now. She won’t listen to my arguments. She will follow me to my death in exile. It would be selfish of me to allow her to die of starvation here in the forest.”

The sky was gray now; the first light would not be long. Damayanti would awaken. He was resolved to meet his fate in the forest. Return to Vidarbha would only mean public humiliation. Sooner or later Pushkar’s men would hunt him down like an animal. Without allies he was lost. But Damayanti could survive alone. She could go to Vidarbha and live with their children and King Bhima would protect them. Nala took a few steps into the forest.

Nala looked down the path before him. Soon the creatures of the woods would stir. The tigers who roamed the night would awaken their cousins who roam at day. Together they would seek their prey along with bears, wild boars, and other strange animals. And hunger and thirst would diminish their chances of survival. 

“But  which is worse?” he thought,  “To die in exile, abandoned, or to abandon the one I love? How can I abandon the only person who stood by me in shame and exile? She is so devoted to me that she would suffer shame and injury, even death to follow me into oblivion. How can I leave her?”

Possessed by the ghost of the demon Kali, Nala could not think clearly. He reasoned, “Still, even if she hates me, she loves our children. She will seek out her father in Vidarbha. The gods will protect her.  At my side, she is cursed; without me, she may yet survive. Her only chance at survival is if I leave her. The gods wooed her once. They may yet protect her.”

He took a few steps down the path, then turned for a last look at his beloved. His soul was twisted by the influence of Kali. Surely it was a sin to abandon his wife to her destiny in the forest, he thought as his head ached. “And yet, bereft of me, while she shall surely lament, she will no doubt find her father in Vidarbha. As for me, I am doomed to die here. Better for both of us if I go.”

In this way, that wretched king agonized over his decision. “She is my loyal and devoted wife. She defied the gods to choose me and give me the wedding garland. She has great power. Her virtue is so great that none dare harm her, even in this lonely forest.”

Nala’s perverted thought could find no other reasons than those given him by the wicked Kali.  And so by Kali’s influence he left her.

He walked back up the path to where Damayanti lay, sheltered by the Banyan’s roots. And brushing aside a spray of night-blooming jasmine that sheltered her forehead with its fragrance, he kissed her gentle brow. And just beneath his breath Nala said, “Farewell my love. Farewell my faithful. O blessed wife: you who neither sun nor wind has ever marred; whose grace and beauty never fades: you lay sleeping on the cold hard earth for my sins. Half-clad for you have given me half your garment, you have followed me into cruel exile. Go you now to your father. Tell him how unfit I was to father your children. Go and live in peace. Follow me no further into the dark forest, but take the path to Vidarbha.  May the sun and the wind protect you. May the gods who once wooed you as a maiden protect you now as the mother of my children. As you are always chaste, may your virtue protect you now from this savage forest where wild beasts and serpents dwell.”

On bended knee, he leaned over the sleeping Damayanti, smelled her fragrant hair again kissed her on the forehead. Then standing up straight, he walked away.

Leaving that noble Banyan tree with its generous, sheltering roots behind him, Nala began on the path into the depths of the dark woods, bereft of sense, bewildered by the influence of Kali.

And taking two steps forward on the path, he stopped and took a step back. His love for the chaste and virtuous Damayanti dragged him back, but the madness born of the demon Kali once again possessed him and he took the path into darkness, reft of sense. And as he staggered away into the forest, the kokil birds who were awakening to the dawn heard the frantic king moaning in misery as he deserted the sleeping Damayanti. 

Gradually the sun’s rays entered the bower where Damayanti slept in the arms of the old banyan tree. And as the gentle warmth spread through the forest floor, Damayanti awoke, refreshed from her slumber. And yet when she awoke and found that Nala had gone Damayanti was surprised. “Nala?” she said.

“He must have gone to collect fresh herbs and fruits,” she thought. “Nala?” But the forest was silent.