Complete Shakuntala Second Part Continued.

Dear Readers: here is my continuation of the second part of Shakuntala's story from the drama by Kalidasa, India's greatest Sanskrit poet, submitted for your approval.

Adventures of King Dushyant in the Golden Mountains of Kailash

In our last episode, we saw the heroic nature of King Dushyant. Concluding the battle they flew in winged chariots to a mystic golden mountain, the abode of King Kuvera, god of wealth, where Kasyapa does his penance. Matali, charioteer of the gods, did reverence to the Lord Kashyapa. His chariot glided in the air until they found the ashram of that great saint. Arriving there they found pools of nectar and sacred groves in a sylvan landscape known to future generations as the legendary Shangrila. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shangri-La 

"Our wheels are nearly touching the earth," Kalidasa, Ancient Sanskrit poet describing the descent of an aircraft

"We have reached our destination," Said Matali, charioteer to the gods. "Our wheels are nearly touching the earth." And indeed the chariot wheels were only a hair's breadth from land.  "We do not bump the fragile grass beneath our wheels, but we have reached the sage's hermitage. His wife, Aditi tends the coral trees."

Could "Shangrila" refer to the ancient ashramas of Mt. Kailash?

"All honor to Kayshapa," Dushyant said,"who mortifies his flesh so terribly,"
"Descend, O King."
"And you, my friend?"
"I will alight with you and leave our air- chariot, which follows my voice commands. I too descend."

"the air-chariot follows my voice commands" Kalidas, 5th century

And as they walked along through groves where holy hermits led their lives of self-abnegation, they marveled at the holy places there. The air was rich; the oxygen they breathed seemed permeated with herbs and life-giving minerals. 

Tibetan yogis

Some believe that ancient yogis there survived on holy water and on air.

Breatharian yogi meditating on Paramatma

Dushyant said, "Never in my travels as a king have I beheld such wonders or such a fair land as this. Unless I cast my memory back to Kanva's ashram, where Shakuntala dwelled. 

Shakuntala at Kanva's ashram 

Her hair black as the bumblebee, her eyes as blue as twin Himalayan lakes. But here they bathe religiously in pools where pink and golden lotuses flourish. Their humble abodes adorned with shining jewels whose light illuminates the night when no moon shines are emblems of their chastity and peace. Look there between those flowering trees where nymphs of heaven roam unashamed. They mortify desire and sin with chastity and harmony and spiritual peace. O Matali, charioteer of the gods, What is this place?"

Mountain lake

Matali replied, "It is a place of high ideals. The greatest souls have higher aspirations. And here there is no sense of exploitation, but all who live here meditate and pray. Their simple lives of devotion are examples to us all. Even Indra in heaven wishes to come here to this holy place of peace, to leave behind the cares and woes of kings."

King Indra

They walked until they came upon the ancient, Shakalya. Matali approached him and asked, "O wise one, we have come from far away on pilgrimage to see the holy sage Kashyapa. Is he receiving visitors, good man?"

"You must wait a fitter moment for your visit," said the wise Shakalya

And Shakalya said, "Aditi is questioning him on the nature of reality and metaphysics, ethics and the duties of a faithful wife. You must wait a fitter moment for your visit."
Matali said, "Thank you for your kindness." And turning to the king, he said, "Wait here Dushyant. I will see about our visit to my lord Indra's grandfather, the sage Kashyapa. And Matali went with Shakalya, deeper into the woods, to arrange the time.

Grove of ashoka trees

So it was that Dushyant found himself alone in the shade of an ashoka tree. And to the tree he said, "How strange; I feel a throbbing in my arm. This is a welcome omen. Some good luck will befall me."
And sheltered in the grove of ashoka trees, he heard a voice. It was a boy, at play.
The boy said, "Come here! That's it. No! Come back. Good boy. Now down! Down I say!"


Dushyant could not contain his curiosity. What games would children in these green woods? And spying around a tree he saw a boy. The child was playing with his pets, two lion cubs, rubbing their necks and dragging them by the tails. Wrestling the lioncubs to the ground and impugning them with his words. "Come here! Good girl." The boy played all kinds of tricks on the lion-cubs, who bared their teeth and growled. Two nursemaids appeared from the woods out of breath, as if chasing the little boy. They kept their distance from the lion cubs out of respect, but all the same approached him, worried at his little games with ferocious cats.

lion cubs at play

Holding the bigger cub's jaws with both hands and prying them apart, the boy said, "Open your mouth, I want to count your teeth." The lion pawed him.
Now this boy couldn't have been more than five or six years old. 

Had it really been so long without Shakuntala? The war campaign in the clouds was calculated according to the time of the gods. There was no telling how long he had been at war and away from home. But now this boy's voice was tugging at his heartstrings. 

"You naughty boy," said the nurse. "You wait until I tell your mother. We'll see how she likes this."
But there was something about the boy that struck the king in the heart. 
"And if you don't let that little cub go, her mother the lionness will certainly chastise you. She will spring at you and eat you."
"I'm so scared," said the little boy with golden hair, sticking his tongue out at the nurse.
The king smiled and thought, "This golden boy is the spark of a fire which when it grows will burn a wild conflagration. What passion! He reminds me of myself.
And from his hiding place behind the ashoka tree, the king saw the second nurse speaking sweet words to the boy.
"Let him go," she said, "And I'll give you this shiny ball. But this is for big boys. Only little boys play with pets."
"Where is it? Let me see!" said the boy, holding the lion's tail in his left hand and extending the palm of his right hand.

The boy played with lion cubs

And Dushyant in his curiosity focused his eyes on the little boys palm. What he saw astounded him. "Just see!" said the king to himself. "A blushing lotus opening to the morning sun is the very design of royalty that stamps his infant palm. This boy is not the son of humble stages. He is the very heir to India's throne!"
The ladies argued how to tame the child.  "Where's my ball!" he said, and understood their game. Meanwhile the lion cub had loosed his tail and ran off in the woods to join his mother. "Where's my ball?" the imperious golden boy cried again. And the nurses made excuses and went for toys.
"This boy plays on my heartstrings as an expert minstrel plays the vina," thought the king. "How strange that children with their rude voices conjure such music. Fathers find charm even in their dirty little feet." And taking his opportunity, now the boy was alone, King Dushyant emerged from his hiding place.
"Boy!" he said. "I am King Dushyant. I was coming through these words here and heard you shouting at your nurse. I think you must be the son of some saint or holy man. At your age you should know better than that. What would your father say?"

Holy man of India meditating by lotus pond

Just then the nurses returned and saw the king. "His father? But he's not the son of any hermit here."
"So it would seem," said the king. "I'm quite astonished at his conduct."
The nurses stared at the king. "I'm sorry. Did you hear me, maid?"

In a grove of Ashoka trees

"Of course," said the bolder of the two. "But I'm astonished at the resemblance."
"Resemblance?"
"Why yes, of course. The boy resembles you in every way."
"What is his family?"
"Well, he is said to come in the line of Puru."
"But this is my line. I am descended from the great King Puru."

"I am from the line of Puru? But his mother?"

"That's right, sir, the line of Puru. His father was a great king who went to war and left him when he was only a boy. And his mother...."
"His mother?"
With this, the boy threw his arms around the nurse's sturdy leg. "Where's my mother!" he cried.

"Where's my mother!"

"Just a moment," said the nurse. "Your nanny went for your mother. She's coming back."
"Quite right, sir. His mother was the daughter of a nymph and bore her son here in the holy sanctuary of the gods."
Dushyant smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "And what was the name of this king, the one who went to war?"
"I'm sure everyone has forgotten how to pronounce it. Anyway why would anyone vibrate his name? He abandoned and rejected his true wife. But here comes nanny with his toy."

Toy "Shakuntha" Bird.