Before you begin
Arjuna is away, and Yudhishthira asks who has suffered more
“When Arjuna went to Indra’s realm to obtain weapons, what did Yudhishthira and the other sons of Pandu do?” Janamejaya asked. Vaishampayana brought the account back to the forest of Kamyaka. The remaining Pandavas, bulls of the Bharata line, stayed there with Draupadi, also called Krishna, grieving for the brother on whom so much depended. One day they sat together on a clean, secluded stretch of grass, overwhelmed with sorrow. They had already lost their kingdom. Now Arjuna’s absence tortured them, grief afflicted them all equally, and weeping choked their voices. It was Bhima who spoke, and he spoke to Yudhishthira, the eldest brother whose orders had sent Arjuna on his journey. “All our lives depend on him,” he said. “If Arjuna dies, the Panchalas will die too, and so will we, our sons, Satyaki, and Vasudeva. Yet you were the one who told him to go. What could be sadder than seeing that virtuous man obey you and leave us, carrying the weight of so many griefs? Relying on the might of that illustrious hero’s arms, you can count our enemies already defeated in battle and the whole earth already won. He was the reason I held back in the assembly when I could have sent every son of Dhritarashtra and every one of Shakuni’s kin, the sons of Subala, to the other world. We have the strength of our arms, and Vasudeva stands beside us. Still we must suppress the anger that has been roused in us, and you, Yudhishthira, are its root.”
“With Krishna’s help, we can kill Karna and the rest of our enemies,” Bhima continued. “Then we can rule the whole earth, conquered by our own arms. We have the courage and ability, yet your addiction to dice has overwhelmed us with disaster. Meanwhile, Dhritarashtra’s foolish sons grow stronger on the tribute their dependent kings bring them. Keep the duty of a kshatriya before you, Yudhishthira. A warrior king’s task is to govern. The wise place that responsibility first among his duties. You know the obligations of a kshatriya, Bharata, the ruling and fighting order into which we were born. Living in the woods does not fulfill them. You understand this dharma. Do not turn away from the path you know. Let us leave this forest, summon Arjuna and Krishna, and kill Dhritarashtra’s sons before the twelve years are over. Even if those men stand protected inside an army drawn up for battle, I can send them to the other world by my strength alone. I will kill all of Dhritarashtra’s sons along with Subala’s, Duryodhana and Karna among them, and anyone else who fights me. Once all our enemies are dead, you can return to the forest. You will have committed no wrong. If there is any sin to wash away, we can perform the sacrifices that cleanse it and rise to a higher heaven. All this is possible, provided our king uses his judgment and acts without delay. You are a virtuous man. Those who use deceit should be destroyed by deceit. Killing a cheat through his own methods is held to be no sin. Those who understand dharma also say, Yudhishthira, that a single day and night can equal a whole year. There is a teaching in the Vedas that a day spent observing certain difficult vows counts as a year. If you accept the Vedas as your authority, take a day and a little more as the equivalent of thirteen years. This is the moment to kill Duryodhana and his followers. Otherwise he will bring the whole earth under his control before we act.”
Bhima would not let it rest. The terms of the game required twelve years of exile and a thirteenth year in which they must remain undiscovered, and he could see danger in both the hiding and the return that ought to follow it. “All of this comes from your gambling,” he said. “The promise to spend a year unrecognized already puts us on the verge of destruction. Where is there a country in which we can live without Duryodhana’s spies finding us? Once that wretch traces us, he will use his deceit to send us into exile in the woods again. And suppose he sees us emerge after completing the year without being discovered. He will invite you to another game. The dice will fall again, and you will lose yourself again. You have no skill at dice, and when someone summons you to play, you lose your senses, and we will have to spend another term in the woods. If you do not wish to make us wretched for life, follow the Vedic rule completely: destroy the deceitful by deceit. Give me your command. I will go to Hastinapura and put forth my utmost strength against Duryodhana, as fire falling on a heap of grass consumes it. Give me permission.” Yudhishthira smelled the crown of his younger brother’s head, an elder’s gesture of affection, and tried to calm him. “You will certainly kill Duryodhana with Arjuna’s help when the thirteenth year has ended, Bhima,” he answered. “But you ask me to say the time is already complete. I cannot dare to speak that falsehood. There is no untruth in me. Without fraud, son of Kunti, you will kill that wicked, formidable man and his allies.”
Yudhishthira was still speaking when the sage Brihadaswa arrived. The king received the ascetic according to the prescribed rites and offered him madhuparka, the formal welcome owed to an honored guest. Once Brihadaswa had taken his seat and been refreshed, Yudhishthira sat beside him. Looking up at the sage, he spoke in a voice full of distress. “Cunning men who knew the dice summoned me to play, Brihadaswa, and through that game they took my wealth and kingdom. I am no expert at dice. I know nothing of their deceit. Those sinful men defeated me by unfair means. They even dragged my wife into the public assembly, though she is dearer to me than my own life. Then they defeated me a second time and sent me to suffer in this great forest. I wear deerskins now and live here in misery, my heart full of grief. Every harsh and cruel word they spoke during that game remains in my memory. I can recall their harshness and the pain of hearing it. I remember, too, what my grieving friends said about the dice and everything else that happened. Their words remain with me alongside the words of our enemies. At night they return to me. The whole night passes in anxiety, and I cannot sleep. Arjuna is gone as well. He carries Gandiva, and all our lives depend on him. Without him I feel almost dead myself. When will I see him return with all the weapons he has gone to obtain? He speaks so gently. His heart is generous; he is kind and always ready to act. When will he come back to us? Is there a king anywhere on earth more unfortunate than I am? Have you ever seen such a man, or even heard of one? I cannot imagine anyone more wretched than myself.”
“You say that no one is more miserable than you, son of Pandu,” Brihadaswa answered. “If you will listen, I can tell you the history of a king who suffered even more.” “Tell me,” Yudhishthira said. “I want to hear the history of the king who fell into such a condition.” “Listen carefully with your brothers, Yudhishthira, and I will tell you the history of a prince more miserable than yourself,” Brihadaswa said. “Among the Nishadhas there was a famous king named Virasena. His son Nala understood dharma and the management of worldly affairs. I have heard how Pushkara defeated that king through deceit at dice. Disaster followed, and Nala went to live in the forest with his wife. He had no servants there to attend him and no chariot to carry him. No brother accompanied him; no friend stayed beside him. Look at the great brothers who surround you, heroes like the gods themselves, and the learned Brahmins living with you, men worthy to be compared with Brahma. You have their company. You should not give yourself over to grief.” “You speak so well,” Yudhishthira told the sage. “I want to hear the history of that illustrious Nala in detail. Tell it to me.”
The gist: Arjuna is away winning weapons, and the four brothers sit with Draupadi in the Kamyaka forest. Bhima urges immediate war and argues that the exile can be counted as complete; Yudhishthira refuses to break his word through falsehood. When the sage Brihadaswa arrives, the king asks whether anyone has suffered more than he has, and the sage answers with the story of Nala of the Nishadhas, a king defeated at dice by Pushkara who entered the forest with his wife and had neither brothers nor friends beside him. Yudhishthira asks to hear the whole history of Nala in detail.
The swan’s message, and the gods on Nala’s road
Nala, Virasena’s son, ruled the Nishadhas at the head of a powerful army. He was strong and handsome, accomplished in the knowledge of horses and endowed with every excellence a king could desire. He stood among rulers as Indra stood among the gods, raised above them all, his glory like the sun’s. He cared for the Brahmins, knew the Vedas, and possessed great courage. He spoke the truth and loved to play dice. Men and women alike loved him. Great of soul, generous and self-controlled, a guardian of all his people and the first of archers, he resembled Manu himself. Vidarbha, too, had a king named Bhima, a formidable warrior, heroic, well disposed toward his subjects and possessed of every virtue. Yet Bhima and his queen had no children, and with a fixed mind he devoted himself to the effort to obtain them. When the Brahmin sage Damana came to his court, husband and wife, longing for offspring, received him with the respect prescribed by dharma. Pleased with their welcome, the sage granted them a jewel of a daughter and three sons who would be generous, high-souled and famous. Their daughter was Damayanti; the sons were Dama, Danta, and Damana. All three boys grew accomplished, imposing, and fierce in battle. Damayanti, slender-waisted, became known throughout the world for her beauty, radiance, good name, grace, and good fortune. When she came of age, hundreds of attendants and serving women, dressed in ornaments, waited upon her as though she were Shachi, Indra’s queen. Adorned with every kind of ornament herself, Bhima’s daughter, faultless in every feature, shone among them like lightning in a bank of clouds. Her large eyes and lovely form recalled Shri, the goddess of good fortune. No one had seen or heard of a woman among gods, yakshas, or human beings whose beauty could equal hers. Even the gods delighted in her. Nala, meanwhile, had no equal in any of the three worlds. His beauty was that of Kandarpa, the god of desire, made visible in a human body.
Heralds, moved by admiration, sang Nala’s praises again and again in Damayanti’s presence, and before the king of the Nishadhas they sang Damayanti’s with the same admiration. Hearing of each other’s qualities over and over, each came to love the person those voices described. They had never seen one another; the attachment took hold without sight, and it grew. Nala could no longer contain the love within him. He spent much of his time alone in the gardens adjoining the palace’s inner apartments. There he saw a flock of swans with golden wings moving through the wooded grounds, and he caught one in his hands. The bird spoke to him. “Do not kill me, Nala. I will do something to please you. I will speak of you to Damayanti in such a way that she will never wish to choose anyone else as her husband.” Nala let it go. The swans rose on their wings, flew to Vidarbha, and came down before Damayanti in the royal city. Surrounded by her companions, she saw the extraordinary birds and delighted in them, and she lost no time in trying to catch one. The swans scattered in every direction before that company of beauties, and the young women ran after them, each pursuing a different bird. The swan Damayanti followed drew her to a secluded spot. Then it addressed her in a human voice. “Among the Nishadhas there is a king named Nala, Damayanti. His beauty equals that of the twin Ashvins; no man can match him. He is Kandarpa himself in bodily form. If you become his wife, your life and this beauty of yours will find their purpose. We have seen the gods and celestial gandharvas, the great serpents called nagas, rakshasas, and human beings. We have never seen anyone like Nala. You are a jewel among women, and he stands first among men. The best joined with the best makes a happy union.” “Say the same to Nala,” Damayanti answered. “So be it,” said the swan. It returned to the country of the Nishadhas and told Nala everything.
From the time she heard the swan, Damayanti lost her peace of mind, and Nala occupied her thoughts. She sighed again and again, grew anxious and melancholy, pale and thin; desire had taken possession of her heart. With her gaze turned upward and her attention wandering, she seemed almost out of her senses, and she had no inclination for her bed, her seat, or any of the comforts around her. By day and by night she would not lie down, and she kept weeping and crying out, “Oh!” and “Alas!” Seeing her restless and fallen into that condition, her attendants brought word of her illness to Bhima through indirect hints, and the king took their report seriously. “Why is it that my daughter seems so ill now?” he asked himself. Reflecting that she had reached marriageable age, he concluded that her svayamvara should take place: the princes would gather, and Damayanti would choose a husband from among them. Bhima sent word to the rulers of the earth that the time for his daughter’s choice was at hand. Kings answered the summons from every direction. Their chariots rattled, their elephants roared, and their horses neighed until the earth seemed full of the sound, and fine-looking troops accompanied them, wearing ornaments and graceful garlands. Bhima received each illustrious ruler with the respect due to him, and the guests, duly honored, settled into the quarters he provided.
At that time, the celestial sages Narada and Parvata reached Indra’s realm in the course of their travels. Both possessed great wisdom, splendor, and steadfast vows. They entered the lord of the gods’ mansion and received an honorable welcome. Indra paid them reverence and asked whether all was well with them. “Peace attends us in every respect,” Narada said, “and peace attends the kings of the whole world too.” “The righteous rulers who give up their desire to live and face death by weapons when their time comes, without fleeing the battlefield, have a place here forever,” Indra said. “This realm grants their wishes as it grants mine. Where are those kshatriya heroes? I no longer see the kings approaching. What has become of my favorite guests?” “Listen, Maghavat, and you will know why you do not see the kings now,” Narada answered. “The king of Vidarbha has a daughter, the renowned Damayanti. Her beauty surpasses that of every other woman on earth. Her svayamvara will take place shortly, and kings and princes are going there from every direction. Every ruler longs to win that jewel of the earth; they long for her eagerly.” While Narada and Indra were speaking, the other guardians of the world appeared before the lord of the gods, with Agni among them. They heard the sage’s account, weighty as it was, and cried out in delight, “We will go there too.”
Accompanied by their attendants, the gods mounted their respective vehicles and set out for Vidarbha, where the kings had already gone. Nala also heard of that gathering of kings. He departed with a cheerful heart, full of love for Damayanti. On the way, the gods saw him walking the earth below. His form had the beauty of the god of desire, and he shone like the sun. The guardians of the world gazed in astonishment at such wealth of beauty and abandoned the intention with which they had set out. Leaving their vehicles suspended in the sky, they descended to meet the king of the Nishadhas. “Nala, ruler of the Nishadhas, you are devoted to truth,” they said. “Help us. Be our messenger.”
The gist: Two courts: Nala rules the Nishadhas, and Bhima of Vidarbha (no relation to the Pandava) has the daughter Damayanti by a sage’s boon. Nala and Damayanti fall in love through hearing about each other, and a golden-winged swan carries their messages. Damayanti’s distress leads her father to arrange a svayamvara, the ceremony at which a princess chooses her own husband. Kings assemble for it, and when the wandering sage Narada tells Indra why his hall is empty of warrior guests, the four guardians of the world, Indra, Agni, Varuna and Yama, set out as well. On the road they meet Nala, who is traveling there for love, and ask him to become their messenger.
Nala’s promise and Damayanti’s choice
“I will do it,” Nala told the gods. He had come toward Vidarbha as a suitor himself, following the love the swans had carried between him and Damayanti, and he pledged his word before he knew what the errand would cost him. Only then did he approach them with joined hands. “Who are you? And who is it that wants me as his messenger? And what, further, will I have to do for you? Tell me truly.” “Know us as immortals who have come here for Damayanti’s sake,” Indra said. “I am Indra. This is Agni, the fire god; this is Varuna, lord of the waters; and this is Yama, who brings human bodies to their end. Tell Damayanti that we have arrived. Say to her, ‘The guardians of the world, the great Indra and the others, are coming to the assembly to see the svayamvara. The gods Indra, Agni, Varuna, and Yama wish to have you. Choose one of them as your husband.’” With his hands still joined, Nala asked to be released from the errand. “I have come here for the very same reason. Please do not send me. How can a man who is himself in love bring himself to speak like this to a woman on behalf of others? Spare me this.” They held him to the answer he had already given. “You began by promising, ‘I will do it.’ Why will you not act on that promise now, Nala? Tell us at once.” Nala raised another difficulty. “Those mansions are well guarded. How can I hope to enter them?” “You will be able to enter,” Indra said. “So be it,” said Nala, and he went to Damayanti’s palace.
Inside, he found Damayanti surrounded by her attendants. Her beauty blazed before him: the grace and symmetry of her form, delicate limbs, slender waist, and lovely eyes. Her radiance seemed to shame the light of the moon. As he gazed at her gentle smile, Nala’s love grew stronger, but he wanted to keep his word, and he suppressed his passion. The young women sprang up from their seats in astonishment at the man who had appeared among them. His splendor overwhelmed them. In the gladness of their hearts they praised him, though not aloud; they paid him homage in their minds. Oh, what beauty! Oh, what gentleness belongs to this great-souled man! Who is he? Is he some god, or a yaksha, or a gandharva? Confounded by his splendor and by their own shyness, they would not address him at all. Damayanti was astonished too, but she smiled and addressed him, and Nala smiled gently in return. “Who are you?” she asked. “You have come here and stirred my love. Your appearance is like a god’s, and I want to know who you are. Why have you come? These apartments are well guarded, and the king’s orders are strict. How did you arrive without anyone discovering you?” “Know that my name is Nala,” he replied. “I have come as the gods’ messenger. Indra, Agni, Varuna, and Yama desire you. Choose one of them as your husband. Their power allowed me to enter unseen. That is why no one saw me on my way here or stopped me at the entrance. The foremost of the gods sent me for this very purpose. You have heard their message; now do as you please.”
Damayanti bowed in reverence to the gods and then, smiling, spoke to Nala. “Give me your love with the respect it deserves, and command me; tell me what I can do for you. I am yours, and everything I possess is yours. Trust me completely and give me your love. The swans’ words are burning within me. It is for your sake that I had all these kings assembled. If you forsake me when I adore you, I will turn to poison, fire, water, or a rope for your sake.” “The guardians of the world are here, and you choose a human being?” Nala answered. “Turn your heart toward those great lords who create the worlds. I am not even equal to the dust beneath their feet. A mortal who displeases the gods meets his death. Save me, Damayanti. Choose one of the supreme immortals. With them you can have spotless robes, divine garlands of many colors, and the finest ornaments. What woman would refuse Agni, that great god who surrounds the earth and consumes it? Who would refuse Yama, the fear of whose mace keeps every creature on the path of virtue? Who would refuse righteous, mighty Indra, king of the gods, who punishes the daityas and danavas? Or, if your heart inclines toward Varuna among these guardians, accept him without hesitation. Take this advice from someone who wishes you well.”
Tears of grief filled Damayanti’s eyes. “I bow to all the gods, and I choose you as my husband,” she told him. “I am speaking the truth.” She stood trembling, her hands joined. Nala answered as the envoy he had agreed to become. “Do as you wish. I have given my promise, and I have given it to the gods themselves. How can I come on someone else’s mission and then pursue my own interest? If there is a way to seek what I desire without violating dharma, I will take it. You must find a way that keeps to dharma as well.” Damayanti of the luminous smile spoke slowly, her voice choked with tears. “I can see a blameless way,” she said. “No sin whatever will fall upon you. Come to the svayamvara together with Indra and all the gods. There, in the presence of the guardians of the world, I will choose you, Nala. You will incur no blame.” Having heard her proposal, Nala returned to the place where the gods were waiting together.
As soon as they saw him approach, the great guardians eagerly asked what had happened. “Have you seen Damayanti of the sweet smile, Nala? What has she said to us all? Tell us everything.” “At your command, I entered her palace,” Nala reported. “Its gateways are lofty, and veteran guards stand watch with staffs in their hands. Through your power, no one detected me as I came inside except the princess. She saw me, and so did her attendants, and I saw them too, filled with amazement at my appearance. I spoke to her of you. But she had set her will on me, and she chose me as her husband. She said, ‘Let the gods come with you to the svayamvara. I will choose you in their presence, and no blame will attach to you.’ That is everything that took place, exactly as I have told you. The decision now rests with you.”
The gist: Nala has promised to act as the gods’ messenger before learning that the four guardians of the world, Indra, Agni, Varuna and Yama, want Damayanti to marry one of them. Admitted to her guarded apartments by their power, he delivers the message, and she declares her love for him. He refuses to use their mission to advance his own desire, so she proposes that he come to the svayamvara with the gods and let her choose him publicly. Nala reports her answer to the gods in full and leaves the decision with them. The whole scene turns on the pledge he gave before he knew its content.
Five identical figures, and the man Damayanti chooses
When the appointed hour arrived, in the auspicious season and on the sacred lunar day, Bhima summoned the kings to the svayamvara. They had come to Vidarbha hoping to win his daughter, and now, eager with love, they hurried into the assembly where she would make her choice. Golden pillars decorated the great arena, and a high arch rose over its entrance. The rulers passed beneath it like lions entering a mountain wilderness, and each took his allotted seat, fragrant garlands hanging upon him, polished earrings and precious stones adorning him. That sacred gathering of kings, graced by such tigers among men, resembled Bhogavati, the capital of the Nagas in the realm below the earth, crowded with its great serpents, or a mountain cavern full of tigers. Their strong, well-shaped arms had the solidity of iron maces and the grace of snakes with five heads, and with their fine hair, fine noses, eyes, and brows, their faces shone together like stars across the sky. Then Damayanti entered, and her dazzling light stole the eyes and the hearts of the princes. Wherever a man’s eyes first fell upon her, they remained fixed, unable to move away. The names of the rulers were announced, and Damayanti looked among the assembled men. She saw five figures with precisely the same appearance. Every one of them looked like Nala.
Doubt filled her. She turned her attention from one figure to another, and each seemed to be the king of the Nishadhas; whichever one she looked at appeared to be the same man, and she could not make out which was Nala. Anxiety rose in her. How am I to distinguish the gods, she thought, and how discern the royal Nala? Grief followed the thought. She remembered the signs by which, her elders had told her, immortals could be recognized, and she searched for them. The attributes of the gods that I have heard of from the aged, she thought, belong to none of these beings sitting here upon the earth. She considered the difficulty at length, returning to it again and again, and at last she decided to seek the protection of the gods themselves, the very beings among whom she could not distinguish her husband. Trembling, she joined her hands and bowed to them in thought and speech. “From the moment I heard the swans, I chose the king of the Nishadhas as my husband. By that truth, let the gods reveal him to me. In thought and word I have never turned away from him. By that truth, let the gods reveal him to me. The gods themselves have destined him to be my husband. By that truth, let them reveal him to me. I undertook this vow so that I could honor Nala. By that truth, let the gods reveal him to me. Let the exalted guardians of the world assume their own proper forms, so that I can recognize the righteous king.” The gods heard her piteous appeal. They recognized the firmness of her choice, the intensity of her love for the king of the Nishadhas, her purity of heart, and the affection and regard she held for Nala. They did as she had asked and displayed their divine attributes as fully as they could.
Now Damayanti could see the difference. The gods had no sweat upon them. Their eyes remained open without blinking, their garlands stayed fresh, and no dust marked them. They rested above the ground without touching it. Nala cast a shadow. His garland was fading; dust and sweat marked his body. His feet rested on the earth, and his eyes blinked. Recognizing both the immortals and the virtuous king, Damayanti carried out the choice she had sworn to make. Shyly, she caught the edge of Nala’s garment and placed a beautiful wreath of flowers around his neck. The gathered kings burst into cries of “Oh!” and “Alas!” The gods and the great sages cried “Excellent! Excellent!” in wonder, praising the man she had chosen. Joy filled Virasena’s son, and he comforted Damayanti with a promise of his own. “You have chosen a mortal here in the presence of the gods. Know that your husband will always honor your commands. I tell you this in truth: for as long as there is life in this body, I will belong to you alone.” With joined hands, Damayanti answered him with a pledge of the same devotion. The happy pair looked toward Agni and the other gods and silently sought their protection.
The guardians of the world, blazing in their splendor and pleased at heart, bestowed eight gifts upon Nala, two from each god. Indra promised that Nala would see him at sacrifices and afterward attain blessed realms. Agni promised to appear whenever Nala wished and granted him realms as radiant as the fire god himself. Yama granted him fine flavor in food and distinction in virtue. Varuna, lord of the waters, promised his presence whenever Nala desired it and garlands endowed with a celestial fragrance. After granting these boons, the gods went to heaven. The kings, who had watched Damayanti’s choice with astonishment, also returned delighted to the lands they had come from. Once those great rulers had departed, a well-pleased Bhima celebrated the marriage of his daughter and the king of the Nishadhas. Nala remained in Vidarbha as long as he wished, then obtained Bhima’s permission to return to his own city. Having won that pearl among women, the virtuous king passed his days in joy, like Indra, slayer of Vala and Vritra, in the company of Shachi. His glory resembled the sun’s, and he governed righteously, giving his subjects great satisfaction. Like Yayati, Nahusha’s son, he performed the horse sacrifice and many other sacrifices, making abundant gifts to the Brahmins. Like a god, he sported with Damayanti in beautiful woods and groves. They had a son, Indrasena, and a daughter, also named Indrasena. With sacrifice, marriage, and kingship flourishing, Nala ruled a land rich in wealth.
On their way back from the svayamvara, the blazing guardians of the world met Kali approaching with Dvapara. “Kali, tell me where you are going with Dvapara,” Indra said. “To Damayanti’s svayamvara,” Kali answered. “I will win her there, for my heart is set on that girl.” Indra smiled. “That svayamvara has already ended. She chose Nala as her husband before our eyes.” The news enraged Kali, the vilest of the celestials, and he turned on all the gods. “She chose a human being in the presence of the gods,” he told them. “She deserves a heavy doom.” The gods answered his accusation. “Damayanti chose Nala with our consent. What woman would fail to choose a king with all his virtues? He knows every duty and always acts rightly. He has studied the four Vedas and the Puranas, which are regarded as the fifth. He lives without harming creatures, speaks truthfully, and remains firm in his vows. In his house the gods are continually satisfied through sacrifices performed according to the proper rites. That king is like a guardian of the world himself. Truth, patience, knowledge, austerity, purity, self-control, and complete inward peace all belong to him. A fool who wishes to curse such a man curses himself, Kali. His own act will destroy him. Anyone who seeks to curse Nala, endowed with those virtues, will sink into the vast, bottomless hell filled with suffering.” Having said this to Kali and Dvapara, the gods continued to heaven. Kali spoke as soon as they were gone. “I cannot contain my anger, Dvapara. I will enter Nala and take his kingdom from him. He will never again enjoy life with Bhima’s daughter. You must help me by entering the dice.”
The gist: At the svayamvara Damayanti faces five identical figures, the four gods having taken Nala’s form, and calls on the truth of her choice. The gods reveal their divine signs (no sweat, no blinking, unfading garlands, no dust, feet above the ground), and she recognizes Nala by his human ones. They grant him eight gifts, and the couple marry and prosper in the Nishadha kingdom. Kali and Dvapara arrive too late; Kali rejects the gods’ approval of the marriage and asks Dvapara to enter the dice.
Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Vana Parva. This chapter follows K. M. Ganguli, sections LII to LXXIX; the Gita Press Hindi edition numbers these chapters differently. Names, order, and events were checked against Ganguli’s complete translation. Where the recensions differ, this English retelling follows Ganguli, and the Hindi edition follows Gita Press. Dialogue and commentary are adapted, not a verbatim translation. About the sources.
Based on: The Mahabharata, Vyasa (K. M. Ganguli’s English translation; Gita Press, Gorakhpur)