Hindu Love Story: Chapter One

  

नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्

 देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्

महाभरत

Mahābharata

As retold by

Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi

Nala and Damayanti

  Having given a brief summary of the meaning and contents of the Bhagavad-Gītā, I now return the gentle readers to the history of the Mahābhārata. Much of the history of course, is quite well known, especially as it pertains to the conflict between the Kurus and the Pandavas. I will expand on that conflict in due course, but I thought it appropriate to leave behind the violence and conflict of the Kurukshetra war and digress into one of the more charming stories found within the Mahābhārata, that of Nala and Damayanti.

Damayanti and the Swam Messenger

  The story has oft been retold since days of yore, by the great poets Kalidasa as well as many other poets in Sanskrit and in the native tongues of India. The tale of Nala and Damayanti parallels the story of Yudhisthira and the loss of his kingdom through gambling at dice, which is why he asks to hear it. We join the Pandavas in their exile in the forest.

THE VISIT OF VRIHADASWA

The mighty-armed Arjuna had left his brothers to seek weapons from the gods.  And there in the forest they wandered: Prince Yudhisthira, Bhima the strong, the twins and the fair Draupadi.  Exile was cruel. They mourned the loss of their brother whose quick wit and sharp arrows had saved their lives many a time.  Yudhisthira’s fault was his gambling vice.  If only he hadn’t thrown dice with the cunning Shakuni, they wouldn’t have been forced to leave their kingdom.

Yudhisthira plays dice

 And, in the darkness of the forest, the bitterness of their austerities tore at their hearts and pride. 

Pandavas in Exile

Sometimes their grief was too hard to bear. Eating roots and berries in the forest was hard for a man like Bhima; even harder to swallow his pride. He wanted to fight. Even now they could ride back to Hastinapura and challenge the likes of Duryodhana and his allies to a fair fight. Why hide in the forest like bandits? With the powerful right arm of Arjuna they could take the city of the elephants and put their wicked cousin in the grave. But they had lost all to the deception of the cunning Shakuni and Yudhisthira's gambling vice.

One night as they sat before the fire, watching the embers burn low,  Bhima confronted his brother Yudhisthira, “You always talk of dharma, of rules. What if we follow your rules? The conditions of your gambling loss were hard, my brother. Twelve years of exile, and another year in hiding to pass undiscovered by our enemies. What if we follow the terms according to the law? What if we do everything perfectly? These men  are cheaters. What if after we come out of the forest, having followed the terms of exile and  this Shakuni comes again to challenge you. What if he says, 'Don’t be a coward, let’s play dice?' You cannot deny his challenge. Knowing the laws of kings you will accept.  

Pandavas and Draupadi

"You and your honor. You will play again to protect your honor and we shall be cheated again. I’ve had enough of these games. Let us ride forth now and make war on our enemies. I will bathe Draupadi’s hair with the blood of the men who insulted her and we will make an end of it.”

Bhima drinks the blood of his enemy, Dushashana

And Yudhisthira said, “We cannot break our vows now. We have almost completed our sentence. If I break my vow, men will say, years, hence, that I am a liar. I have given my word as a king to follow the terms of exile. But hear this: I have consulted with wiser men than I, sages who can foretell the future. I can assure you that without any doubt you and Arjuna shall slay the envious princes of Hastinapura at the end of our exile. There shall be no more games, but we must be patient."

"As I am honest, this shall come to pass. 

And while I fell victim to sinful men who vanquished me at dice by unfair means, this shall never happen again. I shall never again fall prey to the tricks of the cunning Shakuni. Mark my words.”

But Bhima laughed. He shook his head and threw his cup in the fire, disgusted. “Once a gambler, always a gambler,” he said. “Honest men are not cheated through the gambling vice. It was a sad day that you learned to throw the dice. You call it the game of kings. I call it the game of fools.” He glared at his brother, ready for a fight. 

Just then, they heard a twig snap only steps away. They fell silent. Great bears sometimes made their way through the forest here. Bhima had once killed a great Rakshasa man-eater, Hidimba on a night like this. The twins held their bows at the ready, alert to the intruder. 

“Don’t wake Draupadi,” said Bhima quietly. He turned and moved quietly towards the sound, his mace at the ready. 

“Perhaps it’s only the wind,” said Yudhisthira.

They heard the sound again, closer.

They called him Brihad Asva, which meant “big tree.” Perhaps it was because of the “big tree” where his guru had his ashram, or maybe it was because he was a big man for a forest sage. He was a seer of the truth, a tattva-darshibhi. 



He knew the past and could see the future. He had spent a long time in the Khandava forest.

Brihad Asva knew where to find the pure water of the forest and how to call the sacred fire from sticks. He could eat without hunting for he knew the flower-bearing trees and herbs and was blessed by the gods. He knew the Vedas and the histories called Puranas. He knew that the Pandavas were resting near here. He was a big man and as he tramped through the forest the night creatures fled before him. 

Through the branches of an old tamarind tree he could see the light of a campfire burning low, men stretching and relaxing before taking their night’s rest.

Brihad Aswa had walked a long way through the wilderness to reach this place. He could see that the Pandavas had picked the best place to make their camp. They were close to the Saraswati river and there were plenty of fruit trees. The clearing they had chosen was well-protected by thornbushes. He could see Bhima, and Yudhisthira the king. They were arguing while Nakula and Sahadeva kept the watch, bows at the ready.  Taking a step forward he stepped on twig. Bhima sprang into action. At once he picked up his mace and pierced the forest with his dark glance.

“Perhaps it’s only the wind,” said Yudhisthira.

“Who goes there?” said Bhima.

“Yudhisthira Mahārāja ki Jai!” said a voice in the night.

“I come in peace.”

Sword in hand, Yudhisthira had joined his brother. They peered into the moonless night, through the brambles, adjusting their eyes. A form came through the tall bamboo near the river’s bank. Yudhisthira touched his brother’s arm: “Hold,” he said.

“I come in peace,” said the voice again. They saw a robust man as large as a tree, clad in deerskin, a rope for a belt. His hair was piled on his head and matted. Through an unruly black beard his clear blue eyes and ready smile told them he was a friend. “Shanti, Om.”

Yudhisthira sheathed his sharp sword. Bhima rested his mace on the tamarind tree. They could see the man was a pilgrim, a saint, a truth-seer of the old school of forest sages. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Welcome to our humble camp,” said Bhima. “Excuse our manners, but there are bears in this forest.”

“Long live the king,” said the sage.

“And glory to the saints,” said Yudhisthira. You bless us, sir with your presence. Holy places are called “tirthas” or places of pilgrimage  not because of their monuments, but because of the great men who bless them from time to time with their footsteps. What brings you to the sacred river?”

“I heard from a passing brahmana that the sons of Pandu were here nearby and had to see for myself. I come here not to bless the holy places but to take your blessings, for you my dear king are dear to God Himself, Kṛṣṇa, and all the saints.



The whole world awaits your rule which will take place in only a few seasons of the sun.”

Yudhisthira said, “We have heard your name, Brihad Aswa, you are indeed like a great tree. A tree is both tolerant and humble and gives shade, shelter and fruit to many, while demanding nothing in return. As you have taken shelter of the great tree of knowledge who was your guru before you, you can give shelter to others. Forgive our fallen condition and accept my humble obeisances.”

And so saying, Yudhisthira and Bhima, moved by the humility of this tree-like man who had come so far only to serve the king, fell at the feet of Brihad Aswa with folded hands in prayer.

Brihad Aswa bowed low, gently taking the king by the shoulder and raising him to his feet. “You do me wrong, O king to honour me so. Please, arise. And tell me, how did you come to this place? How are your brothers?   And the gentle Draupadi? How does she fare in this dark forest?”

And so, having met with the tree-like sage in the moonless night by the sacred river, Yudhisthira and Bhima took him back to camp and did their best to make him comfortable and offer him what hospitality they could.

The following morning, Brihad Aswa arose early. And after he had bathed in the holy waters of the river and performed his morning meditation he met again with the Pandavas who entertained him with fresh drink and a hot meal. Draupadi had been blessed with a copper vessel that produced an endless quantity of freshly cooked rice and other victuals. Brihad Aswa asked the Pandavas of their travels in the forest and they told him all about their adventures. 

Finally,  when he had been fully refreshed and given a proper seat, the Pandavas wanted to hear  from him. Bhima said, “It was good you came when you did; my brother the king and I almost came to blows.”

“How could an honest and faithful warrior bound in allegiance argue with his older brother and king?” said the sage. 

Yudhisthira said, “It is my fault.  O saintly one, listen to my doubts and balance my mind. I am in a great crisis.”

“Yes, my son. Speak.” Said the sage.

“I have put my brothers and my kingdom at risk. I gambled away my wealth, my kingdom and my wife.”

Pandavas in Exile

Bhima interrupted, “But we can fight! We can punish Duryodhana and his cousins,” he said, flexing his arms.

“Let us hear your brother.” Said Brihad Aswa, shifting his position on his seat. “Continue.”

Yudhisthira picked up a mango leaf and studied it as he spoke. “I am a king. We have a code. When challenged, we must answer the call, whether to battle or any other conflict. 

He twisted the leaf between his fingers.

“Summoned by cunning gamblers skilled at dice, I was forced to answer the call. To refuse the challenge would be cowardice. If my allies knew I had refused a challenge they would consider me weak and join the opposition.”

Crushing the leaf between his fingers, Yudhisthira looked at his brother Bhima whose eyes still seethed with rage.

“I could hardly refuse the challenge of my cousins. And yet he employed his uncle, a cunning cheat named Shakuni, an expert with dice to destroy me. It is said that he cast his father’s bones into dice. He would talk to the dice and they would do his bidding for revenge. While I took the challenge I am not expert in games of chance and know little of cheating.” 

Yudhisthira cast the leaf aside and fixed Brihad Aswa with his stare. The sage listened carefully, taking a sip of clean water from a cup made of leaves.

Yudhisthira said, “I am an honest men. But these sinful men cheated me. They cheated me of my wife and brothers. They made me take an oath of exile and as my word is my bond I must keep my promise.”

“But now I have nothing. I wander as you see me here, dressed in rags and deerskin, sleeping under a tree.  I have lost my brother, the quick and sleepless Arjuna.  My wife is dressed in rags and has only scorn for my cowardice. My brother the mighty Bhima wants to ride me into battle. I am trapped by my promises, condemned by my vice, impoverished and cheated. If I decide for war, we shall be slaughtered. We are outnumbered and outmanned. Our allies are scattered. We are homeless and helpless, deserted by our friends. And yet if we strike prematurely we shall surely face destruction. How could this happen? A king is not supposed to despair. I am a man, a warrior. How long should I stay here in the forest like a criminal in hiding? I don’t think I can go on like this.”

The sage looked at the horizon. He could see the sacred river Saraswati in the distance. Its silver flow seemed to fade into infinity. He reflected on the words of the king and remembered the teachings of the ancient Puranas. His gaze met Yudhisthira’s

The king was disconsolate: “Has anyone ever suffered like me? Look at us." 

"We have been cast out, ridiculed, impoverished, stripped of kingdom and home and dressed in rags…Has any king every been more unfortunate than myself? 

“Tell me if you can of anyone who has fallen lower than I have, who  is more wretched than I am.”

“I am feeling the weight of this exile. My brothers and my followers are counting on me to return and rule my kingdom from Hastinapura. But the road is long.  I don’t feel I have the strength to continue on this harsh path. At the risk of being slaughtered like sheep I am sorely tempted to break my vows and seek revenge against these evildoers. Perhaps Bhima is right after all. It’s time to wreak havoc and mayhem on the sons of Dhritarasthra. But I am confused about my path. How do you see things?”

The tree-like sage sat in the lotus position. His meditation had taken him back into another time. He remembered the histories he had been taught. Brihad Aswa knew the importance of Yudhisthira’s promise and the depth of his despair. He became grave and began to tell his story.

“O great king,” said Brihad Aswa, “you are not the only one who has been in this position.”

“Tell me O sage.”

Nala

The forest sage Brihad Aswa sat in the lotus position, his back straight. 

"Brihad Aswa sat in the lotus position..."

He looked through the feathered canopy of the treetops to the blue sky beyond. He could see a pair a kokil birds fluttering through the leaves as they came to rest on a new branch.

“O  noble prince, do not lose heart." he said.

"O noble prince, do not lose heart."

"Your exile has been harsh. It is said that for one who has been honoured, dishonour is worse than death. Warrior kings die a happy death who die in battle. 

"Happy is the warrior who dies in battle..."

"Slow death by banishment is worse than torture.  Exiled from your home, your palace and wealth and the adulation of the citizens of Hastinapura, you have wandered the earth barefoot now for many years. 

“Dressed in deer-skin, the fair Draupadi has only the wind and the rain for her ornaments.  After the opulent feasts of victory at your Raja-suya sacrifice the  fruits of the forest are humble fare indeed. 

“Your brother Bhima here is itching for a fight. Even now he clenches his fists, thirsty for the blood of Dushasana. 

But suffering oft befalls the greatest kings. Remember Rama, the greatest king of all. His exile in the forest, his loss of kingdom more than equaled yours. 

Lord Rama

“The citizens of Ayodhya burned with anguish to see him go. His wife, the earthborn Sita, cruelly kidnapped. His battle with the ten-headed demon Ravana is legend in this forest.”

Yudhisthira replied, “But Rama was superhuman, God Himself.  How can a mere mortal equal the patience and grandeur that was Rama? You can’t expect me to follow the example of Lord Rama. Even now the earth resounds with his name. I am only a humble king, born in the lunar line of Bharata. And even when Rama returned to Ayodhya, he was welcomed by his brother. He didn’t have to fight a host of envious princes, bent on stealing his kingdom. Ravana was a supernatural demon, and Rama defeated him, but Ram was helped by the great Hanuman, himself blessed by the gods. 

“And now I am deserted by the swift Arjuna, killer of foes. I don’t see how my situation is at all similar. Please give me a different example to console me. Rama was virtuous and did not lose his kingdom by gambling. I have created a great sin by selling my brothers and wife into exile. The great Rama was never so foolish as I am. Help me to properly adjust my vision or so help me, I will follow the advice of Bhima and lead us into slaughter. Perhaps it is better to die on the battlefield as a hero, slaughtered by the sons of Dhritarastra than to wander aimlessly like a criminal in the dark forest. How can I compare my life to Rama?”

"Yudhisthira lost his kingdom, gambling at dice..."

Yudhisthira fell silent. Brihad Aswa looked at him with compassion. “Of course. We cannot imitate the avatars of God Himself. And yet Rama passed the required time of exile in the forest. He kept his word as do all great kings. We may not follow his example, but we may follow the rule of Rama-raja, the laws of kings. I merely cite the example given in scriptures. 

"I merely cite the examples given in scriptures..."

“By hearing the story of Rama we may reflect on how even the greatest of kings suffered before establishing his reign. But perhaps there is an example closer to your own situation. The history of great kings and their tragedies may bring us closer to understanding. You were born for greatness, Yudhisthira.  

“Your very name means ‘one who is steady in war.’ A war is not won merely by the struggle on the battlefield, but also in the preparation. To be steady in war is to be steady in peace. And war must only be engaged after all alternatives have been exhausted.  Allow me to continue my line of thought,” said the sage. 

Brihad Aswa paused. He sipped holy water from a small cup made from lotus leaves. He breathed deeply from the pure air of the forest. Bhima had relaxed his fists and sat quietly, listening. Yudhisthira was almost trance-like as he listened, controlling his breathing.

“Listen, and I shall tell you the story of a great man, a gifted king like you who fell into exactly such a condition as yours. He was gifted with the choicest virtues, noted for his skill in the game and the hunt.  He was a virtuous monarch whose kingdom was lost through the vice of gambling. 

“While blessed by gods, this king was all too human, born in your line. He too lost everything. His hardship was even greater than yours. Humiliated, cursed, exiled, scorned, ridiculed and given up for dead, he fell on the hardest times and lost all hope. But after suffering great reverses, he recovered both his kingdom and his love. Listen carefully and I shall reveal his story.

By this time Draupadi had joined the twins and all the rest gathered there to hear Brihad Aswa.

Yudhisthira smiled and said, “We thank you for your words of compassion. Please tell us O sage, the story of Nala and Damayanti.”

“King Nala was fond of dice. He was cheated by Puskara and exiled. When Nala was exiled he had neither brothers nor friends to help him. He had neither the wealth of kings nor a magic kettle such as Draupadi carries with her. 

"Draupadi had a magic kettle..."

Nala was cast out, stripped of his royalty, his chariots and elephants, his servants and palaces, and wandered alone in the forest just as you do. And yet he triumphed and his name lives in history. So, as other great kings have been in worse condition than you, you should not grieve.”

And as Draupadi looked on, Yudhisthira said, “Please tell the entire story. You are a great and eloquent rishi gifted in speech. I would like to hear the story of the illustrious Nala from beginning to end. This will give me great consolation. Please continue.”

And Draupadi said, “Please O great sage, tell of Damayanti. How was it that she was exiled along with her husband, who later abandoned her in the forest.”

Brihad Aswa looked at the group that had gathered there beneath the shade of the old tamarind tree and said, “very well, as you are intent on listening, I shall narrate this tale exactly as I heard it from my mentor.” 

“Nishadha is a land far away. It may be found in the very center of Bharata-Varsha, in the valleys of the Vindhya mountains. Long ago, before the present dynasty, there was a celebrated king among the people known as Nishadhas. His name was Virasena and he was a good ruler. 

“His son was Nala, and when Virasena passed on Prince Nala became the king of the realm. Nala was a handsome man and a kind and gentle ruler. While still a young king, he was versed in wealth and virtue.  He was gifted by the gods. Among his opulences were not only great wealth and kingship, but also physical beauty.  Like your brothers Nakula and Sahadeva, Nala was skilled with horses. He could speak their language and charm them. And when he rode his horses were swift as the wind.

“Nala was a strong and handsome  young man and while he had a special talent for horses, he was also respected by men. He was the head of many other kings who followed him. Tall and brilliant as the sun, he led the ancient race called the Nishadhas who lived near the kingdom of Vidarbha where Sita had once reined as princess.  

“Nala was a powerful warrior, heroic and fair like unto cupid himself. He loved games, especially dice; he loved to win.  He was the master of a great army of elephants, chariots, bowmen and horses. He was revered by all, for he was a great soul who had conquered his lower passions. Women everywhere adored him and admired him both for his wit as for his beauty. He was athletic and strong and moved with splendour and grace. 

“Nala was a man of many gifts: not only was he physically athletic and graceful, but he had a number of mystic powers besides. Some of his powers were natural and some god-given. From the gods he acquired the ability to conjure fire whenever he wanted. He was invulnerable to fire and could not be burned.  Not only could he create fire, he could conjure water at will through touch. As he was master of fire and water, he was also master at cooking and flavour. There are many Vedic shastras based on his instructions that teach the art of cooking.”

“And so it was that this great king blessed with many talents, skilled in taming steeds, ruled like a monarch among gods. He was deeply read in the Vedas and erudite in all the scriptures. And yet he had not yet taken a wife. While he was admired by all the women in the land, yet, absorbed in his kingly duties he had not sought out a life’s mate.”

“One day a brahmana came to his court, Damana by name. And as King Nala always took great care of brahmanas, he received Damana and offered him all the hospitality at his command. And as they sat in the courtyard of the king, Nala asked the brahmana:

‘What news? What can you tell of faraway lands, O Daman?’

And Daman said, “My dear King Nala, expert with horses, you should know that even now in the kingdom of Vidarbha there resides a great ruler.  His name is Bhima.”

Brihad Aswa smiled and looked at the Pandava brothers as he told the tale.  “Not of course to be confused with our own Bhima who sits so attentively listening to our story.” 

He continued. 

“Anyway, Daman the truth-seer spoke as follows to  Nala:

 ‘This Bhima is a great king; an expert in military arts who has conquered many lands. But for a long time while he had a beautiful wife, he was without child.  Many years ago I visited his court, just as I am now visiting you. His hospitality being warm, I was  pleased with him and by the mystic power invested in me, I granted his queen the boon of children. By and by  King Bhima had a jewel of a daughter and three famous and high-souled sons: these were the girl Damayanti and the three boys, Dama, Danta, and Damana, my namesake. This was many years ago.’

“Damana continued, ‘The queen of course was pleased to have such lovely children. And while the three sons grew up to be great warriors, proud and strong, the king’s daughter, the slender-waisted Damayanti,  is a great beauty endowed in every way with all excellence and charm, grace and good fortune, mild as the newborn moon but radiant as the sun. Even as we speak, her hand is sought by  by many a king and prince.’” 

"Damayanti" by Indian Painter Ravi Varma, Victorian Period

“‘Damayanti is a special beauty. While waited after by hundreds of hand-maidens who bath her and dress her in fine ornaments and jewels, she is neither vain nor proud. With her brilliance and grace, she walks amongst the fairest of her handmaids as elegant and perfect as lightning amidst a bank of clouds.’”

“Nala said, ‘This news is very wonderful. But what have I to do with such a fine maiden as Damayanti?’”

“The old truth-seer continued, ‘I am afraid you are quite well-known. The whole world resounds with the name of Nala. Nala the great horse-man, Nala the cook, Nala the fine athlete, Nala the king of men.’”

“‘But this is all simply vanity,’ said the king. ‘Whatever I have done is given by the gods. I do my best to rule the kingdom as did my father. What is fame? All vanity. But continue, my saintly friend. Your story is amusing.’

“The old truth-seer Damana said, ‘When Damayanti was even a child, playing with dolls on the marble floors of the great  palace of Vidarbha, she would often hear the name of Nala. Messengers would come before King Bhima, and the fair Damayanti would overhear their conversations. Men spoke of your deeds and exploits.’ 

‘It wasn’t long before she began to imagine how it would be to walk with your lordship through the green woods. The queen confided many things to me. She told me how her daughter spoke of you. Damayanti talked of how she would one day ride together with you, mounted on white steeds controlled by your mantras. She would laugh and blush among her hundred virgin handmaids when she spoke of living together with you in this great palace. And while she would blush at such thoughts, now that she’s grown she still holds you in her heart. News comes and goes from the kingdom of Vidarbha, and as the king’s heralds spread your fame, this fair maid, beautiful as heaven’s apsaras has begun to conceive a great attachment for the famous King Nala, your lordship.’”

“‘I thank you for this news, kind Daman,’ said the king, not without a certain gravity. And later that afternoon, having received charity and hospitality from Nala, the old truth-seeker returned to his pilgrimage, wandering through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains in the land of the Nishadha.

“The young King Nala himself was stunned by this news from the old truth-seer. And while, of course it was true that he had begun thinking of taking a wife, it had never occurred to him that a soul-disturbing maiden as fair as Damayanti could be thinking of him in such a light.

 “This wasn’t the first time that  Nala had heard of often heard of the beauty of Damayanti who was the fairest maiden in the three worlds. It was said that her chaste beauty disturbed even the gods themselves. And it pleased him to known from such a truth-telling brahmana as Damana, that  as she thought of him, Nala in like manner; He himself began thinking of the famous maiden, possessed of great beauty, chaste and innocent surrounded by a hundred virgin handmaids,  in her garden redolent of jasmine flowers. How could such a lovely maiden be thinking of him?

“In Vidarbha, Damayanti herself was charmed by the idea of wedding this tiger among men. She had heard that he was like cupid in his beauty, fearless, well-formed, expert with horses and a master chef who commanded fire and water. Indeed it was true that news reached her of his charms. 

“In this way, by constantly hearing of each others charms and virtues, even though  that great prince had never laid eyes on the lovely Damayanti, and that beautiful maid had never laid eyes on Nala, the two fell deeply and madly in love with each other.”

"And so it was that Nala was smitten by thoughts of the lovely maiden Damayanti.  To clear his minds he would take his finest stallion to the royal gardens and walk through its tall mango trees and reflecting pools. 

One morning, just before dawn he rode his swift horse on the green plains outside the palace walls. An as he raced along he saw a flock of golden birds making for the royal groves and gardens. 

Curious, he followed their path. He saw the birds alight within the grove, near a reflecting pond covered with  lotus flowers. Leaving his horse he moved lightly within the grove, making not a sound.  

Hidden by the mango trees that circled the pond he saw the birds were swans, their wings feathered with gold that gleamed as they sported in the waters. And fascinated with their golden wings, Nala chased them, on a whim he chased after them. 

They fluttered their golden wings and flew above the trees. But one of the swans did not escape his grasp. Nala caught this golden swan, holding it to his breast.

And as Nala admired  its beauty, the swan turned to him and said, “O King, release me and I will do you a great service.” 

Nala laughed. “Why should I release you? With your golden wings you would make a nice addition to my garden. Stay with me here and grace my lotus pond with your beauty, and everyone will wonder at your golden wings.”

“Release me,” said the swan. “For I can help you.”

Nala smiled. “How can a simple bird like you help a prince of the realm?”

“I have often seen you walk here in this garden, early in the mornings. Sometimes you sigh and stare at the waters and cry out the name of Damayanti.”

“And what have you to do with Damayanti,” he said, stroking the bird’s neck gently and looking into its blacks eyes.

“We golden swans wander from one royal pond to another.  I have been to Vidarbha, the ancient kingdom of Sita. I have seen Damayanti, the young maiden who has captured your heart. She walks within the courtyards of her gardens early in the morning. There she says her prayers and does her morning meditation. 

“And sometimes as I gracefully float over the crystal waters of that reflecting pond where red lotuses grow I hear her pine for love. She says your name over and over as if it were a prayer, ‘O Nala.’ I know she is in love with you. But if you let me free, I shall fly over her courtyard walls and go to her. There I shall tell her of your love. I will bring her message to you. We swans also know what love is. Let me free and I shall sail over the trees and range the skies until I arrive at the palace of Damayanti. Reaching her gardens I will tell that maid of your charms until she is burning with love for you.”

“Very well,” said Nala, releasing the swan. The swan messenger thanked the king. He rose on golden wings and left that place. And joining his friends those brightly winged birds flew before the dawn through cloudless skies, to the land of Vidarbha and the palace of King Bhima. 

“Over the walls of the  palace the golden birds flew until they found a garden of tall trees and marble fountains within the courtyards of the King. There they splashed in the waters of a small pond, near where Damayanti was walking with her hand-maids in the early morning light. And the young Damayanti was delighted to see those graceful swans with golden wings playing in the crystal waters of the pond. She splashed the water by the banks of the pond and the swans playfully ran here and there. 

“Damayanti frolicked by the waterside, chasing the swans. Her nimble hand-maids giggled and ran as the flock of golden swans scattered. Each girl joined the game and chased her swan, as they all went in different directions. Damayanti herself ran after the largest golden bird, a messenger from her prince Nala. And that swan messenger led the virginal princess away from her hand-maids into a secluded copse of ashoka trees. 

“And just when she was about to catch him and gather him in her slender arms the swan turned to her. Shaking the water from his plumes he raised his beak and spoke in human language, saying, “O precious maid, Princess Damayanti of Vidarbha, hear me.”

The princess Damayanti was surprised to hear a swan with golden wings address her in human speech. She listened, shocked, her hair standing on end.

“Listen to me,” said the swan. “I come from the court of a great prince far away. This prince is lord of the Nishadhas. His name is Nala. This tall and noble monarch is equal to the gods in beauty. He is like cupid himself, handsome and strong, envied by gods, Gandharvas, and men. 

“O slender-waisted maiden,” the swan continued, “while he is a great king, a man of character, he is sad and melancholy. Indeed he thinks only of you. He is unmarried but wants to take you, O princess as his wife and make you his queen.

“If you take Nala as your husband, the two of you will join your kingdoms and rule far and wide. 

“We golden-winged swans have seen gods and men, and even celestial beings like Gandharvas and Nagas. But never have we seen one like unto Nala.  He is a jewel among men, a god among kings.

“You are a pearl among fair ladies.  Say the word and I shall return to King Nala now, together with this flock of golden swans. I shall carry your message of assent and assure the wedding arrangements. 

“Rest assured that if you agree, you and Nala shall live in  peace for many years, ruling the kingdoms of Nishadha and Vidarbha from your palaces surrounded by your loving children in great happiness. Nala is the pride of men and you are the pearl of damsels. The matchless gift of love shall be yours, and when the peerless Damayanti weds the unrivaled Nala all shall rejoice. Your union shall be blessed by all the gods. ”

The poetry of the swan’s words pierced Damayanti’s heart and made her head spin. She swooned. But when she awoke the swans were still there, sunning themselves in the garden with their golden wings radiant in the morning light.

She blushed. “I thought this was a dream,” she said.

"Only give your word and we shall seek out Nala." 

“No dream,” said the swan. “Only give your word and we shall seek out your husband Nala in his gardens and give him the good news. The engagement will be formalised”

Damayanti’s fair complexion flushed pink. She smiled. “So be it,” she said. “If it be my fate to join my life with that great prince, then I must follow my heart. Tell Nala that I will be his.”

“Indeed I shall, fair Damayanti,” said the golden messenger swan.

The golden swans, satisfied with their task, once again took to the skies. They soared over Vidarbha and returned to the land of the Nishadhas the way they had come. And arriving once again in the garden of the courtyard of Nala they alighted before that noble prince and told him everything. 

“She has accepted your hand, O Nala. You need not doubt her. She returns your love and would join her hand with yours in marriage.”

Brihad Aswa continued, “As the golden swans soared overhead Damayanti could hardly believe what had just happened. And as days passed she became intoxicated with her infatuation. As she remembered again the sweet words of the swan, love burned in her heart and she could find no peace. 

Unable to confide in her hand-maids or even her mother the queen, she became melancholy. Her cheeks lost their blush and she became pale and wan.  She was lost in her own world. Damayanti wandered distracted like a madwoman. 

She lost interest in the banquets held by her royal father. And at night she couldn’t sleep.  “Oh, what shall I do?” she cried.

Her hand-maids and intimate friends could understand from her looks and gestures that she was upset,  but as she would not confide in them of her great love for Prince Nala, they were unable to trace out the source of her pain. 

By and by her hand-maids went to the queen and told her of Damayanti’s distress. The queen knew that the girl must be in love and went to the king.  

King Bhima said, “Why is our daughter so distracted? She takes no interest in food or drink. She looks pale. Is she sick?”

“Damayanti is in love,” she said. “I’m not sure how or where she conceived this infatuation, but I think she has fallen in love with Prince Nala of the land of Nishadha. You must take a hand in this.”

At last the king could understand what was troubling his daughter. He knew from all the indications that the princess was now of marrying age. And t was his duty as her father to seek a good match and marry her before she died of love-sickness. 

In those days as even now, it was customary for the king to arrange a svayaṃvara, where champions could compete by force of arms for the hand of a young princess. 

“Let us arrange a contest for her hand,” said the King. “I shall declare her svayaṃvara. Let this Nala come forth and challenge other gallant young men. And if she accepts him, let them rule as King and Queen.”

And so it was that King Bhima began to summon different kings and princes, sending his messengers and heralds about the land announcing the imminent svayamvara competition for the hand of his daughter, the fair Damayanti.

The date for the competition ceremony was set. All the important kings and princes began to arrive in the court of Vidarbha to compete for the fair Damayanti who was at this time wasting away, dying of love, pining for the day that Nala would come and rescue her. 

Those noble lords shook the earth with the thunder of their chariots and the roar of their elephants as they coursed towards Vidarbha. Many a fine young man rode hard on his stallion leading his soldiers to the land of King Bhima. They arrived with their battalions of soldiers in chain mail, with their round shields and arrows at the ready. 

The mighty king Bhima greeted those young suitors with flower garlands and ornaments and gave them fine apartments in the palace where they might rest until the appointed day.  And in this way thousands of armed men, kshatriyas all, arrived at the great palace of the king of Vidarbha.

And as the powerful kings and princes gathered to compete at arms for the hand of the fair Damayanti, the king of heaven took notice.

Indra: god of rain, riding his elephant, Airavata

“Where are all these warriors going?” he thought. “Will they engage in a terrible war? And why has no one told me?”

At that time the sage among gods, Narada, arrived in the heavenly kingdom of the master of clouds. The god of rain asked Narada, “Where have all the great kings gone? Here in my heavenly abode I am used to entertaining warriors and heroes. But lately they have stopped visiting me. Now I see clouds of dust as they march towards the kingdom of Vidarbha. Where are they going? What is the meaning of this?”

The wise Narada, counselor to gods, replied, “My dear king of heaven, the ruler of the Vidarbhas has a daughter, Damayanti. 

Her beauty surpasses all mortal maids. She is the darling of great warriors and heroes who have all gone to compete for her hand at her swayaṃvara.  She is a priceless pearl, a matchless beauty, fairer than any apsara in heaven, and kings and princes have gathered from the four corners to take up arms in her honor. It is a great spectacle that none can miss.”

And while the conversation with Indra was going on, other gods arrived there, including Agni, the god of fire, Vayu the wind-god, and Varuna, the god of water and rivers. 

Agni, god of fire

Hearing the words of Narada, Indra laughed. “Fairer than the apsaras of heaven? Indeed. If Damayanti is so beautiful that all the kings and princes will fight for her hand, perhaps she is fit for our  heavenly kingdom. Let us go there. If this Damayanti is worthy enough, perhaps I myself shall take her for my wife.”

Agni, the god of fire, said, “If she is good enough for the king of heaven, perhaps she is hot enough for the god of fire. I too shall go to Vidarbha and see this fair maid.” The god of death, Yamarāja himself, also joined them.

So it was that that Indra god of thunder and rain, Varuna the lord of seas, of lakes and rivers, Agni the fire-god, Vayu the wind-god and even Death himself, accompanied by their various attendants, mounted their respective air-ships and set out to Vidarbha where the great swayaṃvara of Damayanti was to take place.

Vidarbha

 Bribed Aswa continued, 

"Prince Nala, of course, was also on his way to Vidarbha. 

"When word reached Prince Nala that Damayanti would choose a suitor, he hastened to Vidarbha. He knew it was time for him to go and claim his love. He would stand before King Bhima and all the heros there and proclaim himself as the champion of Damayanti, ready to slay anyone who opposed him in mortal combat.

"He hitched his finest horses to his chariot and sped down the path, fast as the wind. As fortune would have it the gods had arrived on the path to Vidarbha just in time to find Nala on his way to the competition. 

"They were astonished at his beauty which was like cupid himself.  Many of the lesser gods, astonished at his beauty, left the path and returned to the heavens, thinking that they would never be able to compete with this mortal.

"Seeing this young man so determined, Indra, Yama, and Agni, alit from their airships and approached Nala, whose body glowed with physical strength and grace.

“'Oh Nala, King of Nishadha' said Indra, the leader of the gods from his airship, “You must help us.”

Nala stopped his chariot and looked in wonder at the skies, half-blinded by the light that parted the clouds. He saw the gods in their airships. “I am always at the service of the gods,” said Nala, surprised.  “Who are you? What would you have me do? I promise to help you in any way.”

And Indra said, “We are the masters of the universe, the majestic guardians of earth.”

And Nala folded his hands in prayer and offered his reverence. “Command me.” He said.

“Can we trust you to do our will.” Said Indra the lord of thunder.

“Yes. Let it be so.” Said the mortal Nala.

“We need you to be our messenger. Can you carry a simple message, O mortal one?”

“Of course. But I am blinded by your heavenly effulgence. Allow me to see you. Tell me who are you?”

“I am Indra, lord of heaven, king of gods, master of thunder. And this is Agni, god of fire. Here is Yama, lord of death. There is Vayu, god of rivers. We have come to ask you a special favor.”

“What can I, a mere mortal, do for the gods?”

“At the court of King Bhima an important contest will take place for the hand of a beautiful maiden, Damayanti. We need to carry a message to her. Can you be our messenger?”

“Of course.”

“Tell her that the guardians of the earth are coming to the ceremony. We gods desire to have her as wife. She may choose amongst us. As you are the most courtly of all mortals you will carry this message to her and she will say which of the gods she will marry.”

Nala folded his palms in prayer before the gods. “Forgive me, my masters. But what you say is impossible.”

Indra laughed. “Nothing is impossible.” He said. “Gods have often married mortals when it suited them. You are only a messenger.

“Excuse me, my lord,” said Nala. “I don’t mean that anything is impossible for your majesty. But this task is impossible for me.”

“I cannot carry your message. I cannot plead your cause to my beloved. You see, I walk this path for the same purpose. Even now, I am on my way to Vidarbha to declare my love for Damayanti and to challenge any man who opposes me in mortal combat.”

“Careful,” said Indra. “You have already promised to carry out our will. And it is not men that you challenge here before you. We are the gods of the natural universe. Would you challenge us? You dare?”

“But to enter the apartments and carry this message to Damayanti would be suicide. Her apartments are well-guarded by powerful soldiers now on the eve of her swayaṃvara. How would I enter there?”

“Nothing is impossible,” said Indra. “You have promised to act as our messenger. Do not defy the gods. And if you do our purpose you may be rewarded later. Go now and enter the bower of Damayanti. There she stands now, awaiting the return of the swan messengers. Go to her.” 

And so saying Indra and the other gods disappeared in a glow of radiant light. Nala strained his eyes but could no longer see the airships that had carried them from the heavens.

Nala was left alone on the path. Biting his lower lip in rage, Nala set out to do the bidding of the gods. He traveled swiftly from Nishadha to the kingdom of Vidarbha and as the sun was setting he could see the high palace walls, reflecting the last light of day. 

Emerging through the trees that lined the road he climbed a rocky hill and he surveyed the scene. He knew the wall to the garden where Damayanti waited in her bower from the description given by the swan-messengers who had told him of her love. He tied his horses in an unseen bower and alit, making his way on foot as the light of the sun was waning.

He reached the walls of Damayanti’s garden as night was falling, shadowing his steps. The light of the full moon was sufficient for him to find an opening in the back wall of the garden. Not far away, the guards were fast asleep. Perhaps the gods were kind after all.

And with the help of a fallen ashoka tree he scaled the wall. From his perch at the top of the wall he could see the fragrant gardens of his beloved, blossoming with jasmine flowers in the early moonlight. 

There was Damayanti. In his imagination he had never conceived of a woman so charming, so perfectly formed. She was surrounded by a hundred virgin hand-maids, each more enchanting than the other with lotus eyes, skin like porcelain, and hair black as a raven’s feathers. They giggled and gossiped together as they moved through the garden in attendance on their lady.

Damayanti moved more gracefully than the golden-winged swan.  He was struck to his soul. He drank in her delicate beauty: Her fine proportioned limbs,  ivory skin, and bee-black hair; her slender waist, and  the arched bows of her eyebrows which shot the fiery glances of her fair eyes as if they were darted barbs from an archer’s bow. Her warm smile charmed as she laughed with her hand-maids. It seemed the cool moonlight blushed before the warmth of her glowing beauty. 

Nala’s passion increased tenfold by finally seeing the object of his affection. His love grew warmer still as he gazed at her figure in the moonlight.

And yet he had to do the duty given him by the gods. What bitter fate: To advocate for Indra to his own dear beloved. How cruel the gods to give him such a task. He leapt down from the wall.

The hand-maids were shocked as Nala came over the wall.  Who was this intruder with his golden hair in matchless form?  They were speechless. One of them swooned. They thought, “Was this a god or a second cupid come to announce his love to their lady?  What splendour! A mighty hero come to steal their lady?”

Astonished by Nala’s personal charm the maidens that surrounded Damayanti approached him and began to praise him. “What a prince of men!” They said. “Is he a god or an angel sent from heaven?” They were struck dumb with wonder.

And finally Damayanti herself, struck with amazement, addressed him, saying, “How did you get past the guards? Are you a forest spirit, a Gandharva, or a god? What are you? O man of warlike features and godlike graces, how did you come to this garden? O sinless soul, O celestial hero, how have you come here and what is your purpose with me? How have you entered in our palace? How have you come here unseen?”

Nala replied, “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. 

Indra, god of thunder and rain

There is Indra, god of thunder, Agni, god of fire, Varuna, god of rivers, and even the Lord of Death, Yama himself wish.  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.”

Agni, god of fire

“Now you have heard the reason for my mission here and you must decide.”