The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
direction." When the virtuous one had thus reflected, she stood facing
the sun, with mind fixed on Nala alone, and spoke thus--"O guardians
of the world, if even in sleep I have never fixed my heart on any
but Nala, on account of that loyal conduct of mine shew me your real
forms. And to a maiden any other men than her lover previously chosen
are strangers, and she is to them the wife of another, so how comes
this delusion upon you?" When the five, with Indra at their head,
heard that, they assumed their own forms, and the sixth, the true
Nala, preserved his true form. The princess in her delight cast upon
the king her eye, beautiful as a blown blue lotus, and the garland
of election. And a rain of flowers fell from heaven. Then king Bhíma
performed the marriage ceremony of her and Nala. And the kings and
the gods, Indra and the others, returned by the way that they came,
after due honour had been done to them by the king of Vidarbha.
But Indra and his companions saw on the way Kali and Dvápara, [787]
and knowing that they had come for Damayantí, they said to them,
"It is of no use your going to Vidarbha; we come thence; and the
Svayamvara has taken place; Damayantí has chosen king Nala. When
the wicked Kali and Dvápara heard that, they exclaimed in wrath,
"Since she has chosen that mortal in preference to gods like thyself,
we will certainly separate that couple." After making this vow they
turned round and departed thence. And Nala remained seven days in
the house of his father-in-law, and then departed, a successful man,
for Nishada, with his wife Damayantí. There their love was greater
than that of Siva and Párvatí. Párvatí truly is half of Siva, but
Damayantí was Nala's self. And in due time Damayantí brought forth to
Nala a son named Indrasena, and after that a daughter named Indrasená.
And in the meanwhile Kali, who was resolved on effecting what he had
promised, was seeking an occasion against Nala, who lived according
to the Sástras. Then, one day, Nala lost his senses from drunkenness,
and went to sleep without saying the evening prayer and without washing
his feet. After Kali had obtained this opportunity, for which he had
been watching day and night, he entered into the body of Nala. When
Kali had entered his body, king Nala abandoned righteous practices and
acted as he pleased. The king played dice, he loved female slaves,
he spoke untruths, he slept in the day, he kept awake at night, he
became angry without cause, he took wealth unjustly, he despised the
good, and he honoured the bad.
Moreover Dvápara entered into his brother Pushkara, having obtained
an opportunity, and made him depart from the true path. And one day
Nala saw, in the house of his younger brother Pushkara, a fine white
bull, named Dánta. And Pushkara would not give the bull to his elder
brother, though he wanted it and asked for it, because his respect
for him had been taken away by Dvápara. And he said to him, "If you
desire this bull, then win it from me at once at play." When Nala heard
that challenge, in his infatuation he accepted it, and then those two
brothers began to play against each other. Pushkara staked the bull,
Nala staked elephants and other things, and Pushkara continually won,
Nala as continually lost. In two or three days Nala had lost his
army and his treasure, but he still refused to desist from gambling,
though entreated to desist, for he was distracted by Kali. Damayantí,
thinking that the kingdom was lost, put her children in a splendid
chariot, and sent them to the house of her father. In the mean-while
Nala lost his whole kingdom; then the hypocritical Pushkara said,
"Since you have lost everything else, now stake Damayantí on the game
against that bull of mine."
This windy speech of Pushkara's, like a strong blast, made Nala blaze
like fire; but he did not say anything unbecoming, nor did he stake
his wife. Then Pushkara said to him, "If you will not stake your wife,
then leave this country of mine with her." When Nala heard this,
he left that country with Damayantí, and the king's officers saw him
as far as the frontier. Alas! when Kali reduced Nala to such a state,
say, what will be the lot of other mortals, who are like worms compared
with him? Curse on this gambling, the livelihood of Kali and Dvápara,
without law, without natural affection, such a cause of misfortunes
even to royal sages.
So Nala, having been deprived of his sovereignty by his brother,
started to go to another land with Damayantí, and as he was journeying
along, he reached the centre of a forest, exhausted with hunger. There,
as he was resting with his wife, whose soft feet were pierced with
darbha grass, on the bank of a river, he saw two swans arrive. And
he threw his upper garment over them, to capture them for food,
and those two swans flew away with it. And Nala heard a voice from
heaven,--"These are those two dice in the form of swans, they have
descended and flown off with your garment also." Then the king sat
down despondent, with only one garment on, and providently shewed to
Damayantí the way to her father's house; saying, "This is the way to
Vidarbha, my beloved, to your father's house, this is the way to the
country of the Angas, and this is the way to Kosala." When Damayantí
heard this, she was terrified, thinking to herself--"Why does my
husband tell me the way, as if he meant to abandon me?" Then the couple
fed on roots and fruits, and when night came on, lay down both of them,
wearied, in the wood, on a bed of kusa grass. And Damayantí, worn out
with the journey, gradually dropt off to sleep, but Nala, desiring to
depart, kept awake, deluded by Kali. So he rose up with one garment,
deserting that Damayantí, and departed thence, after cutting off half
her upper garment and putting it on. But Damayantí woke up at the end
of the night, and when she did not see in the forest her husband, who
had deserted her and gone, she thought for some time, and then lamented
as follows: "Alas, my husband, great of heart, merciful even to your
enemy! You that used to love me so well, what has made you cruel to
me? And how will you be able to go alone on foot through the forests,
and who will attend on you to remove your weariness? How will the
dust defile on the journey your feet, that used to be stained with the
pollen of the flowers in the garlands worn on the heads of kings! How
will your body, that could not endure to be anointed with the powder
of yellow sandal-wood, endure the heat of the sun in the middle of
the day? What do I care for my young son? What for my daughter? What
for myself? May the gods, if I am chaste, procure good fortune for
you alone!" Thus Damayantí lamented, in her loneliness, and then
set out by the path, which her husband had shewn her beforehand. And
with difficulty she crossed the woods, forests, rivers, and rocks,
and never did she depart from her devotion to her husband in, any
point. And the might of her chastity preserved her on the way, [788]
so that the hunter, who, after delivering her from the serpent, fell
in love with her for a moment, was reduced to ashes. Then she joined
a caravan of merchants, which she met on the way, and with them she
reached the city of a king named Subáhu. There the daughter of the
king saw her from her palace, and pleased with her beauty, had her
brought and gave her as a present to her mother. Then she remained
in attendance on the queen, respected by her, and when questioned,
she answered only--"My husband has abandoned me."
And in the meanwhile her father Bhíma, having heard the tidings of
Nala's misfortune, sent trustworthy men in every direction, to make
search for the royal couple. And one of them, his minister named
Suvena, as he was wandering about disguised as a Bráhman, reached that
palace of Subáhu. There he saw Damayantí, who always examined guests,
and she saw with sorrow her father's minister. And having recognized
one another, they wept together so violently, that Subáhu's queen
heard it. And the queen had them summoned, and asked them the truth
of the matter, and then she found out that the lady was Damayantí,
the daughter of her sister. Then she informed her husband, and after
shewing her honour, she sent her to the house of her father with Suvena
and an army. There Damayantí remained, reunited with her two children,
enquiring under her father's guidance for news of her husband. And her
father sent out spies to look for her husband, who was distinguished by
preternatural skill in cooking and driving. And king Bhíma commanded
the spies to say; "Moon, where have you hid yourself so cruelly,
deserting your young bride asleep in the forest, dear as a cluster
of white lotuses, having taken a piece of her robe?" [789] This he
told them to utter wherever they suspected the presence of Nala.
And in the meanwhile king Nala travelled a long way at night in
that forest, clothed with the half-garment, and at last he saw a
jungle-fire. And he heard some one exclaim--"Great-hearted one,
take me away from the neighbourhood of this fire, in order that I,
being helpless, may not be burned up by it." [790] When Nala heard
this, he looked round, and beheld a snake coiled up near the fire,
having his head encircled with the rays of the jewels of his crest,
[791] as if seized on the head by the jungle-fire, with terrible
flaming weapons in its hand. He went up to it, and in compassion put
it on his shoulder, and carried it a long distance, and when he wished
to put it down, the snake said to him--"Carry me ten steps further,
counting them as you go." Then Nala advanced, counting the steps, one,
two, three, four, five, six, seven--listen, snake--eight, nine, ten,
and when he said ten (dasa), [792] the snake took him at his word, and
bit him in the front of the forehead, as he lay on his shoulder. That
made the king small in the arms, deformed and black. Then the king
took down the snake from his shoulder, and said to him--"Who art
thou, and what kind of a return for my kindness is this which thou
hast made?" When the snake heard this speech of Nala's, he answered
him,--"King, know that I am a king of the snakes named Kárkotaka,
and I gave you the bite for your good; that you will come to learn;
when great ones wish to live concealed, a deformed appearance of body
furthers their plans. Receive also from me this pair of garments,
named the 'fire-bleached,' [793] you need only put them on and you
will recover your true form." When Kárkotaka had said this, and had
departed after giving those garments, Nala left that wood, and in
course of time reached the city of Kosala.
And going by the name of Hrasvabáhu, he took service as a cook in the
family of king Rituparna, the sovereign of Kosala. And he acquired
renown by making dishes of exquisite flavour, and by his skill in
chariot-driving. And while Nala was living there, under the name of
Hrasvabáhu, it happened that once upon a time one of the spies of the
king of Vidarbha came there. And the spy heard men there saying,--"In
this place there is a new cook, of the name of Hrasvabáhu, equal to
Nala in his own special art and also in the art of driving." The spy
suspected that the cook was Nala himself, and hearing that he was
in the judgment-hall of the king, he went there and repeated the
following Áryá verse, taught him by his master, "Moon, where have
you hid yourself so cruelly, deserting your young bride asleep in the
forest, dear as a cluster of white lotuses, having taken a piece of
her robe?" The people present in the judgment-hall, when they heard
that, thought that his words were those of a madman, but Nala, who
stood there disguised as a cook, answered him, "What cruelty was
there in the moon's becoming invisible to the lotus-cluster, when