Shakuntala Final Version No illustrations

SHAKUNTALA

Introduction by Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogī

The story of Shakuntala is related in the Adi Parva of Mahabharata महाभरत, and retold centuries later by the great Sanskrit poet Kālidāsa probably in around the 5th century in his literary play, Abhijñāna-śākuntala, अभिज्ञानशाकुन्तल.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakuntala

Kālidāsa's accomplishment in the composition of this work is indeed masterful, and in the opinion of many great scholars surpasses the original tale in the Mahābharata, both for lyricism and poetry as well as for the depth of his romantic vision.

My own gurudeva, His Divine Grace Bhakti Rakṣaka Śrīdhara Dev Goswāmī, who was known for his erudition in Sanskrit as well as for his philosophical wisdom in Gaudiya Vaishnava siddhānta, particularly loved the poetry of Kālidāsa, representing as it does the best of ancient Indian culture and the highest virtures of Sanskrit drama. While it may be seen by some as merely a fairy tale or romance, the story of Shakuntala not only contains elements of drama far in advance of Shakespeare, but also delineates the moral and religious precepts of ancient India as shown in her mythology and spiritual culture.

The story is often given summary form by story-tellers who cover the basic plot points, redacting severely the poetic sense of the work. In the interest of brevity, I am unable to give full justice to Kalidasa, but have tried to include some of his more lyric turns of phrase.

My particular retelling is a work in progress; I began constructing this version after going through various translations of Mahābhārata, particularly that of Kishori Mohan Ganguli (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/15474/15474-h/15474-h.htm) long considered the most authoritative, for it is the only translation of all 100,000 Sanskrit verses into English.

Of course, the version of Kalidas varies with that of Mahābhārata, and for this I have consulted both the translations made my Monier Monier Williams of Sanskrit dictionary fame as well as that of Arthur Ryder. (http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/1261) These versions are in the public domain and may be found at Gutenberg.org. However the language of these translations is circuitous and Victorian and sounds to my ear quite out-dated. The Sanskrit drama runs to more than 100 pages in translation and is difficult to follow, but for anyone who likes a deeper study of the work, it's worth the read.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raja_Ravi_Varma 

Shakuntala in the hermitage of Kanva by Raja Ravi Varma

So in my retelling here on the blog I have included ample illustrations from various sources: Movie posters, TV shows, still photos of dramas, Iskcon paintings, and the excellent artwork of Raja Ravi Varma.

Ravi Raja Varma, Indian Artist, Victorian Period

I have no particular permission to use these different illustrations.  But since my blog is not commercial and is for educational purposes only, I see no harm in including different paintings and drawings in different styles to bring the reader closer to the story.

Curse of Durvasa.

As a blogger, I'm inviting my readers to journey with me through the creative process and the tremendous learning curve I face, as story-teller and cybernaut. This retelling is undergoing editorial change on a regular basis; when it is finished it may take on a more formal aspect and be published as a book or graphic novel. At the present moment I have taken this on more or less as a hobby, something that might entertain my many friends and readers around the world.

I have been publishing this as a serial, a few paragraphs a day, for two reasons: one, to allow the reader to get involved in the story a little bit at a time, and two, for the purpose of editing gradually what I began last year as a larger project, the retelling of the entire Mahābhārata.

Mahabharata

I thank you all for your patience in reading. I sincerely hope you enjoy this version and that it allows you to reflect on the traditions and wisdom of ancient India on your path to truth. I hope that my humble attempt to retell the stories found in  these great classics brings you some light.

Humbly,

Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahayogi

Shakuntala

BHIṢMA RESTS

"Let me rest a while."

Remembering the vow of vengeance taken by Amba, Bhishma paused. The mysterious brahmaṇa boy who had attended Bhiṣma drew some water onto a cloth. Wringing it out he wiped the perspiration from the old man’s head. Bhishm coughed. "I grow weary with this tale," He said. The sun had dipped below the horizon. Venus appeared in the heavens. "Let me rest a while."

"We shall return to you in the morning," said Yudhisthira "The history of our dynasty is filled with many lessons. We are eager to hear more."

"Go now," said Bhishma. "Tomorrow I shall tell you of how Amba was transformed by fire into a warrior in the family of Drupada and how I met this terrible end. 

Go now and may your stars guide you."

The Pandavas returned to their camp. The brightly colored tents looked faded in the light of the campfire.

 Nakula and Sahadeva took their places by the fire and were joined by Arjuna and Bhima. After so much battle, finally a moment of peace. Now Venus had been joined with a thousand stars and their pinpoints of light shined in the heavens above Kurukshetra. Yudhisthira appeared with Kuntidevi their mother. And as they sat around the fire and watched the planets move through the sky, the conversation turned to the ancient dynasty of the Kurus.

The long war was over. Asvatthama had been banished. The ghosts of dead warriors stalked the battlefield, but their chariots would no longer clatter over the earth. No longer would thousands of car-warriors terrorize the towns and villages around Hastinapura. India would know peace under the reign of Yudhishtira, Pariksit, Janamejaya and subsequent kings of the Bharat dynasty. As the fire burned low, the modest Yudhisthira turned to his mother Kuntidevi and before the Pandavas seated there asked her, "O Mother. Bhishma spoke of Vichitravirya and Chitrangada, our ancestors. Tell us of our ancestors. We are called the sons of Bharata.  Tell us of the origins of the Kuru dynasty and of Bharat Who was Bharat? What were his origins." 

The wise and expert Kunti explained. “The Kuru dynasty comes in the line of Bharat, who was born in the line of Puru. To better understand this history I must tell you the story of Shakuntala.”

The Story of Shakuntala

 And so it was that Kunti told them the famous story of Shakuntala as she had heard it  when she was only a girl in the court of King Kambhoja.  She spoke as follows:

“Once upon a time there was a great king. His name was Dushyant and he came in the line of Puru. 

One day Dushyant was hunting with his charioteer in the deep forest and he came upon a spotted deer. The deer ran away, leading Dushyant and his charioteer deeper into the forest. 

Deer hunting: Irainian miniature

They chased the spotted deer futher into the deep woods with Dushyant  tracing his movement with his bow. Just as Dushyant was ready to unleash a fatal arrow, a young monk from the nearby ashram of Kanva, appeared before him, with hands raised in supplication. He said, ‘Please don’t shoot. O king or prince, whoever you are, please spare the life of this spotted deer. 

 This deer is the favorite pet of our guru, Kanva. You are close to the ashram of Kanva. Here there is no hunting; only peace.  The disciples of the humble Kanva live quietly contemplating the truth. The nimble spotted deer is sacred to Kanva and his disciples. Please don’t shoot. Rather put down your weapons in the spirit of ahimsa.’

With this, the king, still flushed with the heat of passion and eager for blood, steadied his mind, unstrung his bow and smiled. “If this fawn is the favorite of a holy man and his friends, so be it. I shall never harm an innocent animal. Tell me again of your master and his ashram. Let us speak of truth and peace. We shall have no more violence and blood sport.”

The monk thanked the king and praised him. “Our ashram is near here,” he said. “Follow the bank of the river to the holy tirtha. Just there, nearby is a grove of tamarind trees above the river’s bank. Within that secret grove you will find the shelter of the holy Kanva and his disciples. Thank you again for your noble grace. I see that you are a great prince and the protector of the harmless. If it pleases your Lordship, why not stay for prasadam, our sacred food?”

Kanva Muni at his ashram

The king was eager to attend to his entourage who awaited him in another part of the forest. Tomorrow was the birthday of the Prince, but hearing the words of the monk the king was keen to assure him that soon he would visit the humble ashram of the saint Kanva. 

Bidding farewell to the monk, he gave orders to his man to drive the chariot a little farther on into the woods where there would be water for the horses. They drove for a while until they found good green pasture by the side of the river, and the water flowed clear and sweet.

The king gave orders to his man. “Untie the horses and let them roam or rest for a while as they will. See that they eat the cool grass of yonder pasture and find shade in those those tamarind trees. I will stretch my legs, and after walking a while, visit the ashrama of the saint Kanva, to pay my respects. If I am not back by sundown I will rest in the ashram and return in the morning.”

Shakuntala at Kanva's ashram

His horse-man agreed and took the chariot a little farther on into the woods.  King Dushyant decided that his son’s birthday party could wait and thought that it might be auspicious to pay a visit to the ashram of the saint Kanva. He began to walk a while and enjoy the quiet atmosphere of the forest. A butterfly hung in the air before him. The fragrance of honey permeated the air. He walked through the tall trees by the river where the cranes fished in the early morning. The air was fresh and the river low, the rainy season having passed.

Shakuntala at the ashram of Kanva Muni

King Dushyant had understood from the monk where the ashram would be and so he crossed the river, wading through a shallow point. On the other side of the river he found the old holy tirtha with its deities and a bathing ghat with rich marble steps by a grove of tamarind trees.

As he followed the path, the grove of trees became thicker with creeping vines that flowered with jasmines. A tall mango tree shaded his path where up ahead between the vines he saw a clearing. In the clearing were a few small bamboo huts and a path. There was a rustic garden with papayas and some women were working, watering the plants and talking. Surprised by such an enchanting garden where he had expected the austere quarters of an old saint, King Dushyant stopped awhile by the mango tree and hid himself, listening. He could hear the women of the ashram talking.

Shakuntala in the ashrama of Kanva Muni with deer

“Where has Kanva Prabhu gone?” said one of the girls, Priyamvada.

“He told me, Anasuya, that he had to visit a very sacred place in the forest.”

“But, Priyamvada, why would he leave today if he knows that we have an important sacrifice tonight?”

“I can’t tell you, Anasuya. He told me not to tell anyone.”

“But if you can’t trust me, who can you trust?” said Anasuya.

“Well all right, but don’t tell Shakuntala.” said Priyamvada. “It has to do with her. Something about her good fortune.”

“I worry about that girl,” said Anasuya.

“Me too,” said Priyamvada. “Kanva loves her as if she were his own daughter.”

“But Kanva isn’t her father, is he?”

“Of course not, silly. She was adopted by Kanva. Her mother left her when she was only a baby. It was a big mystery.”

Shakuntala at the Ashrama of Kanva Muni by Raja Ravi Varna

“Her mother was Menaka, the apsara, I heard. Didn’t she have something to do with Vishvamitra?”

“I’ve told you the story a million times. Vishvamitra was a great warrior who was determined to become a powerful brahmaṇa after he saw what the miracle cow of Vasistha could do.”

“So?”

“So he was practicing austerities and penances for a long time, until even the gods were afraid of him.”

“What did they do?”

“Well, when they saw him practicing a powerful kind of yoga, they realized he was following a strict vow of brahmacharya.”

“Brahmacharya?”

“Yes, silly, that’s when you give up women. Anyway, there he was on the banks of the Ganges practicing yoga and the gods decided to break his vow.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

“Vishvamitra was becoming too powerful. If they didn’t break his vow he would become as powerful as the gods.”

“How did they break his vow?”

“They sent the most beautiful of all the river nymphs, the delicate Menaka. Her beauty was reknowned amongst the gods. No man could resist. Vishvamitra was sitting there, practicing his yoga. To disturb his concentration, Menaka the water nymph came to the banks of the Ganges and began to bathe in a fine silk sari, smiling all the time at the sage.”

In the forest ashram of the sage Kanva, the girls were gossiping. “Brahmacharya?” “Yes, silly, that’s when you give up women. Anyway, there he was on the banks of the Ganges practicing yoga and the gods decided to break his vow.” “Why would they do such a thing?” “Vishvamitra was becoming too powerful. If they didn’t break his vow he would become as powerful as the gods.” “How did they break his vow?” “They sent the most beautiful of all the river nymphs, the delicate Menaka. Her beauty was reknowned amongst the gods. No man could resist. Vishvamitra was sitting there, practicing his yoga. To disturb his concentration, Menaka the water nymph came to the banks of the Ganges and began to bathe in a fine silk sari, smiling all the time at the sage.” Temptation of Vishvamitra Muni by Menaka “What happened, Priyamvada? What happened then?” Just as Priyamvada was about to finish her story about Shakuntala’s mother, the fair Shakuntala herself, appeared in the mango grove carrying a clay water pot on her head. Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she walked, so delicate was she, as beautiful and graceful as the first lotus flower of spring. Ladies at Kanva's ashrama with Shakuntala As she joined her friends, Shakuntala said, “Am I interrupting anything?” She smiled, her bee-black hair shining in the afternoon sun. Her dear friends and fellow inmates of the ashram, Anasuya and Priyamvada giggled. "No, we were just talking," And joyful in springtime, they went about their duties, watering the papaya plants. Observing them through the green leaves of the tamarind trees was Dushyant the descendant of Puru. He now smiled to himself in the shadow of the mango tree. The ashram of Kanva was the ideal place for the contemplation of peace and the harmonies of the universe. Now, it was time for him to make his entrance. He made a great noise as if he had just arrived through the tamarind trees. King Dushyant walked up the path to the clearing in the mango grove.  The jasmine flowers made the air heavy with their fragrance. Moving with an exuberant royal swagger he called out, “Hello! Is anyone here?, O Kanva! Is this the ashram of the great saint Kanva?” King Dushyant makes his entrance. “Kanva is not here,” the ladies answered. “He has gone on pilgrimage. Who is there?” Not wanting to reveal himself as the king and royal liege of the forest, Dushyant replied, “I am a but humble officer of the king. He was hunting and came upon the fawn of the ashram here, a spotted deer. He spared its life from his voracious arrows and sent me here to salute the great saint. However, if Kanva is not here...” Sage Kanva leaving the ashram. “You are welcome,” said Priyamvada. “If you have protected the life of our fawn, then you are as welcome as any saint. Please stay and honour our prasadam. It is humble but will bless you with long life, as the food here is sacred.” Shakuntala with fawn “I agree. I thank you and salute you all. When will the sage Kanva return?” “We expect he will return before the ceremony tomorrow. Stay with us a while and allow us to offer you our hospitality,” said Anasuya, smiling. As the bees plucked honey from the yellow orchids near the mango tree, King Dushyant noticed the elegant young girl who shyly watered the papaya plants and kept her distance. Following his glance, Priyamvada smiled and said, “Allow me to introduce Shakuntala. Shakuntala, don’t keep our visitor waiting, bring him water and a sitting place of the finest kusha straw.” The fair and shy Shakuntala didn’t raise her eyes or look directly at the king.  She went to fetch more water with the clay pot that he held on her head. Her hips swayed gently as she left for the river by the holy bathing ghat. Shakuntala fetching water “Shakuntala is shy,” Priyamvada said. “Tell us, where is our fawn? Did you frighten him away?” King Dushyant told the story of the hunt, but changed it making himself the charioteer. “So where is our king?” she said eagerly. “The king has returned to his entourage deeper in the woods. I left the chariot and horses not far from here, to rest and take water. Soon I must return. Give my respect to the saint who attends you all so well in this ashram.” In a few minutes Shakuntala returned with water and sitting places for all.  Dushyant and Shakuntala The sun had begun its climb into the heavens and the heat of the day began in earnest. So they sat under the welcoming shade of tamarind and mango trees by the papaya garden while the honey-bees busied themselves dancing amongst the champak flowers while kokil birds gave their afternoon concert. There in the comforting shade Shakuntala, Priyamvada, and Anasuya drank cool refreshing drinks of rosewater and mint with the king as the ladies described the mission of Kanva and his teachings. As the sun grew even warmer and more time passed, Priyamvada and Anasuya detected a certain affection between the king and Shakuntala. Smiling to herself Priyamvada said, “You must excuse us now, for we have many duties to perform and the sun is sitting low on the horizon. Come Anasuya. Let the fair Shakuntala explain the precepts of our guide Kanva to the king’s officer.” “I too have many duties to perform,” protested Shakuntala,  her face at once turning red as a rose. “We must not violate the principles of hospitality,” said Priyamvada, with a firm smile. “You stay here with the king and explain the holy nature of this refuge in the forest. We shall return shortly.” So they sat together, Shakuntala and King Dushyant and as the sun went down they laughed and talked of everything.  The king was lost in her company and felt he had never been so charmed before in his life as when he saw the deep eyes and bee-black hair of the shy but charming Shakuntala. As the sun finished its glorious arc, the first star appeared on the horizon. The kokil birds once again took up the song they had left in the morning and began their vespertine concert. Just as Dushyant and Shakuntala were becoming even closer in thought and feeling,  they heard a terrible noise. Something was thrashing through the jungle, upsetting trees and animals. A terrific trumpeting noise alarmed the birds who flew away. A enraged male elephant was rampaging through the grove, missing his mate. Priyamvada and Anasuya came running back to the place where Shakuntala and Dushyant sat.  They were in a panic. With them was Gautami, the matron of the ashram. “The elephant is mad! He may attack at any minute,” said Gautami. “We must run or take shelter. He may destroy the bamboo hut of Kanva. Hurry!” Mad elephant charge Everyone was afraid of the great bull elephant who rampaged through the forest overturning trees. Rising to his feet, the great King Dushyant touched the sharp sword on his left hip with his right hand and assuaged the ladies there. “By the power of my right hand, I shall defend you and the ashram of Kanva. Wait behind those trees.” He said.  The ladies hid behind the tall mango tree and prayed to Vishnu for protection from the beast who ran through the forest. Vishnu The mad elephant Meanwhile the king left for the woods where he met the raging elephant. He was a huge bull elephant,  taller than a tree.  He was pulling down bamboo trees with his trunk and sweeping the forest floor before him with the broken bamboo, trumpeting and screaming in combined rage and agony. Dushyant approached him slowly, picking up some mangos that had fallen to the ground and gathering them in his cape. He came around one side of the elephant which was as high as a wall. As he uncovered the mangos he had in his cape, he began using special mantras he had learned from his own royal elephant trainer to Ganesh, the Lord of Elephants, saying, “ ओं गं गनपत्ययः नमः oṁ gaṁ ganapatyayaḥ namaḥ.”    ओं गं गनपत्ययः नमः Hearing this the elephant relaxed his grip on the bamboo, hesitated and looked squarely at King Dushyant. Dushyant offered him a handful of mangos. The elephant eagerly accepted the fruit as he was exhausted, both hungry and tired. Just as an expert mahout, King Dushyant pacified the elephant,  who soon forgot his rage and began chewing on the sugar cane breaks that grew there by the river. So pacifying the raging elephant, and realising that much time had passed, Dushyant returned through the woods to the clearing where he had left his chariot driver and the horses in the morning. Night was falling. “Let us return to our royal entourage,” said the king to his charioteer, “We shall make camp there, further in the forest.” So it was the king returned to his entourage to make camp. The next day the King Dushyant made preparations to return to his palace where his Queen had planned a celebration for the birthday of the prince. And as he was leaving he came upon some forest sages who stopped his horse and chariot saying, “O King. Help us! A terrible demon is preventing us from performing the ceremony of Vedic sacrifice.” The king decided it would be best to come to the aid of the forest sages and help them with their sacrifice, sending the royal entourage on to celebrate the birthday of the prince. He sets out to quell the disturbance in the forest. Using his powers as king, he punished the demon who was responsible for disrupting the ceremony. Meanwhile, Shakuntala, not understanding what had happened with her guest, began to worry. When she consulted with her friends, she realized that she wasn’t worried, that what pierced her heart like an arrow was love. She was enchanted by their guest.  She was now feverish with love for the handsome stranger who had entered the grove and spoke so sweetly and who had bravely placated the mad elephant. King Dushyant and Shakuntala at the ashrama of Kanva Muni Shakuntala lost in thought by Raja Ravi Varma 19th C. Indian Painter Shakuntala was lost in thought. Meanwhile, Shakuntala, wondered about their guest. Who was this handsome young king. How dare he come to the forest and hunt. And for deer! Her fawn was the sweetest most innocent creature she had ever known. But what had become of the stranger? He had gone off to stop a mad elephant. What courage! But what if he were crushed by the elephant? She was worried. How could she be worried about a total stranger? It was all so confusing. But when she consulted with her heart, she realized that she wasn’t worried. What pierced her heart like an arrow and made her head spin was love. She was enchanted by their guest, the handsome king.  She was  feverish with love for the stranger who had entered the grove.  He spoke so sweetly and ran bravely after the mad elephant. All this gave Shakuntala a headache. She was now burning with passion, and felt feverish and sick. But why had he left so soon? She felt abandoned. It wasn’t the first time. Her mother was the beautiful apsara, Menaka. She had been sent to earth to break the vow of Vishvamitra Muni.  Everyone in the ashrama knew the story. Vishvamitra had been a king and a great Kshatriya warrior. But he was unsatisfied with his position. Once he had been hunting in the forest when he came upon the great sage Vasistha. Enamoured by his wish-fulfilling cow, he attempted to steal it, but Vasistha ordered the cow to produce an army of soldiers. The magic army defeated Vishvamitra.  Thwarted, he was determined to understand the source of Vasishta’s power. How could a brahman be more powerful than an Kshatriya?  And so he resolved to become a greater mystic than Vasishta, by dint of severe penances and austerities. This was brought to the attention of Indra, the lord of rain, who decided to put a stop to Vishvamitra’s yogic practice. Menaka's dance He had prevailed upon Menaka to seduce the sage. One  day Vishvamitra was meditating on the banks of the Ganges. Menaka gathered flowers by the river. As she approached the sage, he was moved by the fragrance of her perfume, the sweetness of her smile, her enchanting eyes. Still, he resolved to follow his vows. Menaka began to frolic and dance through the forest, picking flowers and smiling graciously at the sage. But Vishvamitra was firm in his vows.  Menaka continued to tempt Vishvamitra until he was captured by her intoxicating beauty and drawn into the web of her seductive wiles. Temptation of Visvamitra by Raja Ravi Varma, 19th C. traditional painter Before long, a child was born, a daughter as enchanting as her mother and as strong-willed as her father. With this the spell was broken.  Birth of Shakuntala Vishvamitra rejected his daughter and returned to his austerities and meditation. Menaka was an apsara dancing girl from the heavens. She grew restless and bored with the simple tasks of motherhood.  She longed to return to the court of Indra, king of the heavens. And so it was that she abandoned Shakuntala in the forest. One morning, when no one was to be seen, Menaka slipped into the forest and laid the infant girl on a bed of mango leaves by a tall tamarind tree near the ashram of Kanva the forest sage.  She said mantras and prayers to the gods to protect the tiny girl and then returned to the heavens to dance in the court of the god of rain. Menaka had been abandoned by her father, the great sage Vishvamitra, and now by her mother, the beautiful apsara, Menaka. Shakuntha birds with baby girl As fortune would have it, the birds took pity on her. A family of Shakuntha birds brought her food and sang her to sleep on her bed of leaves. Finally, the sage Kanva, enchanted by the song of those exotic birds, found the nest where the little girl slept. And seeing the helpless child, he resolved to care for her. The compassionate sage raised her in his ashram as his own daughter and named her Shakuntala in honor of the shakuntha birds that had fed her. Sage Kanva and Shakuntala And there in the ashrama of Kanva Shakuntala had passed nearly sixteen years. She was a devoted daughter, polite, and well-educated. All the animals of the forest loved her, especially the birds who would perch on her shoulder and sing to her. But her favorite was the fawn that had escaped the ashram and was nearly killed by the king who came to hunt, the noble Dushyant.  King Dushyant Meanwhile, after he had taken care of the elephant, King Dushyant had to return to his camp and attend to his horses and chariots. He found his charioteer by the banks of the river. There he spent the night. As the moon rose over the tamarind trees, the King found that he could not stop thinking of the young maid who gathered papaya in a grove by Kanva's ashram. She was so attached to the little fawn that he had gone after with his bow and arrow. He found himself drawn to her. As the charioteer saw to the horses and the servants took down the pavilion of the king, the hunting party received a message from the royal court. The King's sister had summoned them. It was time to return. His favorite nephew was celebrating a birthday. But the king found an excuse to pass a few more days in the forest. Courtiers arrived and escorted his friends and servants in the hunting party back to his royal court, leaving behind his only his fool, his court jester. The king promised to return shortly. However he tried to clear his mind and stop thinking of this fresh girl with profound eyes and bee-black hair, his thoughts kept returning to her again and again. At this time, the king knew his heart was struck with a passion for Shakuntala. Bewildered and not knowing how to proceed, he consulted his fool, a wise court jester who traveled with him.  After most of the courtiers had returned to the kingdom, Dushyant to return to the grove where the ashram of Kanva was by the side of the river.  Kanva's Ashrama They entered the forest again on the king’s chariot. Then proceeded on foot,  the king armed only with his sharp sword. When he returned to the grove of Kanva, the ladies of the ashram were surprised to see him and asked about the elephant, thanking him. Shakuntala was overjoyed to see him. The king too was transformed with love and drank in the sight of Shakuntala, her hair dark like midnight rain, her eyes of deepest ocean blue. Dushyant with Shakuntala and friend As the ladies of the ashram excused themselves to perform their afternoon duties, Shakuntala found an excuse to stay with the king and his friend on the plea of hospitality. The fool left them to walk by the riverside and play his flute by the bamboo next to the water. Alone at last they professed their love to each other in a shady grove by the tall mango tree. They professed their love by the mango tree. Kunti tells of Shakuntala, Mother of Bharata The Sons of Pandu sat quietly and listened to their mother tell the tale of Shakuntala, the mother of Bharat, their forefather. As the dying embers of the fire shot sparks into the darkness, Kunti devi continued her story: Dushyant and Shakuntala "The king too was transformed with love and drank in the sight of Shakuntala, her hair dark like midnight rain, her eyes of deepest ocean blue. "As the ladies of the ashram excused themselves to perform their afternoon duties, Shakuntala found an excuse to stay with the king and his friend on the plea of hospitality. The fool left them to walk by the riverside and play his flute by the bamboo next to the water. Alone at last they professed their love to each other in a shady grove by the tall mango tree. Shakuntala and King Dashyant in Love They talked and laughed, the King now madly in love, entrusted Shakuntala with his royal ring as an emblem of his true heart. Shankuntala gave herself hopelessly to the descendant of Puru as they embraced. They embraced and shared their hopes, doing all the things that lovers do when enchanted by spring. As the sun went down they whispered a lovers pledge never to part. "Some days passed. The fool meanwhile became involved in meditation and study, and the ladies of the ashram occupied themselves in their duties to their guru while the happy couple passed a fortnight together, meeting secretly in the evenings and admiring the setting sun through the trees of the forest.  "In this way they passed many days in love. During this time,  Shakuntala and the King promised themselves to each other and exchanging garlands of flowers, they married privately in the Gandharva style. "One night a group of marauding yakshas or forest spirits attacked the ashram of Kanva, and then returned to the forest. The following night, laying in wait for them as the full moon rose over the fire sacrifice performed by humble brahmaṇas, the king found the yakshas, defeated them and sent them into retreat.  "Messengers from the court of the king then arrived in the grove, recalling Dushyant to the royal court. The king was obliged to return to his duties at the royal palace. With a heavy heart, before they could make public their love and formally marry, the king had to return. He gave Shakuntala his royal ring and his sworn pledge that they would be married soon in the formal royal style. He pledged his loyalty to Shakuntala and told her he would never forget her and left. Terracota Yakshas, Sunga period (1st century BC), found in Chandraketugarh (West Bengal) - Metropolitan Museum of Art - New York "In the mean time, the fair Shakuntala tended the ashrama awaiting the return of the hermit Kanva. As the papaya budded and bloomed in the garden so also did a child grow in her womb. Her child would be Bharat, the great ruler of India who gave his name for generations to India and to her story, the Mahabharata. Her child would be a fearless, compassionate king, worshipped by all, the ancestor of all you Pandavas." Artists Depiction of Kunti Devi, Mother of the Pandavas. Kunti paused, staring at the fire. Being moved by the history that their mother was telling them, Yudhisthira her eldest son and foremost of  the Pandavas asked Kunti Devi, “What became of Shakuntala and Dushyant and how did their story end? Was our ancestor born in the ashram of Kanva?” The Curse of Durvas Muni Forest-dwelling Yakshas At the petition of King Yudhishthira, Kunti, his mother continued the story of their ancestor Bharata.  As the horizon became clear with the first rays of morning, Kunti replied saying, “Well, It so came to pass that the erudite saint Durvasa Muni, who was known for his hot temper, passed by the ashram of Kanva.  Durvasa passes by the ashram of Kanva At that time he was very hungry. The sweet young Shakuntala, now with child was so distracted by her love of Dushyant, that she neglected her service.  She didn’t attend to the sage properly.  While preparing lunch for Durvasa Muni she forgot to fetch fresh water. The lunch was cold. Her fickle mind was lost as she pined for king Duhsyant and wondered, “Does he still remember me?” Her absent-mindedness was not lost on the sage. The hot-tempered Durvasa became enraged at her treatment. Finally, he could tolerate her no more. “I curse you, girl.”  Durvasa curses Shakuntala for absent-mindedness He said,  “As you have have been so absent-minded with  me, thinking all the while of one who is not here, so shall the one you love be inattentive with you. Whoever it is you pine for will forget all about you. He will remember neither you, nor your face. He shall no more think of you and shall forget your image in his heart. You will vainly strive to waken his remembrance but he shall disown you and cast you out from his court as a stranger.” With this, the shy and devoted Shakuntala blushed red. “Forgive me, O blessed one,” She said. “I have sinned against you.” Durvasa was impervious to her pleas. He refused to listen to her. Some time later, hearing of the terrible curse of the hot-tempered sage, Shakuntala’s friends Priyamvada and Anasuya did their best to mitigate the curse. Arriving on the scene they assuaged the saint with sweet words and cool drinks. Serving the saint the richest and most sumptuous food and drink they knew how to prepare while cajoling him with sweet words, the girls finally managed to calm him.  When they saw he was peaceful within and satisfied with the repast, they said, “O saintly one, kindly mitigate the curse you have given our sister.” In this way they pleaded with him. Durvasa Muni mitigates the curse With this, Durvasa Muni, said, “Because you have shown me hospitality worthy of the great Kanva, I will try to relax the curse. I cannot change what has been said. The King will forget all about Shakuntala. But, at the sight of the ring he gave her, the spell will pass, and his memory of her will return.” So it was that Durvasa Muni left Shakuntala with the fateful curse which would change her life and the life of her unborn son Bharata. Forgotten The king had left for his palace and court. Soon he became immersed in royal affairs and forgot all about Shakuntala. He had a vague memory that something interesting had happened while on his hunt in the forest, but even when he tried hard to think of what it was, it escaped him. He celebrated the prince's birthday with the queen and fell into the dull forgetfulness of everyday life. Shakuntala was desperate to hear some news from Dushyant, but as the days went by no messenger arrived to escort her to the palace of the king. As her pregnancy began to show, people would ask about the father of her child. And when she told them, "He will be a great prince, as his father is the King, Dushyant," the people would scorn and laugh at her.  Finally, she sat down and wrote Dushyant a letter, reminding the king of their love. She sent the letter with a brahmana who passed through the ashrama, and waited for a reply, but heard nothing. Shakuntala writes a letter Finally Kanva returned from his long pilgrimage. He greeted Gautami, the matron of the ashram and asked her for the news. Gautami told him all about the yakshas who had attacked the sacred fire, and the elephant who tore through the bamboo and the story of Shakuntala and her infatuation with the King Dushyant.  Sage Kanva and Shakuntala After Kanva rested and lit the sacrificial fire and spoke the Vedic truths to his disciples, he called for Shakuntala. When she told that hermit how she was with child, it was decided that the best thing to do would be to travel to the Palace of the great King Dushyant and remind him of his obligation toward his wife. They resolved to leave at once for the court of King Dushyant to plead their case.  The Court of King Dushyant Shakuntala with ladies of Kanva's ashrama Kunti continued, "When the time came, Shakuntala and the ladies bid farewell to  Kanva Muni and the members of his forest ashram. Kanva felt proud that his disciple would soon be the Queen of Hastinapura. No doubt her son would become a great king in his own right. He was sad to see her go; she was the only daughter he would ever know. "And so it was that in joyful anticipation, the ladies of the ashrama set out together for the court of King Dushyant. Shakuntala said goodbye to the deer and parrots, and the family of Shakuntha birds that had saved her life. They went on through the lush green forest by the river where every creeper wept tears of nectar to see her go.  "As she waved farewell to the forest of her childhood, Shakuntala glanced at her hand. The royal ring that Dushyant had placed on her slender lotus-like finger shined brilliantly in the morning sun. 'Perhaps the curse of Durvasa had affected the king's mind,' She thought.  "Perhaps that's why he never answered the letter. But once he sees the ring, the spell will be broken,"  Anasuya and Priyamvada went along with Shakuntala.  The girls were accompanied by Gautami, the  matron of the ashram. Shakuntala was confident that when they arrived in court, everything would be settled. She had no idea of the misfortune that was to befall her.  Kunti said, "In a few days they approached the great city of Hastinapura, where your ancestors ruled and where your descendants will also rule. Shakuntala and their company reached the Sachi river and could see the towers of the king's palace on the horizon. In the intense heat of the day they bathed in the cool waters of the river.  "They heard the birdcalls of Shakuntha birds through the mango trees. The bamboo reflected in the stream gladdened their hearts. They frolicked in the stream for a while, laughing, splashing water and forgetting their cares, Shakuntala and her friends squeezed the sandy mud through their toes and giggled when the tiny fish wriggled through their feet.  At night they made camp on the river's banks. Gautami enlivened them with talk of Shakuntala's royal prospects. How lovely she would look, dressed in the finest silk of the land, wearing the tiara of a queen. The ladies slept peacefully with visions of royalty in their heads.   The following day, after bathing in the river again, they put on clean white saris and approached the imposing palace gates of the great city of Hastinapura.  "Deep inside the cool halls and vaulted marble ceilings of the great palace was the royal court of King Dushyant. The King was absorbed in a game of chess with his minister of war. They discussed the disposition of elephants and horses and the defenses of the city. True to the curse of the hot-headed Durvasa Muni, the King had forgotten all about his long lost love, the fair Shakuntala. He had forgotten the moments of love and passion he had shared with the daughter of Menaka under the mango trees in the forest ashram of the sage Kanva.  'Your move,' said the minister of war with a sly grin. 'I'm thinking,' said the King. His position was lost. But perhaps the last-minute sacrifice of a piece might have bought him time enough defeat his rival. He contemplated his move on the chess-board. Seated on a fine silk pillow, sipping a cool drink, he stared at the chess-board. As his hand touched a piece he looked at his ring finger and wondered what happened to his signet ring. Where had he misplaced it? He would need to make some inquiry. Just then a messenger burst into the chambers. 'Maharaja Dushyant Ki Jai!' 'What is it?' said the King? "What is it?" said the King 'I beg forgiveness for this discorteous interruption, Sire, but it seems you have some visitors.' 'Visitors?' said the king, holding the chess piece in his hand. He looked up from the board.   'Yes, Sire. The ladies of Kanva's forest ashrama.' 'Kanva Muni? What does he want?' 'Not Kanva, Sire. The ladies of his ashrama.' Seeing an opportunity to confuse his minister, the King played the knight sacrifice. 'Check!' he said. 'Sire, these ladies have arrived in court, desiring an audience with the king.' 'Right away,' said the King, and stood to go. 'Study that move,' he said to the minister, smiling. And so the King,  a busy man oppressed with the weighty cares of government, left his chambers.  Shakuntala at court With much pomp and ceremony the heralds announced the arrival of the lady hermits and their charges and the chamberlains ushered the king into his court. They bowed as he approached his throne and sat. The ladies of Kanva's ashram bowed. Only Shakuntala remained standing, smiling. King Dushyant made himself comfortable on his royal throne, adjusting his silk garments. An attendant brought him a silver bowl filled with fruit and placed it on a stand. The king began to peel a grape. He looked at the ladies present and at his courtiers. The girl who was standing was unusually beautiful, but he had never seen her before. “What brings you all here?” said the King. “Whenever noble saints and sages grace this court with their presence, we feel blessed. And when angelic ladies come to bless us we feel doubly graced. How is Kanva Muni? I've been meaning to make a pilgrimage. His ashram is in the forest somewhere isn't it? Is he in good health?” With this the ladies greeted the king and bowed again. Gautami stood and took Shakuntala by the hand, approaching the king. Gautami said, "My dear King: the humble sage Kanva, our preceptor, sends his humble obeisances and respects. He regrets that when you visited his ashrama and met the lady Shakuntala he was out on holy pilgrimage. But he has sent me along with your wife and soon to be mother of your child. We missed you so much. But now that we are all reunited, we are happy to see you again. Here is your beloved wife, Shakuntala." The King smiled. "I'm very sorry, but I don't remember visiting Kanva's ashrama. Shakuntala? Who is she?" Shakuntala stepping forward, smiled, radiant. At last she was standing before her beloved Dushyant. “My Lord.” she said. “It's been so long since we last saw each other. But the day that we professed our love under the mango tree seems like yesterday to me. I know it isn't your fault. The fault is all mine. You promised to send a chariot for me to bring me here to your court. I have written you so many letters, but because of the curse of  Durvasa Muni you haven't replied to any of them. I can no longer wait for your return to the ashram by the banks of the river Ganges. Forlorn and forgotten I have come to surrender myself to you that you might do with me as you please.” Curse? “Curse? Who is this woman?” asked the king, frowning, his memory shattered by the curse of Durvasa. “Don’t you recognize your own wife?” asked Gautami, the matron of the ashrama, shocked and indignant at the king’s insensitivity. “My wife?” said the king. “I'm not sure I see the humor in your remarks. My wife, the Queen, awaits in her chambers. Why wouldn't I recognize her. What is the meaning of all this? Who is this woman, I say?” "Don't you remember me?" “O, my love. Don’t you know me? It is I, Shakuntula. Don’t you remember when we talked together in the mango grove and sipped the clear water of the Ganges in a cup you made of lotus leaves?” “I remember nothing of the kind,” said the king. “What are you implying. Are you saying I know this girl? That I....?  Listen my child. You're a very nice young lady, and very pretty if I do say, but   If I accepted all the women who claimed I had married them, I would have to maintain a harem. If you need some charity, my Lord the minister of charity will be happy to help you. Kanva was always honorable with my father. If he wants gold and silver all he needs to do is ask. But you are accusing me of what?  Fathering your child?  This is an outrage!– Guards! remove them.” "Have you no shame? Where is your honor? You are a king. Is your promise worth nothing? Oh, but you must be under the spell of the curse. The curse of Durvasa Muni!" "Curse! You dare to curse me? Guards!" The guards began to move from their posts. They stood close to Shakuntala to escort her from the royal court. The ring had vanished “Wait!” cried  Shakuntala. Everyone looked at her. She held out her hand. "Look!" she said. "Behold    the royal signet ring of Dushyant!" She held up her hand for all to see. But alas! The ring had vanished from her hand. Add caption Note Dear readers: I hope you are enjoying my retelling of the story of Shakuntala. As source materials I have culled from the Ganguli translation of Mahabharata, the Arthur Ryder translation of Kalidas, and the retelling of my own Guru Maharaja, Bhakti Rakshak Shridhar Dev Goswami, as I heard it from him at his ashram in 1982.   One may wonder about the value of recounting this story, which appears on its face to be an ordinary romance. The story of Shakuntala is an important part of Indian history and culture, as Shakuntala herself is the mother of the famous Bharata.  In a sense, she is the mother of India itself, as India proper is known as Bharata. Sanskrit students love the poetry of Kalidas, who, writing in around the 5th century or so, took certain liberties with the original Mahabharata version. Shridhar Maharaja himself could quote passages from memory, as he was a great expert in the Sanskrit language. Without any further justification, we continue with the story. Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahayogi The Ring Kunti held her children spellbound with the tale. She continued her narration. Add caption "Shakuntala held up her hand to show all the royal signet ring of King Dushyant with which her had married her and pledged eternal loyalty. But it was gone. “The ring!” She cried. “Where is the ring?” The ring had disappeared as if by magic from her hand.  Shocked as she beheld her bare fingers, Shakuntala was dumbfounded. "The curse!" She said. As the king had no idea what she was referring to, and being under the curse of Durvasa Muni, he sat there puzzled as the courtiers laughed. Turning to the court brahmaṇa, the King asked, “O wise one, what is your council? What should we do with this innocent girl? She believes me to be her husband and has lost her wits. And yet, she is under the protection of Kanva Muṇi. She is obviously with child and should be protected.” Gandhari, the matron of the ashrama, crossed her arms. Shakuntala looked at the wise old brahmaṇa. The court was still. The brahmaṇa thought a while.  Then he said, “O King. We must take the middle path. You may know the girl. With all respect for your lordship, you are a warrior and sometimes stay in faraway places during your adventures. You may not be as innocent as you pretend to be. You may have forgotten this child. She is an innocent so perhaps she has a real case. We should proceed with caution. There is a test. We can wait until she bears the child and see if the child has the royal marks. All children born in the line of Puru must be born with the royal mark of the lotus in the palms of their hands. We can agree to take care of this girl until then. She can stay in the ashram here at court until such time as she bears the child. Then we shall see who is the father.” The King smiled. "Make it so." he said, and stood up, prepared to leave the hall. Shakuntala, hearing this was disgusted. She had heard enough. Shocked at the king’s insensitivity, she could tolerate no further insults to her purity.  She ran from the court and from the palace. Anasuya and Priyamvada ran after her, but Shakuntala was fleet of foot and raced past the palace gates and kept running. Soon she reached the place by the river where they had bathed the day before. Perhaps she had lost the ring in the river when they were bathing. It all seemed so long ago. But as she stared into the waters of the Sachi River, she was witness to a miracle. An airship approached from the sky and came towards her. An angelic figure appeared from the biman airship and bid Shakuntala to join her. Once aboard,  the airship bore Shakuntala up to the heavens.  An airship appeared from the sky From a distance, Priyamvada and Anusuya watched Shakuntala run into the forest. But they were astonished to see the descent of the celestial ariship and as they  witnessed this miracle they were amazed and offered prayers.  The king in his amnesia returned to his chambers where the Queen and prince awaited him.  Gandhari, Priyamvada, Anusuya and the other followers of Kanva, with prayers on their lips, and wonder in their hearts at the ways of the gods, returned to their ashram in the forest. Shakuntala had disappeared. Biman from Ramayana When the fool was kidnapped by a race of giant man-eating rakshasas, Indra himself descended on a winged chariot to plead for Dushyant to help him in the battle. Then Dushyant ascended into the heavens on a winged chariot guided by Matali to assist the god of rain against the race of mighty demons and giants who had kidnapped his erstwhile fool.  Matali said, 'my lord the king of rain is powerless against this foe and bids you smite these demons with your sharp arrows. As darkness falls, the orb of night shall rise and light our way. Set us forth for victory, O King. Let us ride upon the clouds. until they fled.  And moving through the clouds they dispatched those hellish hordes, the invincible brood of Kalanemi.  The vampire demons were forced to release the jester of the king and swear allegiance to the god of rain. King Dushyant recovered his beloved clown in the battle while Indra was pleased to see the demons flee, screaming from the fight. Concluding their battle they flew in winged chariots to the heavenly abode of Indra, where Dushyant was entertained for a time by the lord of heaven. He seated King Dushyant beside him on a throne of beaten gold and smiled. Then the lord of thunder Indra placed around his neck the heavenly wreath of flowers still fragrant from the sandalwood paste on his own neck. He lauded King Dushyant for his heroism in battle against the mighty rakshasa warriors. Rakshasa Dushyant bowed to Indra and said, "All servants owe their success to proper honor paid to their masters before the deeds are done. Dawn defeats the darkness by resting on the chariot of the sun." To which Indra replied, "O earthly king! You have pleased me, the king of the gods. And so, your glory is greater by having been published in heaven by the gods with colors used by the apsaras to make their beauty glow. Your brave deeds have been written in the clouds, which even now blush before you." And bidding leave of Indra, King Dushyant, along with his court jester, boarded the airship of Matali, chariot to the gods and so began the long descent to his earthly kingdom. And as they ranged the sky they passed many a snowcappped peak that pierced the clouds. And by and by they came to a mystic mountain range of purest gold.  Mount Kailash And Dushyant said, "When we passed this way before we fought the man-eating devils on their flying machines. I was so intent on unleashing showers of darts upon those fiends that I had not noticed this magic land. What windpath have we taken?" Vamana Dev And Matali replied, "When Lord Vishnu appeared as Vamana, he encompassed the three worlds in three strides. His second stride fell here. This is a paradise on earth where creatures live free from passion in constant peace and harmony." "Even now," said Dushyant, "I feel a strange serenity possess my body and mind." "We shall land down there for a time," said Matali, charioteer to Indra god of rain. And so saying, he began to guide the airship in its fall through the clouds.  Chariot of the sun "How strange to fall from the sky in your airship." Said the king. "Below I see the falcons turn and wheel, and far below us the plains come closer. A silver strip that streaks between the green becomes a raging river running through the wheat. And as we fall the river network is clear, the smaller streams appear. The spots of green have changed to massive trees. The valley of liquid gold has turned to a field of wildflowers mustard yellow.  And when the craft had landed, Dushyant said, "How curious is this place. We are surrounded by snow-capped mountains where only stony crags welcome our view. But here a warm breeze wafts jasmine flowers through the fields. Eagles fly from their mountain caves high above us. But here below this valley is blessed with calm." Matali said, "This golden peak was the abode of King Kuvera, god of forest creatures, lord of yakshas, king of all wealth. Here in these hills,  Kasyapa, the progenitor of gods resides and does his penance."  The king said, "Guide this air chariot to the place where Kashyapa resides. Let us make pilgrimage to that holy place. Here the great hermits achieve their mystic powers absorbed in the secrets of yoga. Let us visit him." And Matali said, "Your thoughts are worthy. So be it." And so he hovered in his winged chariot a few palm's lengths above the ground. And so the airship glided on the wind until they found the ashram of that great saint Kashyapa, son of Marichi.  And from a distance, Matali, charioteer of Indra pointed to a cave in darkened woods and said, "Look!" "Through those trees. There stands the hermit himself, long of beard, austere in body. See how strangler vines are choking his wizened form. He stands half-buried in an ant-hill that surrounds him. He stands still as a wooden post, staring at the sun with eyes that know no rest. A  dried cobra skin adorns his breast. He has stood there unmoved for such a time that birds have built their nests within his matted hair. Behold Kashyapa Muni, son of Marichi, progenitor of gods.  "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." "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." 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. 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.  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." 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. 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. 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?" 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?" "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." "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. "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." Kunti continued, "With this the nanny came through the ashoka grove bearing a toy bird. It was a little replica of the kind of birds that attended Shakuntala when she was a helpless infant, abandoned in the woods by her mother the apsara Menaka, so long ago.  And when the nanny came through the aśoka trees, she said: "Here boy. I brought you your toy. Your shakunta birdie. Here boy. Come and play with the birdie." And she showed him the brightly painted bird of clay. But the boy only heard the word, "shakunta." "Mother!" he said. "Where is my mother?" he cried, running toward the nanny. Dushyant went pale. The blood disappeared from his cheeks. "That word. shakunt," he thought. "Could it be that this child had some connection with his long lost love, the innocent girl he had known in the forest of mangos so long ago at the ashram of the sage Kanva? What cruel twist of fate had led to this moment?" And at this moment the boy grabbed the bird from the nurses hand and ran about in the grove of ashoka trees. As the sunshine threw dappled shadows on the earth he ran barefoot with tousled hair waving the bird about as if it really could fly.  And as he ran waving his arms about, the nurse could see that an amulet was missing from his wrist. "Where is your bracelet boy?" she said. But the boy simply ran around chasing the bird that flew from his hand in his imagination. "His bracelet fell when he was playing with the lion cubs," said the king, pointing to a glistening object on the ground.  And where he looked was a golden wrist-bangle studded with precious stones, shining in the golden sands of the ashoka grove.  "Here, allow me." And he reached to pick it up. "Don't!" said the nurse, grabbing the king's hand before he could touch the amulet. But the king brushed her away and took hold of the shining object, holding it up to the light to inspect it. How it shined in the morning sun! Was this some divine jewelry, crafted from the gods.  The king smiled at the nurse, admiring the bracelet "Why not?" "Your majesty. I can see that you are a noble king. But you are in a land of strange miracles. This child is not ordinary at all. When he was born here in this holy place of pilgrimage, Kashyapa himself, son of Marichi, gave this bracelet to the infant at the time of his birth ceremony.  Endowed with magic powers the amulet is charmed. If it falls to the ground no one may touch it except the boy himself or his parents. That bracelet you are holding is mystical" "And what happens if someone else touches the amulet, someone other than the boy's father or mother." The nurse looked him in the eye. "It is a protective amulet. It transforms into an asp and stings him, or anyone else who dares to molest the boy. How strange that it has lost its power. Normally you would writhing in pain from snakebite by now. Perhaps it was broken in the fall" "Have you ever seen such a terrible thing happen before?" said the king. "More than once," said the maid. With this the boy finished his frolicking, ran back to the nurse and the king who returned his amulet. Fixing it once again to his wrist, the boy looked at the king again as if for the first time.  He frowned and said, "Where's my mother?"  Dushyant smiled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just now we are going to meet her," he said. "You shall see her in just a minute." The boy tried to shake the foreign hand off his shoulder. "Let me go." But Dushyant's hand of fatherly affection was firm on the boy's shoulder. "Be patient, my son." he said. "We shall see your mother in just a moment." "Let me go," said the boy, "shaking free. Don't call me 'son.' You're not my father." "We'll soon see about that." "Let me go! I want to see my mother!" said the boy, pulling free. "And now you know the truth," Kashyapa said. "Do not be angry with the king, your husband. Remember the curse was done in anger. All things done in anger must bring pain. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Remember the laws of karma and dharma. Anger will cloud the mirror of your soul; keep the mirror clean. Reflections are not seen in dusty glass. Clean the mirror of your soul with the holy name." "We thank you," O holy one, "for your advice." Said the king. And Kashyapa turned to the little boy who sat on his mother's lap undoing the single braid of her bee-black hair which fell down her alabaster neck. Kashyapa said, "You must treat this boy with great respect. I myself performed his birth ceremony, awarded him his magic amulet and gave him the name Bharata. Later the country you rule will be ruled by him. It will come to be known as Bharata." Dushyant laughed and touched the boy under his chin, saying, "Yes, I see the resemblance. He is like me. He will be the hope of all of India." Kashyapa smiled, his ancient eyes boring deep into Dushyant's soul: "Yes. His courage and strength will make him emperor of all the land and his air-chariot will travel the seven islands of the earth. All will bow before his mighty arms.  He will tame wild beasts even as he plays with lion cubs and his descendants will cherish his memory as Bharata, the ruler of all the Indias. "I expect no less," said Dushyant, as you have been his preceptor and guide. "One more thing," said, Kashyapa. "We must inform Kanva that his daughter Shakuntala is happy and that her wishes have been fulfilled. He will be overjoyed to hear the news." One of the ashram brahmacharis named Galava appeared as if on command.  "Please accept my humble obeisances," he said, bowing before his master."How may I serve?" Old Kashyapa smiled. "Kanva is a seer of the truth, a tattva-tarshibhi. He knows all this already. But we must show him the proper respect. We must send a messenger to him with all these good tidings, how his daughter and her son are accepted in marriage by her husband, how Bharata will become a great king, you understand?" "Yes, my lord. Kashyapa Muni ki Jai!" "Galava, fly through the air at once and give the good news to the saintly Kanva. Tell him how the terrible curse of Kanva has ended, how Dushyant recovered his memory, and of the happiness of Shakuntala." "Right away," said Galava, with another reverence, and set wings to his heels.  "And now me must bid you all farewell," said Kashyapa. "Matali is here with his magic chariot. You must return to your capital in peace and proclaim the festivities." "Yes, my lord preceptor. I will do as you say," said the king, Dushyant. "And now that all our please, the king's memory is restored, Shakuntala the daughter of the divine Menaka and the great Vishvamitra is pleased, her son Bharat will one day give his name to the great state of India, I can only pray that the sacrificial fires are properly lit, that Vishnu is pleased with our service, that Indra may send abundant rain and that the harvest will be good. Let all live in peace with your rule on earth under the gods in heaven. What more can I do for you my son?" And Dushyant replied, "It is impossible to repay the gifts given by the true saints. Your wisdom has benefited me with earthly love; I pray one day to attain the highest benefits of divine live. Let Vishnu give me faith to serve and free my soul from all rebirth." Kunti finished her story. The sun was up now and it was time to revisit the battlefield and hear once again the dying instructions of the great Bhishmadeva. "Of course," she said, "that was long ago. Hastinapura was much humbler than it is today before all the great palaces were built, before the rule of Shantanu and Bhishma and your forefathers, before this conflict of cousins, this war of kings. Bharata was a great king who ruled in peace. I hope that you, my son, will learn from his example.