नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
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.
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| Yudhisthira plays dice |
And, in the darkness of the forest, the bitterness of their austerities tore at their hearts and pride.
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| 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.
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| 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.”
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| 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.
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?”
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.”
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Pandavas in Exile
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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?
"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.
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| "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.
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| "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.
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| "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.
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| 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?”
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| "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.
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| "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.
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| "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.’”
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| "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.
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| "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.
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.
“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.
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.
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| Indra: god of rain, riding his elephant, Airavata |
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| Agni, god of fire |
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.
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| 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.
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| 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.”
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| Agni, god of fire |
“Now you have heard the reason for my mission here and you must decide.”
नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Damayanti
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| Damayanti and the Golden Swan |
As quickly as Nala had appeared, he disappeared in the night. And by and by the appointed hour came.
The svayamvara of Damayanti was held at the sacred hour of the holy lunar day. Kings and princes rode forth ready to compete in mortal combat. The suitors came fro far and wide. Some were richly dressed with silk robes, garlands, gold and jeweled earrings. Others wore helmets, chain-mail, and swords. These were robust nobles arms as strong as iron battle-maces. Their piercing eyes were like those of vipers. Rich, poweful, and handsome, these well-made men made their entrance like hungry lions eager for the chase, their strong jaws framed with brilliant locks of golden hair. There were noble heads with fine noses and the eyes and brows of kings. These princes and fierce warriors had come from far-off lands eager to find a bride in Damayanti the fair. As they joined the assembly they were given sitting places according to their status; they sat on thrones of silver and gold and inlaid wood awaiting their chance to compete in arms and court the beauteous young maid whose name was on everyone’s lips. As the wide river Bhogavatī is filled with snakes, as the mountain caves of the Himalayas are filled with tigers, so the wide assembly hall was filled with kings and princes.
And at the appointed hour, the fair Damayanti, princess of Vidarbha made her entrance, dressed in the finest silk, crowned with a silver tiara, her sweet glances burning fire into the hearts of the warriors assembled there. Bright as the moon she dazzled the kings and princes who were stunned to their souls.
Her radiance shined like the sun as she glanced about the arena looking for her champion.
“Where is Nala?” she thought.
But as she looked from one proud king to another, searching the face of Nala in the crowd of illustrious warriors, she could not see him anwhere.
She stood and smiled as the names of the kings were proclaimed. Each prince was named and his turn was called. Each stood and smiled, ready to challenge the others in feats of combat if necessary.
But as their names were called, Damayanti lowered her eyes and said nothing. Bewildered by this rejection, each prince sat down again restless in his place, awaiting the final decision of this proud maiden.
And as Damayanti looked among the throng of gathered princes, finally she saw Nala.
Nala her beloved. Nala the king of Vishadha. Nala the brave gallant who had scaled the garden wall. Nala the prince who had enchanted her 100 virgin handmaids in the pale moonlight of the ashoka grove.
But as she looked, she rubbed her eyes. There was Nala, her beloved. But instead of one Nala, there were five.
Did her eyes deceive her? Seated before her were five Nalas, each more Nala than the last. There were five identical Nalas. And finally her eyes found among those princes present a group of five individuals who all appeared exactly like Nala.
She remembered the words that Nala had spoken in the garden.
His message: “Oh beautiful maiden of virgin grace, My name is Nala. I am here as the messenger of gods. Your beauty has enchanted the lords of heaven. The gods are enchanted by you, and you must choose between them. All of them are here to compete for your hand at your swayaṃvara. There is Indra, god of thunder, Agni, god of fire, Varuna, god of rivers, and the lord of death, Yama himself. By their mystic power I was able to enter here without alarming the guards. And so it is that I have been sent here by the gods. Now that you know that your hand is desired by the gods themselves, do what you see fit. They desire to possess you. You must choose one of them at your wedding contest.”
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| Gods at the swayamvara of Damayanti: Clones of Nala |
Damayanti was baffled. “Choose one of them at your wedding contest.” Of course. The gods knew of her love for Nala. They knew that she had planned to choose the King o Vidarbha as her husband. The gods themselves, envious of the beauty of her beloved, were impersonating Nala. Sitting before her disguised as Nala were Indra, Agni, Yamaraja, and Varuna, who had taken the very form of Nala.
The crown princes of India were present, as were nobles and warriors from throughout the land. They followed the glance of Damayanti. Who were these mysterious suitors? They were perfectly alike. Which of the five suitors would she choose?
Damayanti could not tell them apart. She looked from one to another, studying their faces, but each version of Nala smiled impassively, revealing nothing with their eyes. Four of them were gods. Only one was Nala himself. If she chose a god, she would be bound to him for life. If she chose Indra, she would be queen of the heavens, consort of the lord of thunder and rain.
But she didn’t want a heavenly kingdom, she only wanted her earthly love for Nala, her prince.
The wide hall sat in silence.
The name “Nala, the King of Nishadha,” was announced.
The five Nalas rose from the silver thrones where they sat and stood before her with folded hands.
Damayanti kept looking from one to another. She prayed to Vishnu for guidance. She offered worship mentally and tried to see things more deeply. How could she choose? Four of these Nalas were copies, an illusion created by gods. One was Nala, a mere mortal.
She thought, “I must study carefully. The gods are perfect. Nala is imperfect. The gods are immortal. Nala is mortal.” Again she prayed to Vishnu within her heart. “ O Lord, reveal to me the imperfect form of my beloved. The gods are faultless, but he has must have some faults. Sharpen my vision. Let me see.”
All were quiet as Damayanti, trancelike, studied the five young men, each more alike than the last.
Her eyes began to focus. She noticed that one of the five perfect men cast a shadow in the dust. Indeed the dust covered his feet. His feet stood firmly on the earth. His flower garland, so perfect at first, had faded slightly with the heat of the sun. The roses round his neck had wilted. A few petals had fallen to the ground. His eyes intent with passion were fixed, but trembled slightly. He blinked. A fine perspiration stained his brow.
She looked again from one to the other. The others were too perfect. She noticed their feet. Their perfect lotus feet floated slightly above the earth, untouched by the dust. They cast no shadow upon the earth. No dust stained their garments. She noticed the flowers of their garlands. The lotuses were perfect. The roses shed no petals, nor did they wilt. Their perfect brows showed no perspiration. She studied their lotus-like eyes. They never blinked. Their gaze was fixed and perfect.
But one of these was mortal. His feet touched the ground. His brow strained with sweat against the noonday sun. With fading garlands, garments stained with dust, he cast a clear shadow on the ground.
The gods had played a cruel trick by impersonating the man she loved, but one of the five suitors was definitely mortal: Her Nala. She looked at him and smiled. She would not be fooled even by the magic of the gods.
And so Damayanti, the virtuous daughter of Bhima, stepped forward and chose her champion. Smiling, she lightly took the hem of his garment in her lotus hand while throwing the ceremonial floral garland around his shoulders. She turned before the crowd.
“This man I choose, before the gods and the assembled kings. He is Nala, King of Vidarbha.”
Many of the suitors felt cheated and cried, “No! This cannot be! Choose me!” and “Alas! This is a fraud!” While from that conclave of kings many shouted, “Hurray!” and “Well-done!” “Damayanti ki Jai!”
Nala raised his hand for silence. And when he could be heard he said, “O Damayanti, you might have chosen a god. You could have been queen of heaven taking one of these as your husband. I am no god, but a mere mortal. And yet with all my faults you have chosen me, in the presence of the gods. And since you have chosen a mortal for your husband, take this faithful vow: O maiden with the serene smile, I shall be yours in love as long as spirit fills this body. I say so truthfully before the gods and kings assembled here.”
With this, the gods revealed themselves : Indra, lord of the rain; Agnideva, the fire-god; Yama, Death himself, and Varuna, god of waters, lakes, and rivers. All rejoiced and were amazed.
At that time the gods blessed Nala with eight mystic gifts: The power to see the divine in the mystic sacrifice, and the physical power of grace was given by Indra. The power to invoke fire by mantra whenever he pleased was given to Nala by Agni as well as his own fiery character. The Lord of death, Yama awarded Nala with a fine discernment and taste in the culinary arts as well as eminent virtue, a deep understanding of dharma. While Varuṇa gifted Nala with with the power to conjure water whenever and wherever needed as well as garlands of matchless fragrance.
Each god having doubly blessed Nala and his beloved Damayanti. And having given their blessings, the gods called for their airships. One by one, Agni, Indra, Varuna, and Yama all departed for their celestial homes.
The great king Bhima, lord of Vidarbha solemnized the nuptials with a great wedding ceremony attended by all the kings and princes present who promised to honor the decision of the gods.
And so it was that Nala and Damayanti were married.
Nala rejoiced, having won the pearl of women for his own. In due course He brought Damayanti to his home in Naishadha having received permission from her father the great king Bhima.
And so it was that Nala and Damayanti passed their days in joy in Nala’s palace and ruled the kingdom of Vidarbha. They played at love in many a green forest and romantic woods and groves and soon Damayanti delivered him a son named Indrasena, and a daughter, also named Indrasena. Time passed and King Nala ruled the earth in riches and splendour with his queen the beautiful Damayanti.
But when the gods were returning to their heavens they an envious supernatural being, Kali.
He was on the road to Vidarbha with Dwapara. And when the gods inquired, “Where are you going, Kali?” He replied, “I am going to Vidarbha with Dwapara to the svayamvara of Damayanti.”
And the gods headed by Indra told him, “Haven’t you heard? The swayaṃvara is finished. She has already chosen. She chose this mortal in front of us. Even now she is being married to Nala.”
And Kali said, “This is an outrage. How could she choose before the great Kali had arrived. For this offence, I curse her. And Nala. Damayanti is accursed and shall suffer. I shall have my revenge.”
But the gods said, “Be careful of your curses. We gods have sanctioned this union. Cursed be he that causes them any mischief.”
But Kali continued on his way with Dwapara, resolved to destroy Nala. He spied on the wedding ceremony and saw that he was too late. And so Kali followed them to the kingdom of Nala, determined to have his revenge.
Nala and Damayanti
Kali and the Dice
By and by Damayanti had two children: a daughter, Indrasena, and a son, Indrasen. Nala ruled his kingdom with a fair hand and practiced the Vedic sacrifices. There was abundance in the land.
But Kali roamed the kingdom of the Nishadha’s waiting for his chance. Now this Kali was kind of Gandharva, evil in character, dark and sinister in every way. This dogfaced devil was coal-black with a huge tongue. The pestilent stench of rotting meat pervading his flesh. Kali had to power to possess men’s souls. He would enter into them and provoke them to sinful acts. Even today Kali’s influence is felt, for this is his age, Kali-yuga. He is present wherever there is meat-eating, intoxication, illicit sex, and gambling. He stands against any religious principles, especially austerity, cleanliness, mercy, and truthfulness. The envious Kali delights in promoting war, envy, hatred and lies. He was born in a long line of monsters from lust and incest. He was the son of Krodha, Anger, and his sister, Violence. And as his influence becomes more and more profound, mankind itself is cast into the abyss of anger, violence and sin. Slaughterhouses, children bearing arms, and the destruction of the planet are all aspects of Kali’s influence. Alas for Nala, the satanic Kali plotted Nala’s ruin. He entered into the land of Nishadha and began observing King Nala, waiting for his opportunity to enter into him, for Kali was a powerful supernatural being who could enter into the body of a man who had committed a sin and control his spirit, further corrupting him.
But Nala was without sin. Kali watched and waited for his opportunity, hiding himself by becoming invisible. He bided his time, haunting the palace where Nala ruled. And as a ghost he followed Nala, day and night for 12 long years. Some say that Kali-yuga lasts 12,000 years, and that the 12 years time the Pandavas must spend in the forest reflects a fraction of this time.
Finally, his time came. One day Nala went to perform his worship without having washed his feet. He was in an unclean state, and yet, so contaminated, performed his worship. Kali saw his chance. He seized the moment. Entering Nala’s body, Kali’s spirit infected that great king with his influence.
Now that King Nala had been infected by the spirit of Kali he suffered under his power. He was no longer himself. He began to miss his morning prayers. He became forgetful of his pious activities. He no longer invited the saints to discuss with him the deep meaning of the scriptures. He gradually sank into ignorance.
And now that Nala was under his influence, Kali left him for a time. In order to fulfill his plan for revenge, Kali had bound him in a spell of discord, and as Nala was under his spell, the demon Kali himself left Nala’s physical body for a time.
In order to further his plans of vengeance against Nala, Kali went to another king, Pushkara, who was Nala’s brother and ruled in another part of Nishadha. He brought Pushkara under his influence by playing on his greed and envy. He promised Pushkara an easy victory in gambling against Nala. He said, “Invite Nala to play dice with you. Have no fear, for my power shall enter into the dice and determine the outcome. Bet any stakes you like. I shall make the game look sporting, but in the end you will surely defeat him. In this way, you can win his kingdom and all his wealth. You shall rule both Nishadha and Vidarbha as the uncontested King of all the realm.”
With flattery, lies and sweet words Kali brought Pushkara under his influence. Kali left him and returned to Vishadha where Nala dwelled, falling gradually deeper under his spell. Kali possessed him entirely and brought him under his control.
Pushkara passed many sleepless nights thinking of the vast fortune that awaited him. All he needed to do was throw the dice with his brother. He waited a certain time and then arranged to visit Nala.
Arriving in Vishadha, Pushkara was welcomed by Nala with all the hospitality at his disposal.
“My brother,” he said. “It gives me such great pleasure that you have visited me after such a long time. Stay with me here in my Palace and we can rule together.”
“I am not qualified for such an honor,” said Pushkara, “but let us pass some time together.
And in the evening as they sat admiring the sunset, Pushkara spoke to Nala as follows:
“You are expert in so many things, my brother: Horses, women, food, and even gaming at dice. But this evening I see my lucky star even now in the heavens. I’m feeling lucky. Let’s have a game of dice. You, of course, are far more expert. But I think this is my lucky day.”
Nala said, “My gaming days are over. Now that I am married I have so many responsibilites. It’s not a good idea. Let’s have some other entertainment.”
With this, Damayanti entered with he handmaids and resfreshments.
“How wonderful that your brother has come to visit,” she said. “If you like I shall have the court musicians play.”
And Pushkara said, “We were just about to have a sporting game of dice.”
Nala smiled. “Well, if you insist on losing, let’s play fro friendly stakes,” he said. He clapped his hands. A servant appeared. “Bring the gaming tables and the dice.” He said.
The tables were laid for dice, fine carpets and pillows were set out. Drinks were brought. The two brothers settled in to play. And as they played, the king’s ministers joined them, interested in the game. Even the residents of the palace and townspeople came out to see the play. They sat quietly as the two brothers roled the dice.
“You go first,” said Nala, gallantly, although he was now fully possessed by Kali.
“What stakes shall we lay?” Said Pushkara.
“Let’s play for friendly stakes. I wager a bowl of rice.”
“Done,” said Pushkara.
They threw the dice and Pushkara lost.
“You see,” said Nala. “It’s not your lucky night after all. Let’s have the musicians, then.”
“You must let me have my revenge,” said Pushkara. “Let’s wager a sack of rice.”
“Very well,” said Nala.
They threw the dice again. Again Pushkara lost.
“Where’s your luck now?” said Nala, enjoying himself.
“Well, perhaps the stars need a better wager. Instead of rice, I’ll wager silver on the next throw.”
“Suit yourself, my brother,” said Nala.
At this point Nala was fully under Kali’s influence. Kali no longer needed to possess him fully. The demonic Kali left Nala and entered into the dice. They threw the dice again.
“I win.” Said Pushkara. “Perhaps this is my lucky night.”
“Skill will beat luck.” Said Nala, “Let’s throw again.”
“My chariot against yours.” Said Pushkara.
And so Nala began to bet and lose. He lost his chariots, his silver and then they played for stakes of raw and refined gold, wagons, elephants, teams of horses, and silk clothes. Nala became crazed by the thrill of the dice. The people watched in horror as he began to lose everything. He couldn’t stop. He lost his wealth throw after throw. But on and on they played, until Nala had lost everything.
They played long into the night, and Nala would sometimes win enough of his wealth back that he would get his hopes up and make even more extravagant wagers in a mad attempt to win everything back. And then he would lose again.
The game went on.
They played day after day. The townspeople stood in amazement. The king’s counsellors came and advised the king it was time to stop his foolishness, but under Kali’s influence Nala could not stop.
The ministers told the king that they had important business; the games should be suspended. The people were becoming impatient with the corruption of their king. And Damayanti, besides herself with worry, told Nala it was time to stop with his vice.
But Nala, inflamed by the gambling madness had lost everything. He was stunned by his constant defeats. He would listen to no counsel but played on and on. Damayanti, understanding that Nala’s madness would lead to ruin, sent her children with Nala’s trusted charioteer to the kingdom of Vidarbha and her father, Bhima.
After Pushkara had won everything from Nala, they played for his kingdom and all his lands. Again he lost. And when Nala had nothing further to lose, Pushkara said, “What are the stakes now? All you have left is the lovely Damayanti. Very well. Let us play for her. Let’s be fair. I stake everything you have lost against the fair Damayanti. If you win, you win everything back. If I win, I take Damayanti.”
But Nala had had enough. He looked Pushkar in the eye as he stripped off his silk garments and fine ornaments until he was dressed only in a loincloth. Laying his clothes in a pile before the greedy king, he said, “Take your winnings,” and left the court.
He walked to the palace gates and kept walking. Leaving the city, he set out for the forest. There he spent three nights with his wife. But the cruel Pushkar gave a royal decree. “Nala is exiled. Any and all who show him any attention or help shall be condemned to death, effective immediately.”
And so, O Yudhisthira, Nala was exiled to the forest. The citizens abandoned him. They neither gave him refuge nor offered him hospitality, but closed their doors to the king. He was left to starve in the forest with only his loincloth to protect him from the cold.
Nala and Damayanti
Exiled
Brihad Aswa continued,
"O Yudhisthira: You who lost your kingdom to the dice. Hear me as I speak the story of Nala, a king who also lost everything.
"As the gaming went on Damayanti took the precaution of sending the children in a swift chariot guided by Varshneya to Vidarbha and shelter with her father, King Bhima.
"Meanwhile the dice did Pushkara’s bidding as Nala lost again and again...
Finally, the noble Nala, infected by the spirit of Kala, had lost everything. Pushkara smiled, “What can you stake now, Nala? I would have you win everything back. It is not fair that you have lost so much. Stake the fair Damayanti as your wager and let us throw the dice again.”
But Nala’s heart was broken. Even under the influence of Kali, he could not go so far.
“Then if you cannot stake anything further, go.” Said Pushkara. “This is no longer your kingdom. Leave and enter exile. I command you as the King of Vishadha, which is now mine.”
Stripped of his fine dress and ornaments, Nala left that place. And so it was, O Yudhisthira, that Nala was exiled to the forest. He wandered half-naked, dazed, covered only with a loincloth. Possessed by the spirit of Kali, desolate and ruined, he wandered in a fog.
The citizens abandoned him. They wanted no part of a mad king who would gamble his riches away. No one followed him into the forest to bid him farewell.
As the mad and forlorn king wandered away, Pushkara, Vishadha’s new ruler issued laws against his brother. Whoever helped him or gave him succour would do so on the pain of death.
Whoever offered Nala food or shelter would be condemned before a tribunal and put to death or imprisoned.
And so the citizens neither gave him refuge nor offered him hospitality, but closed their doors to Nala, the fallen king.
Only Damayanti followed him. Dressed in only her sari, Damayanti slowly followed him from a distance. She could understand that he was in the grip of some madness, but could not desert him in his hour of need.
Nala was exiled. His brother ordered him to live in the wilderness, where his citizens left him to starve with only his loincloth to protect him from the cold. Pushkar had imprisoned Nala’s friends. His reign of terror had begun. None dared defy the tyrant’s power.
For three nights Nala wandered, followed by the faithful Damayanti. With only water to drink, they began to starve. They ate leaves and herbs, fruits and the roots of the earth. Outcast and doomed, dying of hunger, after some days Nala saw two strange birds, big as eagles, gold in color. The influence of Kali inspired him to the hunt. And thinking, “This is my chance. We must eat. I can trap them in my cloth,” He stalked his prey and using his loincloth as a net cloth, threw it over the birds.
But suddenly the twin golden birds took his cloth in their beaks and rose in the sky. As they carried away his cloth the birds laughed. They said, “O fallen and miserable king, know that we are the dice you played with. We have taken this form to steal your cloth. You lost all to us, and so we also take your cloth. Our joy at victory was incomplete as long as you were clothed. Stripped of your cloth may you die of hunger and cold, naked and abandoned in this forest.”
As the golden birds flew away with his cloth, Nala was Nala turned to Damayanti and said, “O blameless Damayanti: I am condemned. Damned to die of hunger in the forest. Leave me.”
Nala hung his head and covered his face with his hands. Struggling against the influence of Kali, he said, “I am cursed by the gods. I was foolish to defy their will. I have offended the gods and now they want revenge. Abandon me to my fate. Deprived me of my wealth and kingdom my enemies are leaving me to die in shame in the forest. I cannot help myself. Even the birds steal my garments.You must go. Leave me to my fortune.”
He pulled himself together and stood up straight, shaking off the demon’s spirit for a moment. He said,
“Hear me, princess and profit from my loss.”
As night began to fall in the forest, Nala pointed through the trees to the south.
“O Princess, there is the path to the south, passing by the city of Avantī.”
He gestured towards the east: “Rikshavān is that way; there is the mighty Vindhya mountain where the hermits dwell and there the river Payoshṇī that runs to the sea.”
He pointed to the west where the sun was just kissing the horizon. “This is the way to Kośala. Go along the path and you will find the road to Vidarbha. Take the road to Vidarbha, pass through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains and return home to your loving father, the great king Bhima. Leave me to my fate, to die alone and starving, forlorn, cursed and doomed by the gods.”
Exhausted, Nala sat beneath a large and knotted banyan tree covered with hideous strangler vines as the birds fell silent. Darkness began to envelop the forest.
Damayanti stood before the fallen king. She heard the screech of an owl. Soon the creatures of the night would begin to prowl in search of prey. In a voice choked with grief, she said, “O Nala. My heart flutters like a wounded sparrow. O once proud king. How have you come to this? Perhaps it is true what people say; you are possessed by some dark demon who has led you to this fate.
“My Nala. My throat is dry. I have no words. I would break into tears, but starved for drink, no water comes to my eyes. Robbed of kingdom and riches, naked, thirst-worn and hungry, you are speaking like a madman. Before the gods I bestowed the garland upon you. When even Indra and the Lord of Death wooed me, I chose you. How shall I abandon you now to starve to death in the dark forest, cursed by the gods?”
“For a man in sorrow and distress there is no friend or medicine like a good wife. How can I go and leave you alone and naked in the woods to die of hunger?”
“Come. Let us go to my father. He will give us shelter. He will welcome you as the great king you are.”
Now the forest was dark. Now that the sun had gone, the cool moon had risen and chill began to enter the earth.
“No. I cannot.” Said Nala. “For one who has been honored, dishonor is worse than death. How can I appear before him in my present condition. Look at me. I don’t have so much as a cloth to cover my nakedness. Your father saw me at my noblest hour, and now I am miserable.”
“Come. Live with me and be my king in my home in Vidarbha. Our children have already gone there, led by our brave charioteer, Varshneya. There you can gather your allies together and march against the usurper. Defeating your brother, you can regain the kingdom.”
“No. I must meet my true fate here. Whether I am cursed by the gods or no. For if the gods are angry, neither you nor your father shall escape their wrath.”
“Then I cannot abandon you. We shall meet our fate together. The gods were once pleased with me; perhaps they shall be again.”
Nala was moved. “And I shall never abandon you, my Princess,” he said. He leaned his shoulder against the great banyan tree, supporting himself on one elbow. He spoke slowly, his tongue thick. “I may be mad, or possessed by demons. I cannot say why I was impelled to game at dice. I may be cursed by the gods or driven by some devil, but I shall never abandon my love for you.”
Nala’s eyes rolled back, he was losing consciousness.
“Fear not that I would ever leave you, fair Damayanti. You are right: there is no medicine like a good wife. I might abandon my kingdom and even lose myself to madness, but I shall never leave you. I give you my word.”
The chill of the evening had set in. Nala was exhausted. He had passed out. Damayanti laid his head carefully on a root of the generous banyan tree. And, taking pity on her fallen lord, she tore the hem of her silken sari and wrapped Nala in half of her garment, that the cold would not chill him to death.
And so barely clad in only half a garment each the great and handsome king of Vishadha and the princess who had been sought by the gods slept in the arms of the great banyan tree while tigers stalked the cruel forest of exile. Where they were used to sleeping on feathered cushions and silk pillows, now they had only the roots of a tree for a pillow. They slept with only the hard earth as a bed, half-naked in the mire, stained with dust under the cold moon.
Wild boars slept in the bushes. Even the bears, stags, and other wild creatures that often roamed those woods lay dormant. Damayanti slept quietly, nestled in the arms of Nala, with a root for a pillow with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine as her perfume.
Kali was a demonic spirit. And devils never rest. The spell of Kali was on Nala, who could not sleep. Flying insects stung his face and hands in the dark. His skin burned, but his conscience burned even more. How had he lost everything? Why was he exiled, when his brother now ruled his kingdom. He burned for revenge. The croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets disturbed his sleep. He tossed and turned. The spirit of Kali would not let him rest.
And while Damayanti slept on the cold earth, Nala was tormented in his mind by the spirit of Kali. He burned with anger and sorrow. He burned for his lost kingdom and the friends who had so quickly deserted him. Hungry and exhausted, he awoke.
Sitting up, he felt he was no longer naked. His wife had torn her cloth, giving him half her garment. He bound the cloth around his thighs and glanced about him. As he looked around in the darkness, he could barely make out the forest path. It was West to Vidarbha, through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains. East led deeper into the gloomy forest. His head burned with anger. His entrails burned with hunger and thirst. “What next?” he thought.
Now the spirit of Kali who dwelled within Nala consumed him and inspired him with dark thoughts. “I must go,” Nala thought, “Better for me to leave this place and take the path into the forest. Damayanti will find her way home. If she stays with me in exile it will only be worse for her. Why did I let her follow me?”
He heard a sound. A wild boar passing in the forest? Food. He could hunt. He arose, half-clad, and moved towards the sound. Nothing.
Nala looked at his wife sleeping peacefully. “What if I leave now?” He thought. “Better to go now. She won’t listen to my arguments. She will follow me to my death in exile. It would be selfish of me to allow her to die of starvation here in the forest.”
The sky was gray now; the first light would not be long. Damayanti would awaken. He was resolved to meet his fate in the forest. Return to Vidarbha would only mean public humiliation. Sooner or later Pushkar’s men would hunt him down like an animal. Without allies he was lost. But Damayanti could survive alone. She could go to Vidarbha and live with their children and King Bhima would protect them. Nala took a few steps into the forest.
Nala looked down the path before him. Soon the creatures of the woods would stir. The tigers who roamed the night would awaken their cousins who roam at day. Together they would seek their prey along with bears, wild boars, and other strange animals. And hunger and thirst would diminish their chances of survival.
“But which is worse?” he thought, “To die in exile, abandoned, or to abandon the one I love? How can I abandon the only person who stood by me in shame and exile? She is so devoted to me that she would suffer shame and injury, even death to follow me into oblivion. How can I leave her?”
Possessed by the ghost of the demon Kali, Nala could not think clearly. He reasoned, “Still, even if she hates me, she loves our children. She will seek out her father in Vidarbha. The gods will protect her. At my side, she is cursed; without me, she may yet survive. Her only chance at survival is if I leave her. The gods wooed her once. They may yet protect her.”
He took a few steps down the path, then turned for a last look at his beloved. His soul was twisted by the influence of Kali. Surely it was a sin to abandon his wife to her destiny in the forest, he thought as his head ached. “And yet, bereft of me, while she shall surely lament, she will no doubt find her father in Vidarbha. As for me, I am doomed to die here. Better for both of us if I go.”
In this way, that wretched king agonized over his decision. “She is my loyal and devoted wife. She defied the gods to choose me and give me the wedding garland. She has great power. Her virtue is so great that none dare harm her, even in this lonely forest.”
Nala’s perverted thought could find no other reasons than those given him by the wicked Kali. And so by Kali’s influence he left her.
He walked back up the path to where Damayanti lay, sheltered by the Banyan’s roots. And brushing aside a spray of night-blooming jasmine that sheltered her forehead with its fragrance, he kissed her gentle brow. And just beneath his breath Nala said, “Farewell my love. Farewell my faithful. O blessed wife: you who neither sun nor wind has ever marred; whose grace and beauty never fades: you lay sleeping on the cold hard earth for my sins. Half-clad for you have given me half your garment, you have followed me into cruel exile. Go you now to your father. Tell him how unfit I was to father your children. Go and live in peace. Follow me no further into the dark forest, but take the path to Vidarbha. May the sun and the wind protect you. May the gods who once wooed you as a maiden protect you now as the mother of my children. As you are always chaste, may your virtue protect you now from this savage forest where wild beasts and serpents dwell.”
On bended knee, he leaned over the sleeping Damayanti, smelled her fragrant hair again kissed her on the forehead. Then standing up straight, he walked away.
Leaving that noble Banyan tree with its generous, sheltering roots behind him, Nala began on the path into the depths of the dark woods, bereft of sense, bewildered by the influence of Kali.
And taking two steps forward on the path, he stopped and took a step back. His love for the chaste and virtuous Damayanti dragged him back, but the madness born of the demon Kali once again possessed him and he took the path into darkness, reft of sense. And as he staggered away into the forest, the kokil birds who were awakening to the dawn heard the frantic king moaning in misery as he deserted the sleeping Damayanti.
Gradually the sun’s rays entered the bower where Damayanti slept in the arms of the old banyan tree. And as the gentle warmth spread through the forest floor, Damayanti awoke, refreshed from her slumber. And yet when she awoke and found that Nala had gone Damayanti was surprised. “Nala?” she said.
“He must have gone to collect fresh herbs and fruits,” she thought. “Nala?” But the forest was silent.
नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Damayanti
 |
| Nola leaves Damayanti |
Nala Deserts Damayanti
Wild boars slept in the bushes. Even the bears, stags, and other wild creatures that often roamed those woods lay dormant. Damayanti slept quietly, nestled in the arms of Nala, with a root for a pillow with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine as her perfume.
Kali was a demonic spirit. And devils never rest. The spell of Kali was on Nala, who could not sleep. Flying insects stung his face and hands in the dark. His skin burned, but his conscience burned even more. How had he lost everything? Why was he exiled, when his brother now ruled his kingdom. He burned for revenge. The croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets disturbed his sleep. He tossed and turned. The spirit of Kali would not let him rest.
And while Damayanti slept on the cold earth, Nala was tormented in his mind by the spirit of Kali. He burned with anger and sorrow. He burned for his lost kingdom and the friends who had so quickly deserted him. Hungry and exhausted, he awoke.
Sitting up, he felt he was no longer naked. His wife had torn her cloth, giving him half her garment. He bound the cloth around his thighs and glanced about him. As he looked around in the darkness, he could barely make out the forest path. It was West to Vidarbha, through the valleys of the Vindhya mountains. East led deeper into the gloomy forest. His head burned with anger. His entrails burned with hunger and thirst. “What next?” he thought.
Now the spirit of Kali who dwelled within Nala consumed him and inspired him with dark thoughts. “I must go,” Nala thought, “Better for me to leave this place and take the path into the forest. Damayanti will find her way home. If she stays with me in exile it will only be worse for her. Why did I let her follow me?”
He heard a sound. A wild boar passing in the forest? Food. He could hunt. He arose, half-clad, and moved towards the sound. Nothing.
Nala looked at his wife sleeping peacefully. “What if I leave now?” He thought. “Better to go now. She won’t listen to my arguments. She will follow me to my death in exile. It would be selfish of me to allow her to die of starvation here in the forest.”
The sky was gray now; the first light would not be long. Damayanti would awaken. He was resolved to meet his fate in the forest. Return to Vidarbha would only mean public humiliation. Sooner or later Pushkar’s men would hunt him down like an animal. Without allies he was lost. But Damayanti could survive alone. She could go to Vidarbha and live with their children and King Bhima would protect them. Nala took a few steps into the forest.
Nala looked down the path before him. Soon the creatures of the woods would stir. The tigers who roamed the night would awaken their cousins who roam at day. Together they would seek their prey along with bears, wild boars, and other strange animals. And hunger and thirst would diminish their chances of survival.
“But which is worse?” he thought, “To die in exile, abandoned, or to abandon the one I love? How can I abandon the only person who stood by me in shame and exile? She is so devoted to me that she would suffer shame and injury, even death to follow me into oblivion. How can I leave her?”
Possessed by the ghost of the demon Kali, Nala could not think clearly. He reasoned, “Still, even if she hates me, she loves our children. She will seek out her father in Vidarbha. The gods will protect her. At my side, she is cursed; without me, she may yet survive. Her only chance at survival is if I leave her. The gods wooed her once. They may yet protect her.”
He took a few steps down the path, then turned for a last look at his beloved. His soul was twisted by the influence of Kali. Surely it was a sin to abandon his wife to her destiny in the forest, he thought as his head ached. “And yet, bereft of me, while she shall surely lament, she will no doubt find her father in Vidarbha. As for me, I am doomed to die here. Better for both of us if I go.”
In this way, that wretched king agonized over his decision. “She is my loyal and devoted wife. She defied the gods to choose me and give me the wedding garland. She has great power. Her virtue is so great that none dare harm her, even in this lonely forest.”
Nala’s perverted thought could find no other reasons than those given him by the wicked Kali. And so by Kali’s influence he left her.
He walked back up the path to where Damayanti lay, sheltered by the Banyan’s roots. And brushing aside a spray of night-blooming jasmine that sheltered her forehead with its fragrance, he kissed her gentle brow. And just beneath his breath Nala said, “Farewell my love. Farewell my faithful. O blessed wife: you who neither sun nor wind has ever marred; whose grace and beauty never fades: you lay sleeping on the cold hard earth for my sins. Half-clad for you have given me half your garment, you have followed me into cruel exile. Go you now to your father. Tell him how unfit I was to father your children. Go and live in peace. Follow me no further into the dark forest, but take the path to Vidarbha. May the sun and the wind protect you. May the gods who once wooed you as a maiden protect you now as the mother of my children. As you are always chaste, may your virtue protect you now from this savage forest where wild beasts and serpents dwell.”
On bended knee, he leaned over the sleeping Damayanti, smelled her fragrant hair again kissed her on the forehead. Then standing up straight, he walked away.
Leaving that noble Banyan tree with its generous, sheltering roots behind him, Nala began on the path into the depths of the dark woods, bereft of sense, bewildered by the influence of Kali.
And taking two steps forward on the path, he stopped and took a step back. His love for the chaste and virtuous Damayanti dragged him back, but the madness born of the demon Kali once again possessed him and he took the path into darkness, reft of sense. And as he staggered away into the forest, the kokil birds who were awakening to the dawn heard the frantic king moaning in misery as he deserted the sleeping Damayanti.
Gradually the sun’s rays entered the bower where Damayanti slept in the arms of the old banyan tree. And as the gentle warmth spread through the forest floor, Damayanti awoke, refreshed from her slumber. And yet when she awoke and found that Nala had gone Damayanti was surprised. “Nala?” she said.
“He must have gone to collect fresh herbs and fruits,” she thought. “Nala?” But the forest was silent.
Nala and Damayanti
|
| Nola leaves Damayanti |
Abandoned in the forest, left to die.
“He must have gone to collect fresh herbs and fruits,” she thought. “Nala?” But the forest was silent.
“Nala?”
Something was wrong. She went around the great banyan tree calling out. “Nala!”
No reply.
Now she shouted through the forest, “My king! Nala!”
But the trees were silent.
“Alas, my love has gone,” she cried. Half mad she began to ask the trees of the forest, “Where is Nala? Where is the king of the Nishadhas? Did he desert me here in the forest? But how could he? Is this a cruel joke, played by a madman who has lost everything? Nala!”
And as she wandered now through the forest, completely lost, she forgot the path to Vidarbha that Nala had marked out for her. She saw something moving in the bushes. “Nala!” she cried.
“Is that you? Come out and stop this game, and let us go to Vidarbha to see my father.”
And so she ran from tree to tree, losing herself further in the dark forest until she came to a brook deep in the woods and could walk no further. She thought she could trace his footprints in the sand. But there were only the tracks of the bears that frequented the clear waters of the brook.
“Alas,” she cried. “Nala!” she wailed like a widow, lost in grief, her tears staining her unblemished cheeks. Finally, she sat on a dry trunk in the tall grass by the brook. Unconsoled and grieving, she wept.
And as she was wept a fierce and powerful a serpent slithered from beneath the trunk. Lost in grief, she didn’t notice how that serpent began to crawl round her leg, catching her in its coils, until it was too late.
“Nala!” she screamed as the snake bound her closely. “Help me!”
But Nala was far away by now. The spirit of Kali had drawn him to another part of the woods where he was wandering, lost.
At this time a hunter was moving through the forest searching for prey. He had long been tracking a stag who had taken water by the brook. Hearing Damayanti’s cries, he was startled and ran to where she sat, struggling with the huge and terrible viper who was poised to strike.
The hunter drew his bow and let fly a shaft, piercing the viper’s head. As Damayanti shook herself free, the hunter grabbed the snake and with his sharp axe he cut off the serpent’s jeweled head, slaying it in an instant.
And seeing blood gushing from the serpent’s severed head Damayanti swooned.
The hunter, taking pity on this lost forest maid, carried her to the brook and bathed her forehead with the cool water. When she revived, he gave her some of the food he carried with him and fresh fruit and water to drink. Faint with fright and hunger, she thanked him and smiled.
But this hunter was enchanted by the beauty of Damayanti. As her silk garment was wet with the water from the forest stream it clung closely to her slender body. And as she finished eating, the hunter held her in his arms, filled with desire.
“O forest maid with eyes of green,” he said. “O lovely child whose limbs are nimble as a gazelle, who are you? Why are you here in these dark woods?”
Near unconscious with fright, Damayanti’s eyes went wide. Who was this man? But, plying her with sweet words of flattery, he began to hold her closer. Seeing her half-clad in a silk garment that left little to his imagination, and noticing her full breasts and round hips, her delicate arms and flawless legs, he became inflamed with lust.
Looking into her moonlike face, her lotus-like eyes with their curved lashes, he mad with desire.
Coming to her consciousness, the chaste Damayanti was shocked. She shook the hunter off, pushing him away, outraged. “How dare you touch the queen of the Nishadhas!” She said. “Nala will kill you.”
The amorous huntsman laughed. “Who is this Nala? We are alone in this forest. Perhaps it is our karma to be together,” he said, touching his knife. He smiled and grasped her arm. “What is not given freely through love,” he said, “may be taken by force.” His knife in hand, his intentions were clear.
The hunter leered and drew her closer in his grasp. But Damayanti, chaste and faithful to her lord, cursed him saying, “If I have been a chaste wife to Nala, if I am pure and constant, then let this beast fall dead on the ground.” And so cursed by the fair Damayanti, the lecherous hunter was struck dead on the ground the instant she uttered her curse, just as a tree falls when struck by lightning.
And having slain the wicked hunter, the fair and lotus-eyed Queen, Damayanti began to roam through that fearful wilderness alone. All around her she heard the chirp of crickets as she entered deeply in the woods. She walked softly past the dens of lions, through the hideaways of tigers, stags, buffalos and bears. Different colored birds of varying species fluttered through the trees. The forest was not uninhabited for there lived many cannibals and carnivorous tribes of men. She made her way past the lairs of man-eaters and thieves, where wildmen and robbers dwelled.
Various trees populated the forest from bamboo to Ashvattha to Jambu and Mango and Jack-fruit, Tamarind and Banyans and palms and date-trees. There were Shal trees, bamboos, and the black ebony trees, Arjuna trees and Nim.
She walked through groves of Rose-apples and Mangos, Lodh trees and passed fields of sugar cane. There were flowers on her path: Lotuses and Kadambas and Jasmine. Huge and bushy-leaved shade trees gave her shelter and fruit trees such as Jujube and fig-trees gave her fruit.
Tangled Banyans barred her way as she walked passed brooks and streams and by and by she reached groves of palm trees where there were date palms, coconuts, harita-trees and many others.
Rivulets and streams ran cold through the forest and many different groves of trees were also there. And so Damayanti wandered from grove to grove, lost in the forest, searching for her husband Nala who had been possessed by the demon Kali.
She passed shady arbours and greeny glens, lakes, and lagoons, crystal pools and raging rivers, birds and beasts of every shape and kind; she saw serpents, forest elves, duendes, dwarves and yakshas. She wondered at many sights on her sojourn through the woods. But nowhere could she find her Nala. And so she mourned and wasted away in anguish, her every limb trembling with sorrow.
She had long since forgotten the way to Vidarbha and famished with hunger and distressed at her separation from Nala she began to lament.
“O king of the Nishadhas, O you of broad chest and mighty arms, where have you gone and why have you left me here in this forest? O my lord will I die alone in this forest, eaten by bears? Why have you abandoned me?”
And so Damayanti went north until after many days she came to a grove of trees where saintly sages had made their ashram in the woods.
Nala and the Snake Prince
What had become of Nala? After he had abandoned Damayanti, he wandered into the forest, losing his way. His madness only increased. He fell deeper under the influence of darkness and the wicked demon Kali. And as he went farther from the kingdom of Vishadha, his path took him past the dens of bears and other wild animals into an unknown wilderness.
He walked for days. He ate the edible herbs and flowers of the forest and drank from the pure streams. Even so, his misfortune burned his heart. And one night, exhausted, he found shelter under a tree, spread leaves on the ground and slept on the cold earth in the cool moonlight. He had not slept long when he was awakened by the sharp smell of burning wood. The air was warm. Opening his eyes, he looked around him and saw the flames licking the trees around him.
Fire raged through the trees. Small animals scurried along the ground, racing away from the flames. A huge burning branch fell to earth, setting the bushing aflame. All around him burned a great conflagration. Snakes ran along the ground, away from the blaze.
He was about to run when he heard a sound, a voice in the fire, crying: “O great King, Nala, O hero. help me.” Shaking off the influence of Kali who filled his soul with fear, Nala was moved to pity. “Fear not,” he said.
“Help!” cried the voice again.
 |
| Nagas |
Nala raced towards the sound and into the fire to save the poor creature trapped by the flames. He ran into a copse of trees that had begun to catch fire in the swirling heat. Burning branches fell from the blackened sky as cinders flew. Trapped beneath a fallen tree trunk he found a strange form. “Help!” he cried.
An explosion of flame and light revealed the form. It was a giant snake-man, a mighty serpent of the Naga race, whose coils where trapped by the fallen tree trunk. The flames leaped higher.
The serpents scaly coils gleamed green in the flash of the explosion. But from the hips to his head, the serpent’s upper body was that of a man. He was powerfully built and wore a golden crown.
 |
| Naga Snake Prince |
“Now this forest fire will burn me to ashes. Deliver me, O King.”
Nala struggled with the tree trunk, wrestling it away, just as another burning branch fell from above, crashing to the ground with a roar of flames.
He freed the Naga King. “We must escape these flames.” He said. “Can you walk?”
The serpent looked up at Nala. With folded hands, saying, “O Nala. I am Karkotaka of the Naga race. Because I had offended the great rishi Narada, I have been cursed by him to stay here, immobile, until the great king Nala passed this way. As I am cursed, I am unnable to move. You must carry me.”
“But how can I carry you? You are as long as a palm tree is tall.”
“While I was cursed to remain immobile, I can change my shape.
With this the mighty Naga made himself smaller, assuming the form of a tiny viper.
Nala picked him up and ran through the flames. He ran farther into the forest until he reached a stream. The fire had changed its path and raged out of sight in another part of the forest.
They were safe. They could still smell the smoke from the blaze, but the fire was far away now. Nala kneeled down at the water’s edge, cupped his hand and wet his brow with the sacred water of the stream. In that moment, he was about to put the viper down, when Karkotaka the Naga said, “Don’t put me down!”
“Just a moment.” Said the snake-man. “This is important. I want to reward you. Carry me along a little ways. I will show you something that is to your benefit.”
“How can you benefit me?” said Nala.
“Listen. I was once a great prince, like you. But I cheated the great Rishi Narada, the seer among the gods. Someday I will tell you the story. Anyway, when I cheated the good Rishi, he cursed me, saying, ‘You act like a snake, so live like one. Be a snake. Here you shall stay, immobile until Nala frees you on this very spot.”
“But I have freed you,” said Nala.
“Ahh, but the wind and the rain have moved me a bit. It’s just over there a few steps. Ten steps to the right. By that tree. Exactly there I shall be freed from the curse and I shall give you something you need.”
“What will you give me?” said Nala.
“I shall instruct you as to your welfare, and help deliver you from the curse that is burning your own heart.”
Intrigued, Nala paced off ten steps to the right.
“Here?” he said.
“Yes, said the snake. “This is it. The very spot.”
 |
| Nagas |
Nala held the tiny viper-man gently between two fingers and began to set him down. But with this, the viper bit him, infusing his venom deep within Nala’s veins. Nala was stunned.
And just as he was reeling from the snake-bite, he saw the tiny viper grow in size. From a hideous and monstrous snake, he transformed himself into a princely young man, well-dressed and decorated with golden ornaments.
Prince Karkotaka, for indeed he was a prince, smiled a charming smile. Nala sat on a rock, his head swimming with the venom of the snake-bite.
“My dear King Nala, I thank you,” said the snake who was now a charming prince. “You must forgive the indignity of the snake-bite. But the venom of the Naga has medicinal properties. You have been possessed. Your body has been invaded by the spirit of Kali.
“The venom will burn him. As long as the venom courses through your veins you can bring the influence of Kali under control. Gradually he will not be able to stand the medicine and he will leave you. In the meantime he whose power has deceived you shall be tortured by the venom of the Naga. As you have delivered me from the curse of Narada, so my medicine will deliver you from the curse of Kali.”
The snake-prince continued, “My dear Nala, you yourself shall feel no pain from the poison, but shall be immune from snake bite for the rest of your days. In addition you shall always be victorious in battle. From this day forward, none shall defeat you. You need never fear the fangs of any enemy, human or otherwise.”
“As to your appearance. You need a disguise. As long as you are recognizable as the King of Nishadha, you will be persecuted by your enemies. I have transformed your appearance. Do not be alarmed. For the moment your disguise is perfect.”
The snake-prince reached into the folds of his garments and produced a cloth. He offered it to Nala who was still reeling from the injection of snake venom.
“Take this cloth. Wear it when you are ready to return to your own form.”
Nala took the cloth. It glowed with celestial beauty. It was finer than silk. He folded it carefully until it was smaller than a matchbook and hit it on his person.
“You have freed me from a terrible curse. In return I shall tell you how to be freed from your own curse,” said the Naga prince.
Recovering his sanity, Nala turned and splashed water on his face. Famine and thirst had made him mad. Fire, Nagas, a prince? Perhaps he was dreaming. The cold water sobered him. Nala looked at himself in the clear waters of the stream. And in that natural mirror he saw himself a changed man.
He studied himself. His fine features had become rough. His perfect nose was hooked and long. He touched his face. He had a rough dark beard and large ears and a dull mouth. His fine and curly blond hair was now coal black and badly cut. He was an ugly, vulgar hunchbacked dwarf. And instead wearing the shredded rags from Damayanti’s sari, he was now clothed. He wore the rough cloth of a chariot driver, a keeper of horses.
He turned to the smiling prince. “What is the meaning of this?” he said, alarmed. “I helped you and you have bitten me. You said you would benefit me and you have made me a monster.”
“You misunderstand, Nala.” Said the Naga prince. O great king. I have helped you. My bite has transformed you. You are no longer beautiful, but ugly, it’s true. But your ugliness is the perfect disguise. No one shall recognize you.
“The poison of my bite will not affect you, but it will burn the one who has possessed you. You may not realize this, but you have been possessed by a powerful demon. His envy caused you to gamble at dice and lose your kingdom. But now he is paralyzed within you by my viper’s poison. As long as he lives within you this devil will be tortured by my snake venom. In this way I have saved you from one who torments you.”
“As I have said, my venom has special properties. After my bite you shall never fear any animal with fangs, nor any brahmana’s curse. No poison can harm you. You shall always triumph in battle.
“Listen carefully and profit by my instructions. Go now to Ayodhya, the ancient city once ruled by the great Rama, and present yourself to the prince there.
“His name is Rituparna. Tell him that you are a charioteer and give your name as Vahuka. Make friends with him. Teach him how to handle his horses. He will teach you as much about dice as you know about horses. When you learn everything about dice, you will win your prosperity again. You will meet again with your wife and children and regain your kingdom. Have no fear.”
Adjusting his belt the snake-prince smiled at Nala. He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder and said,
“Remember. When you want to regain your original form, wear the celestial cloth that I have given you.”
Nala was stunned. He wasn’t sure if he should thank this strange king or slay him on the spot. He stood to confront Karkotaka, but felt rooted to the spot, immobile. Was it the venom? He watched as Karkotaka disappeared into the woods.
 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Snake Prince, Thailand
Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Vidarbha, King Bhima was worried. His daughter’s children had arrived by chariot a fortnight since. The king was well-pleased to see them.
“Grandfather!” they said, running from the chariot and throwing their arms around him.
“Let me look at you, children,” he said, a warm smile masking his concern.
They had grown. Had it really been 12 years since the swayamvara and the wedding? Indrasen already had his father’s curly hair, piercing eyes and proud gait, and Indrasena while only a girl had her mother’s grace and quiet beauty.
The children blushed and laughed. As Varshneya the charioteer tied up the horses, Indrasen and Indrasena frolicked away to play in the gardens where once a swan messenger had brought news of a handsome prince to the virgin Damayanti.
Brim approached the chariot-driver as he watered the horses. “O Varshneya, best of horsemen, accept my blessings. Gold and silver will be yours for having brought my grand-children safely from the land of Vishadha. But what’s the news, my friend. Where is my daughter? Is she arriving here soon with King Nala to visit?” said Bhima.
Varshneya looked at his hands. “I have brought the children here on my lady Damayanti’s orders. She foresaw the tragedy and sent me here.”
“What tragedy, sir?” said the King.
“All is lost. The king’s brother used some mystic charm to cheat the king. I felt some evil influence enter the gaming hall. King Nala staked everything and lost.
They gamed at dice for days until Nala lost everything. He was banished into the forest, stripped of all his wealth and left to die of starvation, abandoned by the citizens by order of his cruel brother. The king is under some spell. He wanders lost in the dark forest. At last, our lady Damayanti followed him into the woods.”
King Bhima of Vidarbha heard the news of the exile with dismay. What on earth had happened his son-in-law, King Nala? What could have possessed him to lose his kingdom in a dice game? How could Nala’s brother Pushkar have been capable of such treachery?
Varshneya told of Pushkar’s treachery. How he had ordered his citizens to shun Nala. Anyone who helped him did so on pain of death. None could offer him food or shelter. Cruel and envious, Pushkar had prevailed upon the miserable Nala to wager his own wife in the game. But Nala had refused. Having lost the game, he went to the woods as an honorable man according to the terms of the wager. But Pushkar had surely cheated him at dice. Perhaps Nala had been poisoned or enchanted in some way.
In the course of the day, King Bhima situated his grandchildren in fine apartments within the palace. His royal servants did everything to take care of them and make them comfortable. Soon they would miss there mother. But where was Damayanti?
As night fell, King Bhima sent for the brahmanas who frequented his court. He personally washed their feet, offered them all respect, and fed them well. And when they were satisfied they asked, “my dear King, why have you sent for us?”
The king said, “Alas. No one knows the fate of Nala, my erstwhile son-in-law. He was exiled into the forest by his cruel brother who cheated him at dice. Having gambled everything away, he was scorned, driven from his kingdom, banished and left to die alone in the forest. My daughter, the fair Damayanti, Princess of Vidarbha, has followed him into exile. Woe is me. What shall I do? I need some good counsel in this matter.”
Now the foremost of those good souls stepped forward and said, “Let us go forth and search for your daughter and for Nala, King of Vishadha. If they are alive, we shall find them.
And King Bhima said, “So be it. Go forth throughout the land. Announce far and wide that King Bhima is desirous to see his daughter Damayanti. Whosoever brings news to me of my daughter shall be well-rewarded for his pains.
“Discover the whereabouts of King Nala. Who brings Nala or Damayanti home shall receive from me cows and land. Anyone who brings news of my children shall receive gold and silver. You pious and compassionate brahmanas can help me, for by your mercy I shall recover the jewel of my kingdom, my fair daughter, Damayanti.”
And so it was that the brahmanas left, early in the morning in search of King Bhima’s daughter. They went in all directions, from town to town, but no one had heard any news. Nala and his wife could not be found in any of the towns or provinces near the kingdom of Vidarbha. As time passed, King Bhima himself was disconsolate. Where was Damayanti?
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Vahuka: The Magic Dwarf
As the strange snake prince disappeared into the forest, Nala was confused. His body burned with the snakebite.
Bt as the poisonous venom coursed through his veins, his head became clear for the first time in days. He looked at himself again in the mirror of the stream and saw the ugly face of a twisted old dwarf with buck-teeth and bushy eyebrows. A coal-black beard completed his hideous appearance. Short and stout, he was dressed as a chariot driver. No, his own chariot-driver, Varshneya was better dressed. What had become of Varshneya, he wondered.
Suddenly, he remembered Damayanti. What had he done? What had possessed him to leave her in the forest? As the influence of Kali diminished, his conscience pricked him. But this was no time for lamentation. The snake venom moved through him, emboldening his steps. What had the Naga prince said? He must go to the city of Ayodhya, where once Lord Rāma had ruled so long ago. There he could bide his time until the moment came for him to regain his kingdom. There was still hope.
He stood up straight and dusted himself off. The acrid smell of burned wood still hung in the air. But now the sun was coming up over the mountains and he could see the path to Ayodhya through the mist.
“My name is Vahuka now,” Nala thought. Glancing again at his mirror image in the stream, he smiled. “Yes, the Naga was right. This is the perfect disguise. Who will recognize me? I will take the path to Ayodhya and seek out the king there. What was his name? Rituparna. I will go to Rituparna and train horses for a while.”
And so it was that Nala, in the form of the dwarf Vahuka, began walking down the forest path to Ayodhya, where after a few days he arrived. Making his way through the great gate of the city he reached the palace of the king whose name was Rituparna. “Vahuka is my name,” he sang, “and horses are my game.”
As luck would have it, Rituparna himself was just entering the palace courtyard, seated on his chariot. But the horses were upset. They pulled the chariot in all directions.
“Hold!” said his chariot-driver, as he pulled on the reins. The horses reared, baring their white teeth. They refused to obey. The chariot overturned.
Rituparna was cast to the ground. Grabbing the reins, the chariot-driver lashed a black stallion with his whip, trying to bring him under control. The horse reared again, attacking the driver. Rituparna was trapped under a broken axle of the overturned chariot. With hatred in his eyes the furious stallion made to trample the king. The chariot driver, whip in hand, ran from the maddened beast.
Just then the king saw an ugly dwarf, robust and muscular, stand before the raging horses. He put his stubby fingers in his mouth and whistled through his beard. The horses looked at him. They shook out their manes. He whispered a mantra in a foreign language. They stamped their hooves and switched their tails and then stood quietly, as if thoughtful. He approached the angry black stallion. Unable to reach any higher, he patted the horse on the shank. “ Stay.” He said. “It’s me. Stay now. That’s good.” The horse stood calmly, happy to receive the affectionate touch of Vahuka the dwarf.
Having calmed the horses, the powerful dwarf bent over the king and lifted the chariot wheel from where it was crushing his chest. He helped Rituparna to his feet. “Who are you?” said the king with a smile, dusting himself off.
“Vahuka is my name, and horses are my game.”
“I can see that,” said the king. “You’re just in time. I’m afraid my chariot driver is not very experienced.”
By this time the driver had returned, chastened by the accident. “Jivala! Get back here.” The king said. “Meet Vahuka. He’s our new horse-trainer. You can learn a lot from this man.” Turning to Vahuka, the king said, “You will help us won’t you?”
Vahuka the magic dwarf bowed low before the king. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "I am Vahuka. No one on earth is my equal at taming wild stallions, harnessing fiery steeds to a chariot or racing horses. I give wise counsel in affairs of state and am no stranger to the use of arms. I am expert in the culinary arts and sciences. By simple touch, I produce fire."
And indeed by snapping his fingers, sparks flew. They fell on the dry straw on the earth near the chariot. The straw produced an ember which fanned by a slight breeze burst into a tiny flame. "I can also call water from anywhere." And snapping his fingers again and touching the earth a trickle of water sprang from the ground and extinguished the fire. Jivala, who stood there, whip in hand, was astonished. "This dwarf is surely magic!" he said to the king. Vahuka continued, "I am well-known for my art in cooking. I was on my way to Vidarbha or perhaps Nishadha, for these kingdoms have a good reputation, but as I am fond of Lord Rāma, I couldn't possibly omit a visit to fair Ayodhya, Rāma's kingdom." And King Rituparna said, "O Magic Dwarf, Vahuka. You have shown your prowess with horses. I am sure you are every bit as expert in the kitchen as you are in the stables. Stay here with us in Ayodhya. Help me with my horses. I shall pay you gold and silver coins of the realm. I shall appoint you stable-master. Jivala here shall assist you in anything you need." Vahuka again bowed with a flourish. "As you wish, sire." he said.
नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Damayanti
And so Damayanti turned north towards the crystal river, flowing downward to the sea until she reached the holy mountain. The lofty peaks rose up to the heavens. That holy mountain was streaked with veins of precious metals like gold and silver. Through its crags ran clear rivulets filled with opals and other and sacred gemstones. And though those those hills the elephants moved, regal in their bearing.
And as she walked the songs of strange birds consoled her with exotic melodies. There were no palm trees here, but the evergreens of stately height rose over the forest floor. Orange butterflies flitted through blossoming hibiscus as she strode through orchards of trees laden with golden fruits.
Damayanti was lost. Sustained by the golden fruits, she continued on the path. But was this the path to Vidarbha? Or Ayodhya? Or was she only wandering aimlessly, deeper and deeper into the woods?
She felt she was walking in circles, lost and forgotten. Where was Nala? Where was her proud king? Besides herself with the madness of grief, she consulted the trees of the forest, saying, “O majestic lords of the forest, set me free from this misery. Show me the path to my king. Where is Nala?”
And as she passed the trees with golden fruit, she walked another three days further toward the region of the north and by and by she came to a grove of ashoka trees. Within those woods saintly sages had made their ashram.
There, great teachers like Brhigu and Atri and Vasistha had lived from time to time, performing their vows of penance and austerity. Among those sages were mystic yogis who lived on nothing more than air and water, clad in the bark of trees, seeking the right way of living and the path to immortality. Some wore deerskins and sat in the lotus position on mats of kusha straw, meditating on the divine nature. And near them cows were herded, munching grass. Monkeys played in the ashoka trees. Multi-colored parrots sang prayers in sanskrit rhyme. And there the saintly souls had their dwellings made of wood. Plumes of smoke rose from their hearth-fires, warming the cool air.
And while she had wandered long, Damayanti’s courage was revived. Her fair brow shined. A smile graced her cherry-red lips. Her long black tresses moved in the breeze. Her torn sari barely concealed her fine hips and lovely breasts as she strolled into the circle of the holy saints gathered there. And Damayanti wondered to see such holy company sheltered by the green foliage of the ashoka trees. Upon seeing that noble princess enter their grove, the wise men there said arose from their meditation and greeted her.
“Welcome, my child,” said one. “You are home now, my child,” said another.
So cheered by the company of those great souls, that pearl among women, Damayanti took refuge in the mountain ashram. She was offered a seat and some food from the holy offering, prasadam. “Please sit,” they said. “Tell us, how did you find us? How did you arrive here? Where did you come from and what is your purpose?”
“O holy ones, you are all truly blessed, to live here among saintly souls, pursuing the life of dedication to the divine. You are blessed with your sacred fires, your holy worship. O sinless ones, your selfless service is blessed even by the beasts and birds. I think that God in his infinite mercy blesses you in your duties as in your deeds.”
“It is all His grace,” they replied as one. “If we have any goodness here it is by the mercy of our guru, our guide. Our divine mentor has blessed us. But now you have come to bless us with your presence.”
“What goddess are you,” asked one. “Are you the goddess of this forest or of the river? You dazzle us with your beauty. You must be some divine being. Or are you the lady of the mountain, come to bless us in human form?”
“No goddess,” said she. “Neither a river nymph or apsara. I am merely a woman. I am Damayanti, wife of Nala the great hero and king of Nishadha. I am the daughter of King Bhima of Vidarbha, but I have lost my way in this forest. If I cannot find my king I shall surely die of grief.” And she told the sages there of her love for Nala and how the gods had been unkind and he had lost his kingdom by gambling. He is a great king, brave in battle, expert with horses, fierce in war, patient in peace. He is a good ruler to the poor, chastise of the wicked, friendly to brahmanas. Splendid as the king of the gods. Indeed he competed for my hand with Indra himself. Nala is a kind and devoted husband and father. Somehow we were separated. And I have wandered far and long to find him. But I have lost him here in this forest. And now I fear I will lose myself. Has anyone here seen my Nala? Has the monarch of the Nishadhas passed this way? If I don’t find him soon, perhaps I shall leave this mortal body and find the heavenly bliss that you all seek. How can I endure my existence alone, cursed and exiled?”
The sages said: “O blessed one. The time shall come. We see him. By mystic power we can see the future. We see that your future will bring happiness. We see Nala, the tiger of men. You are by his side. But you must first pass through a long time of hardship. You shall be together again. Soon you will behold your king. Mark our words.”
And so saying the saints with their holy fires disappeared from before her eyes. All at once the sacred fires were gone. The holy hermits had vanished. Their humble huts and meditation cells vanished. No smoke came from he sacred fires. They had left no ashes. Even the cows and happy monkeys swinging in the trees had gone, vanished.
The forest floor in the ashoka grove was deserted and dusty.
Damayanti was left standing alone again in the forest. Desolate, she asked the ashoka trees, “Where are all the saints? Where have the hermits gone? Why have they deserted me? Where is my king? Have you seen my husband?”
Mad with grief, she ran from tree to tree, saying, “Where have the holy devotees of Krishna gone? Why have they left me here? Where is the river stream that ran here watering the lotuses? Where are the colorful parrots who chant the holy Vedas in Sanskrit verse?”
She wandered about until she came upon an ashoka tree. Tears in her lotus eyes, she cried, “O noble tree, your name is ashoka, meaning free from lamentation. Free me from my lamentation and tell me where my husband is. He wore the torn half of my cloth. Answer me.”
But the green and leafy tree had no answer.
In this way Damayanti passed through the forest traveling ever deeper into regions dark and dangerous. She passed groves of trees and meandering streams. She passed placid mountains and saw wild deer and birds. She roved over hills and through caverns until she thought she had lost all hope. Arriving at last at a pleasant river, she bathed in its cool, clear waters.
And as she bathed, she saw a cloud of dust across the waters, downstream. It was a large caravan. As the caravan arrived, she could see horses and elephants, chariots and carts laden with goods. They had stopped on the opposite banks of the river and began to ford the waters.
She ran toward them, but the group was astonished to see a disheveled madwoman of the forest running at them and shouting. They stopped.
“Who are you?” They said. “Are you a forest spirit or a demon sent to curse us to hell. Please bless our caravan that we may pass this river with no harm.”
Nala and Damayanti
The Magic Dwarf:
A Race to the Finish 
In the kingdom of Ayodhya, Rituparna had made Vahuka the Magic Dwarf, who was really Nala in disguise, his horsemaster. Vahuka was to train Jivala the chariot-driver and see to it that the horses were fast.
Vahuka slept in the stables with the horses. Jivala came to him in the morning, Vahuka led him to the powerful black stallion named Blaze, who had rebelled and thrown the chariot of the king.
“Come here, Jivala,” He said. Blaze’s eyes grew wide as if in terror. “It’s all right boy.” Jivala was afraid of the horse, but followed the instruction. The dwarf was so short he couldn’t reach the horse's neck. He stood up on a wooden stool and held the reins. “Here, boy, don’t be afraid.” Jivala approached.
“Look here,” he said, holding the reins as he stood up on a stool.
Jivala followed, but didn’t understand. What was he supposed to see? He saw a dwarf holding the reins of that hideous beast who had almost killed his master the king.
“What is it, Vahuka?” he said.
“See where the reins chafe the horse’s neck? The straps are too tight.”
“A tight strap makes a good horse,” said Jivala.
“No. This horse is in pain. Remove these reins.”
“Then how shall we control the horse?” said Jivala, who had never heard such nonsense.
“We will control him with love,” said Vahuka. “Do it now.”
He patted the horses face, looking him in the eye, and got down from the stool. Picking up the wooden footstool, he walked across the stable to the next horse.
“Do it now,” he said.
Jivala shook his head. What could a dwarf now about horses? He wasn’t even tall enough to touch his mane.
“Fine. As you say.”
Jivala set about removing the reins. The horse huffed and shook his head. Jivala manhandled the straps. The horse whinnied. Suddenly the dwarf was at his side again, tugging his leg.
“Gently!”
Jivala shrugged. He did his best to undo the straps. He could see that they had chafed through the horse’s skin. As he eased the straps off, a trickle of blood ran down Blaze’s face. He undid the leather straps and stepped back.
“You see, Jivala, this horse is in pain,” said Vahuka. A horse will never respond as long as he is in pain. You must treat him with love, not the whip. No more whip.”
“With all respect, my dear dwarf, I’m not sure I understand your methods. How will the horse go fast if we don’t whip them?”
“They will ride fast as the wind, with only a whisper from you, if you show them love.”
“As you say. You are the horse-master.”
Vahuka handed his assistant a small green bottle with some kind of liquid.
“This is a potion made of herbs. Apply this to his injuries before the blood dries. Do the same for the other horses. I want you to rest all the horses for 3 days.”
Vahuka pointed to the dried and fetid straw piled in the center of the stable.
“Is that their feed?”
“Why yes, sir. The hay comes from town.”
“I want fresh alfalfa.”
“Fresh alfalfa is expensive sir, we’ve always used this hay.”
“This dried hay is not for these champions. They want fresh alfalfa.”
Pointing to the water trough, he said, “How often do you change this water?”
“Why, once a week, sir.”
“No. Change that water now. It’s stagnant. Tell the king you need a helper if must be, but these conditions are not fit for fine horses. If he wants fast horses, they must be happy horses.”
Jivala was beginning to see the logic. He looked down at the strange man with the coal black beard and the winkle in his eye.
“All right sir. I’ll get some helpers.”
A week passed. The stables were clean. The alfalfa was fresh. The mares and foals ate peacefully. The stallions drank pure water. The wild black stallion, Blaze, ran free in the fields of the king without harnesses, straps or reins. All the horses in the stable grew strong. They no longer feared and hated Jivala.
As Jivala worked with a helper to change the water, he felt a tug on his leggings. He turned and saw the coal black eyes of Vahuka looking up at him. “They’re ready. It’s time for a little demonstration,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s have a race.”
After consultation with the king, a day was set for the race. King Rituparna would select his two best horses. He would race against his famous chariot-driver, Jivala. If Jivala won, he would keep the horse. If the King won, he would give ten cows in charity to the local brahmanas.
The people of Ayodhya turned out to see the spectacle. The weather was fine. They chose a large meadow between the forest of Ayodhya and the fields where the cows grazed. At noon, the spectators sat under brightly colored umbrellas and drank refreshing drinks as the summer sun grew warmer.
First King Rituparna rode forth on a fine white mare, which he called Storm. He was dressed in fine silk cloths and his horse was decorated in Ayodhya’s greatest finery. The horses golden reins and tackle shined in the sun. Jivala was mounted on the fast grey stallion, Thunder. He was wearing the uniform of the king’s charioteers and his horse was decked with silver, the reins fastened tight.
King Rituparna smiled and waved at the crowds gathered there. The townspeople and men of the court cheered their champion. He brought his horse to the line.
Jivala held the reins closely on Thunder. He trotted to the line. A few ladies cheered him from a distance.
Just as the race was about to begin, the crowd broke into laughter. King Rituparna turned to see what the scandal was all about. He could see his hunchbacked horsemaster mounted on Blaze, trotting to the line.
It was a ridiculous sight. The hump-backed dwarf, with his hooked nose, coal black beard and strange garb was riding bare-back, his raven hair wild in the wind. He stood up on the horse’s back, waving at the crowd, and flipped in the air. The crowd went wild at the dwarf’s equestrian antics. As a clown, he was a great success. But in a race with royalty? Blaze didn’t even have a saddle. How could he hope to compete with the king?
He reached the line. King Rituparna looked at the pitiful dwarf mounted on the wildest horse in the stable. “Where’s your saddle?” He said. “I never heard of a race without a saddle.”
“Long ago, in the land of the mlecchas, I learned to ride without a saddle. In the sands of the deserts where the camels roam, the nomads ride bare-back. As your horse-master I should be considered as a candidate for this race.”
The King smiled, “What shall be the stakes?”
“Friendly stakes,” said Vahuka. “I’m tired of the soup you serve around here. I have a mind to show my skill at cooking. If I win, you make me head of your kitchen.”
The horses stamped their feet. Jivala held the reins even tighter. The king laughed. “A horse-master chef? I hope your soup doesn’t smell of the stables.”
The minister of war held a silk handkerchief high in the air. When it fell to the ground the race would begin.
“Very well, Vahuka,” he said. “Take care with that horse. He has a deadly character.
The war minister raised the handkerchief still higher. They readied the horses for a charge. Blaze, Thunder, and Storm tensed the large muscles in their necks. Their eyes bulged.
The silk handkerchief was in the air. The reins tightened. King Rituparna’s horse Storm shot off down the field, his hooves shaking the earth. Dust flew. Jivala was next on Thunder. Blaze trotted down the field. Vahuka smiled peacefully, standing on the horses back and waving to the crowd. The stallion stopped and reached down to taste a flower, unconcerned as the two royal horses sped down the racecourse.
Rituparna had put quite a distance between his own Storm and Jivala’s Thunder.
As they turned the first corner, Vahuka sat down and stroked the horse’s mane, fondly. “Run like the wind," he whispered in the horse’s ear.”
Suddenly Blaze bolted into action. His head went horizontal, his teeth were gritted, his eyes showed white. He seemed to fly above the earth. He charged, his hooves thundering over the turf, as he carried the dwarf Vahuka just as the wind carries a leaf.
Jivala felt a rush of air as Blaze raced past, nostrils flared. The dwarf smiled at him as he pulled even tighter on the reins. He wanted to reach for the whip, but the whip had been banned.
But Vahuka needed no whip. He whispered again to Blaze as they rocketed past Jivala on Thunder.
King Rituparna was still far ahead, nearing the finish line. Some of the crowd cheered the king, but others began cheering the dwarf who was closing. Jivala was far behind as Blaze kicked up the dust.
As they came into the final turn, Rituparna smiled. It would be an easy victory. The brahmanas would be happy with their new cows. He could hear the crowd cheering him on.
As they came into the stretch, Vahuka on Blaze was inching up on Storm. Both horses were straining to run as fast as they could, but Blaze was running without the weight of a saddle, without the chafing of the bridle, and his rider ran without the restraints of a king’s rich garments. Leaning forward, the dwarf whispered again. Blaze ran even faster.
Rituparna was shocked. “Who is this dwarf?” He thought, “Is he a Gandharva in disguise?” just as Vahuka raced past. He pushed Storm to respond, but the horse could run no faster.
In a trifle, the race was over. Vahuka rode Blaze fast as the wind to the finish line. King Rituparana arrived a full second later. They waited a bit for Jivala, whose horse Thunder was exhausted. The crowd cheered the victor. “Hurray for Vahula! Hurray for the Dwarf! Vahula ki Jai!” they shouted.
After the race, King Rituparna congratulated Vahuka and appointed him master of the kitchens. The following day, Vahuka prepared a great feast for all. Brahmanas were invited to the feast which was served at an auspicious hour. After an aroti ceremony offering everything to the Deity of Vishnu, all were served. They sat in the courtyard in the shade of a huge tamarind tree. There were rich subjis, simple rice dishes with saffron soaked in ghee or clarified butter. There were refreshing drinks and payasam, sweet rice. A large variety of fresh fruits, vegetables, and different kinds of savories, samosas, and pakoras were served, followed by a number of desserts. Everyone agreed that Vahuka was quite a cook.
Two of the brahmanas there had traveled from the court of King Bhima in Vidarbha. As they were eating, one of them said, “I have traveled far and wide in the kingdom of Ayodhya and have never seen anyone with such skill at horses.”
His friend said, “There is only one man capable of such a feat. But alas, he was exiled to the forest by the cruel King Pushkar after losing everything in a dice game.”
The first brahmana laughed: “You must mean King Nala. Nala was tall with curly golden hair. This Vahuka is a clown. He may be good with horses but he has nothing in common with King Nala.”
His friend smiled as he licked a bit of buttery rice from his finger, “He has another thing in common with Nala. This saffron rice. I have only tasted rice like this once before; in the kingdom of Vishadha at the feast of Damayanti.”
“You're right my friend. It may be that Nala has come upon hard times and disguised himself. We must return to Vidarbha and inform the King of these strange events.”
And after finishing their meal the two brahmanas excused themselves and set off on the road to Vidarbha and King Bhima.
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Damayanti
The Stampede of the Wild Elephants
When she saw the caravan fording the river, downstream, Damayanti rubbed her eyes. Was this a dream? Would they disappear like the holy hermits in the enchanted forest?
They began to wade across. There were men dressed in the style of merchants, horses, asses laden with goods and bullock carts whose heavy wheels wore grooves in the mud. The men helped guide the carts across the river.
The water was only knee-deep at the ford. The reeds grew tall, and geese played on the waveless water. A few women carrying baskets began across, as the men with the carts reached the cane bushes on the near side.
 
Damayanti realized then that this was not a dream. For the first time in days she was close to civilization. These people would help her recover her Nala. She ran to them, waving her arms in desperation.
The men and women of the caravan saw a madwoman running toward them waving her arms. They shrank from the slender-waisted Damayanti. Half-clad in a torn sari she seemed like a maniac, thin and pallid. Her locks were all matted and covered with dust. Some ran in terror from this river spirit. Others approached her in pity and asked, “Who are you? Are you a spirit of this wood? Are you a yaksha or a rakshasa who protects these waters? If you are some divine god, bless us poor merchants who are on our way to market in the city of Chedi which lies through through these woods some leagues away.”
And Damayanti said, “I am only a poor girl who has lost her way. I am the daughter of Bhima, king of Vidarbha. I am looking for my great husband, the king Nala, ruler of the Nishadhas, who has lost his kingdom and been exiled to the forest. Please tell me if you have seen him pass by here.”
Now, the leader of that caravan was a merchant man named Suchi. He said, “O queen, daughter of Vidarbha, we have seen no such man or king pass this way. We have marched for many a day through this forest and have seen neither man nor woman. Elephants and leopards haunt these perilous woods. We have seen buffaloes, tigers, and bears. But no men.”
 
“Good sir, tell me where you and your company are bound,” she said.
“We are heading for the city of Lord Suvaha, the honest and truth-telling king of the Chedis. Join us, for we shall take you back to civilization through this dark and terrible forest. This is no place for a young and beautiful girl such as you.”
They made camp for the night on the banks of that placid stream. Damayanti bathed, and was given fresh cloth by some of the women of the merchants. And after eating a hot meal in the company of the ladies there, she rested. On the following day, Damayanti joined the caravan’s march as they went through the forest on the way to Chedi.
After a three day march, they left the dark and awful forest and arrived at the shores of a great lake, covered with lotuses. All around the lake were unusual flowers, bamboo and sugar cane.
    
The water of the lake was crystal pure and refreshing. There was plenty of grass for the horses and oxen, and plenty of sweet sugar cane. It was a natural oasis of fruits and flowers, coconuts and bananas, lotuses and kadamba flowers. Melodious birds filled the air with song.
  
Their leader, Suchi, signalled to make camp there. And they found delightful shelter in that pleasant grove.
But that land was the favorite of the elephants. And as they slept, a group of wild elephants came from out the forest and began to run to the lotus-filled lake to drink and bathe themselves and to feast on the sugar cane.
Those mighty beasts ran right through the pleasant groves where the caravan lay sleeping. And as the merchants arose and tried to defend themselves, waving their arms and screaming, there the elephants panicked.
The elephant herd charged and stampeded, crushing horses and camels; and in their wild rampage they killed some of the merchants with their tusks and others by trampling.
Some of the merchants ran in terror only to be trampled. Others climbed trees to escape the charging elephants who did great destruction to the caravan and to their camp.
Some uttered cries of terror as they were crushed beneath the powerful legs of the mad elephants.
In the chaos, some men drew swords and spears. They threw their spears at the elephants, killing other men.
And so it was that the caravan that had rescured Damayanti suffered great loss on account of the elephants. The campfires were overturned. The flames became a raging fire burning through the sugar cane. And the conflagration reached even the men who had hidden in the trees. And there arose a tremendous uproar like to the destruction of the three worlds at the end of time.
In the morning the elephants had gone. And some of the more unscrupulous followers of the caravan had gathered the jewels and gold of the others and made off with their wealth, fleeing the camp. Others merely fled the frantic carnage, returning to the river from whence they came.
And as the sun came up, those who were left behind wondered much at these occurrences saying, “Such misfortune has never befallen us before. Perhaps we have offended some spirit of the forest.”
Envious tongues blamed Damayanti, saying, “Yes. We were fine before that madwoman arrived. She must be a Rakshasa, or some other supernatural being or a demon sent from hell to torture us.”
When she awoke, she could hear the others talking. Damayanti took shelter behind a tree and listened as the others conspired against her.
“This demon-girl is bad luck. We should kill her,” said one.
“She must be a Rakshasa who bewildered our leaders with her beauty. But she must be stopped before her magic kills us all..”
One of the elders who had survived said, “She should be stoned to death. Or left to be trampled by the elephants.”
Another said, “She must be drowned in her own lake. Or beaten to death with our very fists, the she-devil.”
An old woman said, “Who is this woman? She brought evil upon us. Did you see her maniac eyes, her barely-human form? She is a witch whose black magic has cursed us all to death. Who else but a demon would cause us harm. Let us set upon her with stones and bamboo sticks. We must put her to death or perish ourselves.”
In terror and shame Damayanti fled to the shade of the forest. There she found a path that wound around the other side of the lake where there were no flowers but only brambles and thorns. Her bare feet bled to step on the rocky path.
“Why am I so cursed? Could the gods be so angry with me? What was my sin? I scarcely met this host of men when they were slaughtered by mad elephants. But my accursed life was spared, that I might spend more time in sorrow. No one dies before his time, they say. And what befalls us, good our bad is our own destiny. And yet, even as a child I never did anything so sinful as to cause such a terrible reaction. I must have offended the gods at my swayamvara. I rejected them for Nala. Perhaps had I chosen a god for my husband, I wouldn’t find myself lost in this terrible forest. But how could I have chosen otherwise. Nala was my destiny.”
And so, lamenting her fate, Damayanti walked on towards the sunset. And as she came over a small rise in the footpath, she could see, shining in the distance the stone towers of the city of Suvahu the truth-seeking king of the Chedis. At last.
नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्
देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्
महाभरत
Mahābharata
As retold by
Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi
Nala and Damayanti
The Magic Dwarf:
"Where has she gone?"
Brihadaswa said, “Late at night, Jivala was passing by the stables. He could see the light of a candle flickering through a window. He approached and heard the plaintiff sound of a lute, accompanied by a low, gruff voice. The dwarf was singing.
Curious, Jivala came closer to the window. He could see the dwarf playing a curious musical instrument. As he listened, he could hear Vahuka sing a sad and original ballad about a king who loses his empire. “What a strange song,” thought the king. He walked to the door of the stables and entered quietly, but As he approached, the dwarf stopped singing and put down his lute.
“Vahuka,” said the Jivala. “Don’t stop. I just came to sweep up the stables. I must confess, you have surprised us all. I never thought you would outrace the king of Ayodhya. And all the royal guests at court are satisfied. The brahmanas there have never tasted such rich food. Your feast was quite a success. And they’re all talking about the horse race. I must say, you’ve made quite a reputation here in Ayodhya, my dear little dwarf. And now it turns out you play the lute. I’m sorry to interrupt, you sir. Please continue your song.”
And Vahuka the dwarf looked at his friend Jivala. He picked up his lute again. He said, “Very well, my lord. I’m not much of a singer. But my song tells an old story. Perhaps you’ve heard it before. And he sang Jivala a strange ballad of a far off kingdom where a great and noble king ruled. He was married to a fair princess, who had chosen him from among the gods.
He ruled peacefully for twelve years, but one day, the king broke ekadashi. and fell under the influence of a demon, Kali. Possessed by the demon he played at dice and lost his kingdom. Exiled to the forest, he abandoned his wife, was bitten by a snake-prince, and became an ugly dwarf, bound to train horses.
When he finished Jivala was astonished. “What could it mean?” he though. “Was Vahuka telling his life in song? Was he accursed or possessed by some strange demon?”
“That’s a strange song,” he said. “And so sad. Is this your composition?”
Vahuka smiled. “Like most sad ballads, this one tells an unbelievable story, and yet it reminds me of someone and the melody is not without merit.”
“But you have traveled far and wide,” said Jivala, suspecting that Vahuka wasn’t telling the whole story. “Have you ever known anyone like this king who wagered his empire at dice?”
“Such things only happen in ballads, my friend” said the mysterious dwarf. He smiled widely, showing his broken teeth between his coal black beard as he slipped the ivory plectrum between the strings and put up his lute. “I’m glad the people enjoyed the feast. What does his lordship like for breakfast?”
“It’s such a sad ballad. There must be some truth in it,” said Jivala who stood in the stable doorway, leaning on his broom.
“Well, according to the poets, the sweetest songs sing of the saddest things.”
“Yes, but the song seems personal to you. What about the dwarf?”
“Oh, the old ballads are filled with dwarfs and dragons, Nagas, yakshas and rakshasas. You mustn’t take these things seriously. Surely they have been made up by poets to scare children into going to bed early. There are many such songs.”
“Do you know any others?” said Jivala.
“Oh, all right. If you like,” said the dwarf. He picked up his lute and took the plectrum from the strings. And once again he began to play and sing:
क्व नु सा क्षुत्पिपासार्ता श्रान्ता शेते तपस्विनी ।
स्मरन्ती तस्य मन्दस्य कं वा साद्योपतिष्ठति ॥
kva nu sā kṣutpipāsārtā śrāntā śete tapasvinī |
smarantī tasya mandasya kaṃ vā sādyopatiṣṭhati ||
“Where is she, worn and weary? Where is she, hungry and thirsty and torn by penance. Where does she rest?
Does she remember the fool who left her? And who is she serving now? O where has she gone?”
And Jivala said, “Who might be the lady’s husband?”
“The song tells of a man who lost his sense. The lady is faultless. But this fool leaves her, possessed by ghosts. And so he wanders, racked by sorrow.
"The wretch made false promises. He cannot rest by day or night. And so at night, he remembers her, singing this song, ‘O where has she gone?’ You want to hear the rest?”
“Play on,” said Jivala.
And taking up his theme again, Vahuka sang,
“Having wandered the whole round world, the wretch can’t sleep at night.
His soul possessed by Kali, his mind consumed with fright.
He broods and sings this verse of grief, it gives him some relief.
‘O where O where has my lady gone; he left her like a thief
Abandoned in the forest dark, the forest lone and dread.
O where O where has my lady gone? Alive? Or is she dead?
Dead to the love that we once had, lost to beasts of prey?
O where has she gone, where does she roam?
Her lord has gone away.’”
From Mahābhārata 3.64.9–19
Nala and Damayanti:
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