“Vrihadaswa said, ‘Having heard the words of the leader of that caravan,
Damayanti of faultless limbs proceeded with that caravan itself anxious
to behold her lord. And after having proceeded for many days the
merchants saw a large lake fragrant with lotuses in the midst of that
dense and terrible forest. And it was beautiful all over, and exceedingly
delightful, (with banks) abounding in grass and fuel and fruits and
flowers. And it was inhabited by various kinds of fowls and birds, and
fall of water that was pure and sweet. And it was cool and capable of
captivating the heart. And the caravan, worn out with toil, resolved to
halt there. And with the permission of their leader, they spread
themselves around those beautiful woods. And that mighty caravan finding
it was evening halted at that place. And (it came to pass that) at the
hour of midnight when everything was hushed and still and the tired
caravan had fallen asleep, a herd of elephants in going towards a
mountain stream to drink of its water befouled by their temporal juice,
saw that caravan as also the numerous elephants belonging to it. And
seeing their domesticated fellows the wild elephants infuriated and with
the temporal juice trickling down rushed impetuously on the former, with
the intention of killing them. And the force of the rush of those
elephants was hard to bear, like the impetuosity of peaks lessened from
mountain summits rolling towards the plain. The rushing elephants found
the forest paths to be all blocked up, for the goodly caravan was
sleeping obstructing the paths around that lake of lotuses. And the
elephants all of a sudden, began to crush the men lying insensible on the
ground. And uttering cries of ‘Oh!’ and ‘Alas!’ the merchants, blinded by
sleep, fled, in order to escape that danger, to copses and woods for
refuge. And some were slain by the tusks, and some by the trunks, and
some by the legs of those elephants. And innumerable camels and horses
were killed, and crowds of men on foot, running in fright, killed one
another. And uttering loud cries some fell down on the ground, and some
in fear climbed on trees, and some dropped down on uneven ground. And, O
king, thus accidentally attacked by that large herd of elephants, that
goodly caravan suffered a great loss. And there arose a tremendous uproar
calculated to frighten the three worlds, ‘Lo! a great fire hath broken
out. Rescue us.
Do ye speedily fly away. Why do ye fly? Take the heaps of jewels
scattered around. All this wealth is a trifle. I do not speak falsely, ‘I
tell you again, (exclaimed some one) think on my words, O ye distracted
one!’ With such exclamation they ran about in fright. And Damayanti awoke
in fear and anxiety, while that terrible slaughter was raging there. And
beholding slaughter capable of awaking the fear of all the worlds, and
which was so unforeseen, the damsel of eyes like lotus leaves rose up,
wild with fright, and almost out of breath. And those of the caravan that
had escaped unhurt, met together, and asked one another, ‘Of what deed of
ours is this the consequence? Surely, we have failed to worship the
illustrious Manibhadras, and likewise the exalted and graceful
Vaisravana, the king of the Yaksha. Perhaps, we have not worshipped the
deities that cause calamities, or perhaps, we have not paid them the
first homage. Or, perhaps, this evil is the certain consequence of the
birds (we saw). Our stars are not unpropitious. From what other cause,
then hath this disaster come?’ Others, distressed and bereft of wealth
and relatives, said, ‘That maniac-like woman who came amongst this mighty
caravan in guise that was strange and scarcely human, alas, it is by her
that this dreadful illusion had been pre-arranged. Of a certainty, she is
a terrible Rakshasa or a Yaksha or a Pisacha woman. All this evil is her
work, what need of doubts? If we again see that wicked destroyer of
merchants, that giver of innumerable woes, we shall certainly slay that
injurer of ours, with stones, and dust, and grass, and wood, and cuffs.’
And hearing these dreadful words of the merchants, Damayanti, in terror
and shame and anxiety, fled into the woods apprehensive of evil. And
reproaching herself she said, ‘Alas! fierce and great is the wrath of God
on me. Peace followeth not in my track. Of what misdeed is this the
consequence? I do not remember that I did ever so little a wrong to any
one in thought, word, or deed. Of what deed, then, is this the
consequence? Certainly, it is on account of the great sins I had
committed in a former life that such calamity hath befallen me, viz., the
loss of my husband’s kingdom, his defeat at the hands of his own kinsmen,
this separation from my lord and my son and daughter, this my unprotected
state, and my presence in this forest abounding in innumerable beasts of
prey!’”
“The next day, O king, the remnant of that caravan left the place
bewailing the destruction that had overtaken them and lamenting for their
dead brothers and fathers and sons and friends. And the princess of
Vidarbha began to lament, saying, ‘Alas! What misdeed have I perpetrated!
The crowd of men that I obtained in this lone forest, hath been destroyed
by a herd of elephants, surely as a consequence of my ill luck. Without
doubt, I shall have to suffer misery for a long time. I have heard from
old men that no person dieth ere his time; it is for this that my
miserable self hath not been trodden to death by that herd of elephants.
Nothing that befalleth men is due to anything else than Destiny, for even
in my childhood I did not commit any such sin in thought, word, or deed,
whence might come this calamity. Methinks, I suffer this severance from
my husband through the potency of those celestial Lokapalas, who had come
to the Swayamvara but whom I disregarded for the sake of Nala.’ Bewailing
thus, O tiger among kings, that excellent lady, Damayanti, devoted to her
husband, went, oppressed with grief and (pale) as the autumnal moon, with
those Brahmanas versed in the Vedas that had survived the slaughter of
the caravan. And departing speedily, towards evening, the damsel came to
the mighty city of the truth-telling Suvahu, the king of the Chedis. And
she entered that excellent city clad in half a garment. And the citizens
saw her as she went, overcome with fear, and lean, melancholy, her hair
dishevelled and soiled with dust, and maniac-like. And beholding her
enter the city of the king of the Chedis, the boys of the city, from
curiosity, began to follow her. And surrounded by them, she came before
the palace of the king. And from the terrace the queen-mother saw her
surrounded by the crowd. And she said to her nurse, ‘Go and bring that
woman before me. She is forlorn and is being vexed by the crowd. She hath
fallen into distress and standeth in need of succour. I find her beauty
to be such that it illumineth my house. The fair one, though looking like
a maniac, seemeth a very Sree with her large eyes.’ Thus commanded, the
nurse went out and dispersing the crowd brought Damayanti to that
graceful terrace. And struck with wonder, O king, she asked Damayanti,
saying, ‘Afflicted though thou art with such distress, thou ownest a
beautiful form. Thou shinest like lightning in the midst of the clouds.
Tell me who thou art, and whose. O thou possessed of celestial splendour,
surely, thy beauty is not human, bereft though thou art of ornaments. And
although thou art helpless, yet thou art unmoved under the outrage of
these men.’ Hearing these words of the nurse, the daughter of Bhima said,
Know that I am a female belonging to the human species and devoted to my
husband. I am a serving woman of good lineage. I live wherever I like,
subsisting on fruit and roots, and whom a companion, and stay where
evening overtaketh me. My husband is the owner of countless virtues and
was ever devoted to me. And I also, on my part, was deeply attached to
him, following him like his shadow. It chanced that once he became
desperately engaged at dice. Defeated at dice, he came along into the
forest. I accompanied my husband into the woods, comforting the hero clad
in a single piece of cloth and maniac-like and overwhelmed with calamity.
Once on a time for some cause, that hero, afflicted with hunger and
thirst and grief, was forced to abandon that sole piece of covering in
the forest. Destitute of garment and maniac-like and deprived of his
senses as he was, I followed him, myself in a single garment. Following
him, I did not sleep for nights together. Thus passed many days, until at
last while I was sleeping, he cut off half of my cloth, and forsook me
who had done him no wrong. I am seeking my husband but unable to find him
who is of hue like the filaments of the lotus, without being able to cast
my eyes on that delight of my heart, that dear lord who owneth my heart
and resembleth the celestials in mien, day and night do I burn in grief.”
“Unto Bhima’s daughter thus lamenting with tearful eyes, and afflicted
and speaking in accents choked in grief, the queen-mother herself said,
‘O blessed damsel, do thou stay with me. I am well pleased with thee. O
fair lady, my men shall search for thy husband. Or, perhaps he may come
here of his own accord in course of his wanderings. And, O beautiful
lady, residing here thou wilt regain thy (lost) lord.’ Hearing these
words of the queen mother, Damayanti replied, ‘O mother of heroes, I may
stay with thee on certain conditions. I shall not eat the leavings on any
dish, nor shall I wash anybody’s feet, nor shall I have to speak with
other men. And if anybody shall seek me (as a wife or mistress) he should
be liable to punishment at thy hands. And, further, should he solicit me
over and over again, that wicked one should be punished with death. This
is the vow I have made. I intend to have an interview with those
Brahmanas that will set out to search for my husband. If thou canst do
all this, I shall certainly live with thee. If it is otherwise, I cannot
find it in my heart to reside with thee.’ The queen-mother answered her
with a glad heart, saying, ‘I will do all this. Thou hast done well in
adopting such a vow!’”
“Vrihadaswa continued, ‘O king, having spoken so unto the daughter of
Bhima, the queen-mother, O Bharata, said to her daughter named Sunanda,
‘O Sunanda, accept this lady like a goddess as thy Sairindhri! Let her be
thy companion, as she is of the same age with thee. Do thou, with heart
free from care, always sport with her in joy.’ And Sunanda cheerfully
accepted Damayanti and led her to her own apartment accompanied by her
associates. And treated with respect, Damayanti was satisfied, and she
continued to reside there without anxiety of any kind, for all her wishes
were duly gratified.’”