had already heard of the accomplishments of Nala, and was now ready to return Nala's love. Damayanti's story made by one Bahuka, the charioteer of king Rtuparna. Damayanti .. , printed in Telugu characters. This South Indian. Story of Nala & Damayanti: Part 1 - Stories from Mahabharata in Simple English - Stories from Mahabharata, Articles and Translation by KM Ganguly. Nalopákhyanam. Story of Nala, an episode of the Mahábhárata. The Sanskrit text , with a copious vocabulary and an improved version of Dean.
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tioplacsubhesu.mlpe: application/pdf tioplacsubhesu.ml: Marathi tioplacsubhesu.ml: Nala Damayanti Swayamwarakhyan tioplacsubhesu.ml: Book tioplacsubhesu.ml: The. The golden swan brought about the union of Nala and Damayanti. For them fortune turned in a game of chance that Nala played with his. tioplacsubhesu.ml - download Nala Damayanti (Amar Chitra Katha) book online at best prices in india on tioplacsubhesu.ml Read Nala Damayanti (Amar Chitra Katha) book reviews.
Elaine, Australia I have downloadd from you before. Excellent service. Fast shipping. Great communication. Pauline, Australia Have greatly enjoyed the items on your site; very good selection! Thank you! Kulwant, USA I received my order yesterday. Thank you very much for the fast service and quality item. Then Damayanti, ashamed again to see the ministers, went to her own room and there sent for her charioteer Varshanaya.
When he had come she said, "O Varshanaya, the king has always treated you with kindness and honour. Now do you in return shew kindness to me. Harness a chariot and a team of swift horses, and take my son Indrasena and my daughter Indrasena to the palace of my father Bhima, King of Vidarbha. For King Nala has lost his reason, and his gaming will surely bring ruin on himself and all his house. But day after day Nala lost stake after stake to his brother Pushkara.
At last Nala, who had lost all the wealth of his treasury, staked first his army and then his kingdom and lost them both. Then Pushkara said with a sneer, "My lord king, you have but one possession left to dice with. Stake Queen Damayanti and perhaps you may yet win back what you have lost to me.
Rising from his seat he took off his rich robes and flung them at Pushkara's feet. Then with only a single piece of cloth to cover him he walked out of the city. Damayanti saw what he did from the palace window.
She too cast aside her royal robes and, clad only in a single piece of cloth, she walked out of the palace gates and followed the king. Pushkara, fearing that the subjects would take Nala's part and restore him to his lost throne, proclaimed that he would put to death anyone, no matter what his rank, who showed any pity to the fallen king. So he and Damayanti lay outside the city eating only such herbs and roots as Nala could gather.
One day, as he gathered them, he saw at his feet a flock of birds. In size they seemed wild geese but their wings were of pure gold. The king tore the cloth off his loins, hoping to catch them. But directly the cloth fell on their backs they rose into the sky, taking it with them. And as they flew, one of them said mockingly, "My lord the King, we are the dice which robbed you of your wealth and your kingdom. And we could not be happy until we had taken from you the single cloth which you still possessed.
Now that you are stripped we are at rest. The dice in the guise of birds have spoiled me of my loin cloth, my sole possession. Do you, therefore, go back to Vidarbha and live with King Bhima and leave me to suffer alone. For, in times of trouble, there is no such remedy as a wife's love. So come with me to Vidarbha.
And my father will pay you such honour that you will soon cease to grieve over the loss of your kingdom. Your father King Bhima would, I know, receive me with all honour. And in old days I loved to go to his kingdom and lodge in his palaces. But now that I am a beggar the sight of his court and its splendour would only remind me of my own lost glory. And thus talking together they reached a wayside inn.
There hungry and thirsty they flung themselves down on the ground. And the queen, worn out with fatigue and sorrow, fell into a deep slumber. But King Nala's mind was so troubled that sleep would not come to him. For a time he tossed about restlessly. Then the wicked god Kali, who possessed him, tempted him to rise and go out, leaving his wife alone in the wayside inn.
If I leave her she will make her way to Vidarbha where King Bhima will lavish on her all she needs. Leaving the queen still sleeping he left the inn and went out into the night. But possessed though he was by Kali, his love for Damayanti hardly allowed him to leave her.
He turned again and again and went back to the inn to gaze upon her beloved features. But at last Kali triumphed and Nala's love for Damayanti grew less and less.
He looked at her for the last time and then like a man bereft of his mind he ran away as fast as he could, until he found himself in the heart of a great forest. Next morning Damayanti awoke refreshed by her sleep. She looked round for Nala but her eyes sought him in vain. Then she saw that her single garment had been cut in half, so she guessed that the king must have cut it and gone out into the forest leaving her alone. For a time she was overwhelmed with grief. For she asked herself how the king, whose mind was darkened, would live without her.
At last she mastered her sorrow, and guessing rightly that the king had fled to the distant forest sadly made her way there in the hope of finding him. Blind to all else, she thought only of her husband the king and, paying no attention to the thorns that cut her garment and tore her flesh, she forced her way through the bushes that grew in her path and the creepers that hung from the trees.
At last unawares she came to a spot where a mighty serpent had its lair. It saw her coming and, as she passed near, its great head seized her arm and in an instant its huge coils had wound themselves round her body.
But even then at the point of death her thoughts were for her husband and she cried aloud for help, not that she might live herself, but that she might be freed and thus be able to seek him out and serve him as his faithful wife.
Happily a hunter who lived in the forest heard her cries and coming near saw the unhappy queen in the coils of the snake. He drew his knife and with a single blow cut the monster's head from off its body.
Then he freed the fainting queen and leading her to a spring close by bathed her wound and gave her water to drink. And when her strength returned he bade her tell her story. She did so, but as he listened, he fell in love with her and sought to drag her captive to his hut. Then the proud blood of Aryan kings boiled in the queen's veins and from heaven she called down on the hunter a fearful curse.
Damayanti, blinded by the flame, turned her eyes away. When she looked again she saw a heap of ashes where the man had stood. Leaving the spot, and more than ever oppressed by grief, the queen went deeper still into the forest. When evening fell, she saw approaching her a tiger looking for its prey.
Perhaps he may tell me; and even if he tears me to pieces, death is better than life without my beloved. If you have seen him tell me how I can find him.
But if not, tear me to pieces, for I am sick of life. Then, wondering at her, he turned aside and left her to seek his prey elsewhere. Damayanti sadly renewed her search until she came to a great mountain that reared its crest high into the heavens. I am clad in a single soiled garment, yet my ancestors led forth hosts to conquer the earth.
Tell me whether you have seen anywhere my husband Nala the true King of the Nishadas. For three whole nights and days she wandered, her feet leading her to the North. And by rivulets that flashed in the golden sunlight, there rose huts made of leaves and branches. And deer roamed fearlessly through the orchards and drank in the running stream, and monkeys chased each other along the heavy boughs that shaded the huts.
Then Queen Damayanti knew that she had come to the hermitage of sages weary of the world. As she drew near, an aged man, clad only in bark, came out to meet her. But I pray that I may see him soon. For I am faint with hunger and weary with travel. And in a few days my strength will fail me and I shall die in the forest. And when she had finished, tears stood in their eyes, for they pitied her deeply. Then the sage who had welcomed her went to one side and seated himself under a tree and passed into a trance.
The queen looking at him could not tell whether he had died or was still living. But in a short time he opened his eyes and returned Damayanti's glance. When lo! And she stood once more alone in the heart of the forest. The queen rubbed her eyes, for she could scarcely believe them. As she walked she saw in front of her a giant Asoka tree and she remembered that as a child her nurse had told her that Asoka trees could, if they would, relieve mortals of their grief.
Have you by any chance seen my husband King Nala? He, who once went forth to battle clad from head to foot in mail, wears nothing now but a single rag to cover his loins. If you have seen him tell me; if not, take away from me the pain of my sorrow. For as a child I learnt that you could ease men of their grief.
Then to honour the Asoka tree she walked three times round its mighty trunk and with eye-lashes wet with tears she sadly resumed her quest. She walked up stream a little way, till she saw that a company of merchants had camped by the river. She hastened to join them, but seeing her worn with grief and toil and clad in a single rag, the merchants thought that she was an evil spirit of the woods and many of them ran away from her in terror.
The leader of the merchants, however, spoke to her kindly and said, "Fair lady, who are you? Are you a mortal woman or are you, as we think, a spirit from the forest come to do us harm? I seek my husband Nala King of the Nishadas.
Tell me, fair sir, whether by any chance you have seen him," "O Queen," said the leader of the merchants, "I have met neither King Nala nor any other man in this forest; for only wild elephants and lions and other beasts of prey live here. For perhaps if I go with you I may find my husband. And if you come with us we shall gladly take you. Its surface was bright with lotus blossoms and its shores were gay with flowering shrubs.
So the merchants halted and camped close to its waters. The same night, a herd of elephants came there to drink, and as the camp barred their way they rushed through it, trampling under foot and goring with their tusks all who came in their way.
The queen, fearing for her life, left them and fled into the forest. There she met some Brahmans, for the merchants had come near to the city of Suvahu, King of the Chedis. The Brahmans led her to the gates of the city, and she entered it.
But her hair was loose, her single garment hardly held together, and her face was worn with grief and hardship. And as she walked through the streets, the children, thinking her a mad woman, ran after her and mocked her. At last she reached the royal palace where, through the doors, she saw the king's mother surrounded by a number of her attendants. Timidly Damayanti asked an aged nurse who stood by to take her into the presence of the queen mother. The nurse led her inside the palace and on the way asked her who she was.
Damayanti said, "I am a serving maid, although of a high caste. I had a devoted husband, but he lost his fortune at dice. Then like a madman he left me and fled into the woods, and for many days I have been following him but have failed to find him. O mother of heroes," she said. For I love my husband only. She is of the same age as yourself and she will help you to pass your time when the king is with his ministers or is travelling through his kingdom.
Then taking her by the hand she led her joyfully into her own chamber. III After King Nala had forsaken his queen, he wandered at random through the forest until he saw a great fire in front of him. He would have hastened from the spot; but as he turned to go, he heard a voice that called, "Come hither!
Come hither! Seeing Nala, the snake said to him with a human voice, "My lord King, I am Karkotaka, the king of the snake people. Once I tricked the great sage Narada, and he cursed me, saying 'Lie here, motionless, until King Nala takes you away.
Then only will you be freed from my curse. But when his hands touched the snake, it became at once hardly bigger than his thumb. So raising it with ease, he carried it back with him through the flames until both were beyond their reach. Then he placed the snake on the ground. And as he walked away the snake followed him. As it bit him it assumed once more the form in which Nala had first seen it. Nala turned towards the snake in anger.
But it said in a soothing voice, "Do not fear, Nishada King, you will suffer no harm from my bite. But an enemy has possessed you and my poison will torture him until it forces him to leave your body and to torment you no more. My advice to you now is that you should go to Ayodhya, the city of King Rituparna, and teach him your skill in horses and in driving chariots, and learn from him in return his skill as a dicer.
For in dicing he has no equal in all the land of the Aryas.
King Rituparna will befriend you, and through his help you will recover your wife and your son and your daughter. So do not be downcast with grief. And when you wish to look like your former self, put on these two pieces of cloth and let your thoughts rest on me. Then, moving away swiftly through the ferns and grass, he vanished from the sight of his companion.
But King Nala took the snake king's advice and bent his steps towards Ayodhya, reaching it on the tenth day. Then he asked to see King Rituparna and in due time King Rituparna gave him audience.
Nala bowed humbly before King Rituparna. As he was on the verge of losing them all, his subjects, ministers, and Brahmins came to him, sending Damayanti ahead, in the hope of stopping him. But he turned them away, possessed as he was by Kali, so they were able to say nothing. Then Damayanti thought: "The more you lose, the more you want to play.
You grow stubborn. What can I do? This is the start of evil. When the kingdom itself had been lost, and everything else, Nala left the city together with Damayanti, destitute of all regal cover.
For three days, they lived outside the town. No one came to see him, by order of the new king, Puskara, whose mind was filled with the hostility that comes from that game, under Kali's influence. He was worthy of every honour, and now entirely dishonoured. Their only food for those three days was water. Unable to bear the pangs of hunger, he noticed some golden birds moving in front of him, and, thinking they would serve as food, tried to catch them by throwing at them the cloth he was wearing.
They flew off with it into the sky, laughing. Looking down at Nala, now naked, they said: "We are the dice that tricked you out of your possessions and your kingdom. We took the form of birds and came here to strip you of your clothes. Nala was amazed. All this, he realized, was due to his weakness for dice.
He covered himself with the end of Damayanti's sari. So they had only one piece of cloth between them. They looked at one another in dismay. Nala said, "The road goes south. This one goes to Vidarbha. This one to Kosala and that one to Ujjayini. Which shall we take? But you should not suffer with me in the wilderness. Go to your relatives. We can be happy there.
Why should we go into this treacherous forest, full of cruel animals? When I went there before, I was a rich king; I made all our family happy. How can I go there now, totally destitute? A man who is together with his wife won't be affected by calamity when it comes.
When you are exhausted, hungry or thirsty, a wife will know and take care of you. Don't think of me merely as dependent upon you, or a tag-along, to be pitied. Don't leave me. Let me come with you. I will do this. How could I leave you, who are dear to me as life itself? Don't worry. They rested there, lying on the hard, grey, dusty ground. Nala dosed his eyes, worn by the journey, but, in his misery, he couldn't fall asleep. He stood up, looking at Damayanti, who was sleeping, exhausted, at his feet.
Everyone has deserted me-my friends and subjects. Here I am, wandering in the wilderness with my wife. She was used to sleeping on a soft bed, while many maids skilfully massaged her feet; now she is sleeping in this hard and dusty place. She is suffering because she married me, through the working of fate.
I can't bear to see her suffer. I'll go away somewhere. When she finds me gone, she'll go to her relatives and live without grief. Without waking her, he tore her sari in half, covered himself, and went a little way. But he couldn't cut his bond to Damayanti, so he came back. The Kali in him wanted to leave her, but the husband in him was unwilling to leave his wife, because of their long-standing love. Nala was bound by the ropes of confusion.
He was like a swing that goes back and forth. He couldn't decide for a long time, but finally, pulled by Kali, he ruthlessly abandoned her. He didn't even think about what would happen if he left this young woman a prey to the forest. Later, Damayanti awoke and discovered that her husband was gone and her sari cut in two. In a panic, she looked everywhere. Could you be so devoid of kindness that you have left me?
You never strayed from the right path, never told a lie. You told me not to worry. Is it right to forget your promise? If you are hiding in a bush nearby, show yourself to me. Why are you so cruel to me? Where can I go? How can I find you in this terrible wilderness? All the learning in the Vedas and Vedic sciences is not worth one word of truth. You said you loved me like your life and would never leave me. Keep your word. But she wasn't worried about her own loneliness, or her helplessness as a woman, or the dangers that lurked at every step-thorns, animals, snakes-as much as she was worried about the helplessness of her husband and his hunger, thirst, and weariness.
She was tired. Every birdcall startled her. She sought refuge from the blazing sun in the shade of the trees. And there were bears and tigers. She was crying, kicking her way through thickets, trying to avoid the thorns.
She was scared, searching for a path somewhere, stumbling. Suddenly, at her feet, a hungry boa appeared and grabbed her. She couldn't move, paralyzed with fear. With his knife, he cut off the boa's head. He consoled Damayanti, who now appeared like the moon when it emerges from the serpent Rahu's clutches.
He led her to a pool where she could bathe and fed her sweet wild fruits. Then he asked who she was, and why she had come to this forest all alone. She told him her story, in her melodious voice. Her face was glowing like the moon, her hair black. She was every bit a princess, graceful in her walk, her body fragrant and luminous, her eyes wide as the lotus petal. The hunter saw her, and the sharp pain of desire split his heart.
So he told her, unblemished as she was. Her character was pure, like blazing fire that you can't reach or touch or even bear to see. But this rather crude hunter wanted her, without any second thoughts. He was soon to die. Damayanti looked at him with anger and spoke a curse: "Ifl am true to my husband, let this evil hunter die.
By the power that lies in faithfulness, and holding in her heart the image of her tiger of a husband, the young woman moved through the forest, no longer afraid of poisonous snakes, tigers, and other cruel animals. She was still searching for him, calling him at every tree, peeping into every cave. They were dwelling, intent upon their strenuous discipline, at the foot of trees.
It was a stroke of luck, earned by her good deeds in a former life, that she found that settlement of sages on the bank of a holy river, right in the midst of the wilderness infested by beasts, snakes, thieves and hunters. As soon as she saw them, she bowed. They were surprised to see her and asked: "Who are you? Are you the goddess of this forest?
Or a goddess from heaven? Why are you roaming around, radiant with light? He must be known to you as Punya-sloka, the famous patron of many great rituals. I'm the one they call Damayanti. Driven by fate, my husband got separated from me and went ofi somewhere or other. I'm looking for him all over this wilderness. I'm sure he must have come here to receive your blessings.
Tell me where he wentfromhere, if you know. Ifi don't see him within a few days, I will kill myself. That good man will rule his kingdom as before. We know this through our inner vision.
Don't grieve. She was left wondering if it was a dream. She went on and came upon a caravan. The travellers stared at her: her hair dishevelled, dusty, dry, her lean body covered only by half of a dirty sari, she looked like a crazy woman who never ate or drank or slept. Some of them ran away in fear, taking her for a ghoul. Some laughed at her. Others bowed to her, calling her a goddess. I lost track of my husband: my bad luck. I am roaming this forest all alone. Have you, perhaps, seen him-that compassionate man, who looks like a god?
He said to her, "No Nala in this forest-only elephants, tigers, bears. This is no place for people. Not even the sun's rays enter here. She asked if she could join them. So they took her along. She was longing for the sight of her husband and thinking over what the sages had said. They walked as far as they could until it became too hot, then rested near the cool waters of a pond. They were. In the middle of the night, a whole herd of elephants came there to drink, like a host of clouds descending on the ocean to absorb its water.
The travellers who were deep in sleep were trampled to death under the elephants' feet. Some were pierced by their tusks. Some ran, yelling in terror, and climbed trees. The caravan as a whole broke and scattered, like the wealth of an evil man.
But Damayanti survived.
She thought to herself, "Fate may be mindless. It killed all these people who were sleeping peacefully. They were crying out for life. I really want to die but fate forgot to kill me. I was thinking that I could go with this caravan and escape the suffering of the forest, but this herd of elephants has left the caravan in shambles.
Perhaps I did some evil act in a previous body. Or maybe the gods didn't forgive me for choosing Nala at the svayamvara, rejecting them in their face. Their anger may be the reason for this painful separation. After a long journey, they came to the city of the Cedi king.
As Damayanti was walking down the main street, thronged with people, the Queen-Mother saw her from her balcony. Though she was exhausted and lustreless like the crescent moon dimmed by daylight, she was still very beautiful. The Queen-Mother said to her maid: "Have a look at that woman, with her soiled and frayed sari and her hair grey with dust. She looks like the Goddess of Good Luck disguised as a crazy woman.
I feel something for her. Bring her here. Why do you seem to be crazed with grief? Tell me. I followed him into exile, like his shadow.
Fate allowed this. Since then, I have been watching for him. He was wearing a single piece of cloth, but he is handsome and noble. I have taken the sairandhri vow. She said nothing more. The Queen-Mother consoled her. I wiii send Brahmins to look for your husband. I won't eat any food that has been touched by others.
I won't wash others' feet. I won't speak with other men, except for the Brahmins who will be sent to search for my husband. If you accept these terms, I will stay with you. Otherwise, no. So Damanayti stayed in the Cedi city with the title "Sairandhri. Meanwhile, NaJa had proceeded deeper into the forest after leaving Damayanti. He came upon a wildfire, consuming huge trees, shooting sparks into the sky.
From within it came a desperate voice: "King, come and save me. He rushed into the raging fire and found a snake coiled up in distress. The snake made obeisance and said, "My name is Karkotaka. Through the power of karma, I once disobeyed a Brahmin, and he cursed me, so I cannot move. Fire is engulfing me on all sides.
I don't want to die. Take me, lord, to some cool lakeshore. Have mercy. If you save me, I will do you a favour. NaJa rushed with him to the edge of a lake, where he let him go. Karkotaka showed him his own true form and said, "Don't be sorry that I bit you. It is not good for you to be recognized by others. That is why I have made you deformed.
You will ultimately win all battles, be reunited with your wife, and enjoy your kingdom as before. The moment you want to resume your own form, just think of me.
This piece of cloth will come back to you. When you put it on, you will get your own body back. For now, you should go to the Iksvaku king, Rtuparna, and work for him. Teach him the skills you have, the Heart of Horses asva-hrdaya , and learn from him the Heart of the Dice aksa-hrdaya. Nala followed his advice and went to Rtuparna.
A good trainer of horses and also a good cook. And I have many other skills. I came to work for you. He became the master of Rtuparna's stables. He tamed his wild horses and taught the other ones new tricks. He also cooked delicious meals. As his assistants he had two of Rtuparna's employees- Varsneya and Jivala. But Nala remained in disguise. One evening, when he thought he was alone, he was thinking about Damayanti, conjuring up her appearance.
Did someone trap you in the forest? Have you been swallowed by some fearsome animal prowling for prey? Or are you at your parents' house, or in some other country? All night long he tossed and turned, sleepless, sighing. Jivala overheard his lament. He has love for women in his heart. The woman he's thinking of-must be as pretty as him. I don't know how or why, but some soldier called Dull-Wit became separated from his wife. I'm just imitating him. When the King ofVidarbha, Damayanti's father, heard that Nala had fallen from his kingdom, he grieved: "Where have my daughter and son-in-law gone?
Where are they now? Honouring them, he promised them a thousand gold coins if they found out where Nala and Damayanti were-and thousands of cows and villages if they actually brought them back. The Brahmins searched through the whole world, all the villages, towns and cities, in many countries. One of them, named Sudeva, went to the city of Subahu, the Cedi king. He entered the palace together with the local Brahmins in their morning routine of declaring the day auspicious.
There, in the women's quarters, he saw a woman in the company of the princess Sunanda. She was covered in dust, like a fire enveloped in smoke, or like the moon hidden by dark clouds, or like a lotus sunk in the mud. She wasn't easily identifiable, but he scrutinized her forehead, searching for a tiny mark between her eyebrows; that was how he recognized her as Damayanti.
He thought to himself, "Without her husband, she is like a dried-up river, or a lotus-pond with no lotuses. Not as radiant any more, though she still radiates faithfulness.
A husband's devotion is the only real decoration for a woman. It can't be stolen or dimmed. When will she come together with her husband again, like the star Rohini when she joins the moon?
When will my king have the joy of seeing those two together, perfectly matched as they are in age, beauty, birth and qualities? But they have been worried about you, not knowing where you were. Now the anxiety will end. I am Sudeva, a friend of your brother.
Your father, the king, has sent out many Brahmins in search of you. By my good luck, I came here and found you. She asked about her children, her parents, and her other relatives, one by one, as tears fell. Sunanda reported to the Queen-Mother that the Sairandhri was crying, for some unknown reason. They found Damayanti and the Brahmin talking to one another.
The Queen-Mother asked the Brahmin: "Sir, whose daughter is she? Whose wife?
Why is she keeping these vows and why was she separated from her husband and family? How do you know her? Does she have a name? When the king heard that she followed after her husband, who had lost his kingdom, he sent Brahmins to look for them.
I came here and saw this woman in your care. She has a certain good-luck sign, shaped like a lotus, placed by the Creator himself between her eyebrows.
I noticed it, though it was hidden by dust, and knew she was the princess. The Queen-Mother embraced her in joy. She married the lord ofVidarbha, and I married Virabahu. She stayed there for a few more days.
Finally, she said to the Queen-Mother: "Both this house and the other one are home to me. I am happy here or there.
But I want to see my parents, my brothers, and my children. Permit me to go to Vidarbha. After arriving at Vidarbha, though she was now with her parents, she still refused all physical comforts. She still wore that soiled, old half-sari, and her body remained cloaked with dust. She kept to her vow, in the hope of seeing her husband again.
She could hardly bear to go on living without him. One day, she went to her mother and said, in confidence, "Send somebody to look for Nala. He is the only one who can remove my grief. He appointed trustworthy Brahmins to seek out Nala. Damayanti spoke to them before they left: "Nala, the king ofNisadha, is not fully himself. Go from one court to another and recite the following words: "You are a truthful man. Was it right for you to leave your wife, taking half her sari to cover yourself?
You made the law of husband and wife lnto a lie. How can you be so unkind? That good woman deserves compassion. If anyone can't bear this accusation and tries to respond, you can assume that man is Nala.
Tell him about me and bring him here. If he won't come, come and tell me where he is.