Story of Shakuntala continued.

Add caption

After Shakuntala left his court, the King returned to his royal chambers. The minister of war handily defeated him at chess. He sent his counselors away.  He stood at the window and stared at the horizon, trying to remember. His mind was a fog. "Could it have been possible? This beautiful maiden of Kanva's ashram was his own wife?" But try as he may, he couldn't remember anything. That night he couldn't sleep. 

Shakuntala in exile

The moons came and went, but King Dushyant became more and more absent-minded. He no longer participated in the councils of war. He would spend hours just staring through the window at the horizon. He kept trying to remember something, but nothing came to him. 

As time went on, King Dushyant became more and more unsure.  Night followed night and he couldn't sleep. Who was Shakuntala? Had he been wrong? What was the curse of Durvasa? And what was the meaning of the ring? He knew well the place where she had come from and yet when trying to collect his thoughts they seemed only broken shards of glass. His confusion cut him deeply but try as he might, he just couldn’t remember her.

Around this time at one of the markets close to the palace, a fisherman arrived with an important catch.  The merchants in the market stood around and listened as the fisherman began to brag about a great golden fish he had caught. Not only was the fish golden, but he had found  a fine golden ring in his belly. The merchants all laughed at him, but when he produced the ring they fell silent. 

One of the king’s men was in the market at the time and noted the scandal. 

"O fisherman, let me see this ring of gold," said the king's man.

With this, the fisherman produced the ring which he kept in a silk bag.

"Just see!" he said, laughing at his good fortune. "Who will buy this ring?"

The king's man said, "This ring is worth a lot of money. Where did you get it?"

"As I have told you," the fisherman said, "I found it inside the fish." 

"A likely story,"  the king’s man told him. “You are under arrest. This is the king’s royal signet ring. Come with me.” Guards siezed the poor fisherman.

The king's men took him away and imprisoned him in the dungeons deep in the heart of the palace, to await justice at the hands of the king.

But as the king brooded over the lost ring and the poor fisherman languished in the dungeons of the royal palace of Hastinapura, what had become of the fair Shakuntala?

Meanwhile, Shakuntala had been taken in an airship by an angelic nymph to the forest of Lord Shiva on the golden mountain of Kailash high in the Himalayas. 

Her mother, Menaka, the most beautiful apsara in all the court of Indra's heavenly kingdom had taken pity on her daughter. It was Menaka who had sent the airship to take Shakuntala away from the cruel Dushyant. And now she was being cared for by Sanumati, one of Menaka’s maidservants. 

There on that golden mountain Shakuntala had her child and named him Bharata. Bharat was a fearless boy with golden hair who would freely laugh, dance and play with lions and elephants, was happy in the arms of his mother the beautiful and innocent Shakuntala. Bharata would later become the greatest king of all the Indias.

Bharata was fearless and played with lions

And so Shakuntala passed her time in the abode of Shiva, high in the mountains, accompanied by Menaka her apsara mother and the dancing girls of heaven who took excellent care of her son, the young Bharata. 

The mysterious gold ring

One day, it came to pass that the fisherman was called to face justice for theft of a golden ring. King Dushyant, who was now more befuddled than ever by the curse of Durvasa, had heard  in court of the fisherman's tale of the mysterious ring.  He sent the king's men to the dungeon to fetch the fisherman. The fisherman appeared along with guards and humbly bowed before the king. 

"What is this man charged with?" he asked the magistrate.

The old magistrate, seated on a purple silk cushion, coughed and said, "Theft of the royal treasury, sire. He had in his possession a gold ring with the royal seal. We believe it to be your lordship's royal signet ring."

"And may I see this ring?" said the king.With this the magistrate waved his hand and an attendant brought the ring in a small box to the king. Dushyant scratched his head. He had no memory of such a ring, having been cursed by Durvasa. But when the attendant put the box in his hand, he opened it and saw  the royal ring that he had given to Shakuntala long ago in the mango grove by the tamarind trees. the king opened the small wooden box that held the ring. Immediately when he saw the ring, the fog was lifted from his memory.  The sight of the ring brought back all his memories of the young Shakuntala and how they had sipped the clear water of the Ganges together from a cup made of lotus leaves under the flowering mango tree in the grove by fragrant tamarinds. He remembered her smile, her laugh, her fragrance, her touch. 

His heart was now full of longing and was full of remorse for how cruel he had been. Immediately he understood all: Shakuntala's desperation, the curse of Durvasa, his own foolishness, and the injustice being paid to the fisherman.

Looking sternly at the fisherman in chains, he said, "How did you come by this ring?"

"One day, while fishing in the river Sachi, I hooked a gigantic fish. When we cut him open we found this golden ring inside. I have done no wrong. Please forgive any offense."

"Release this man," said the king to the magistrate. "And give him gold in equivalent value to this ring." And smiling at the fisherman, he said, "No, It is you who must forgive me. Go now and return to your river." And so saying, he rewarded the innocent fisherman with a bag of gold and sent him on his way.

The melancholy king

The king passed his days in melancholy and  remorse. Dushyant was wrought with remembrance of his harsh and arrogant words. He recalled how he had disdained Shakuntala and had banished her into exile. His memories made his sleepless nights worse. 

Where before he had tried to rekindle his memory, now he found it a curse. He now longed for the days when he had no memory.

Nothing could console him. He tried all the things he loved, the hunt, racing with elephants, consorting with his Queen, doting on his son the prince, playing chess, but all these activities were stale. Try as he may to forget,  nothing he could do would erase the memory of the fair, sweet Shakuntala, watering the papayas in the mango grove and smiling, her teeth like lines of pearls.

The king was so distraught he commissioned artists to draw her portrait from his memory. When they succeeded in creating a likeness, he carried it with him everywhere and spent hours staring at the painted portrait. He was lonely and melancholy.

None could make him happy save his fool, the clown who told him jokes and danced and laughed and played the one-stringed instrument. His fool, who had given him wise advice and had followed him into the forest when he fell in love with Shakuntala. The fool had a brilliant sense of humor and made him laugh. His tricks softened the king's heart.

With his forgetfulness, the king had become lax in maintaining his military arrangements. But now Dushyant's problems grew worse. In the forest around Hastinapura there were bands of marauding Rakshasas. They were known to tear men limb from limb and eat them. These cannibals struck fear into the hearts and minds of the residents of Hastinapura. It seemed as if daily someone fell victim to their criminal acts.

At last the fool was taken by the Rakshasas. The  demons had come as a ravenous hunting party, killing innocents, ravaging maidens, scavenging food. They caught the fool walking in the woods and took him away. It was rumoured that these terrible monsters moved through airships to the hill country above Hastinapura. 

Some said that Dushyant's friend was taken to a prison ship in the sky to be held ransom for the king's gold. 

Now even Indra, the lord of heaven, father of Arjuna, seeing all this took pity on the desolate Dushyanta, father of Bharata king of India. When the fool was kidnapped by a race of giants, Indra himself descended on a winged chariot to plead for Dushyant to help him in the battle. 

Winged chariots of the gods