"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 full 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 alone 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.'"