“I guess the name is a misnomer, Isn’t it? Vaikhanasa ji”, observing all around, the six year old complained.
Countless times the boy had already asked questions during this journey and now countless plus one doesn’t make much of a difference. So Vaikhanasa gently stopped rolling the small Rudraksha beads which he always carried in his right palm, but his lips continued chanting the mantras as if they were not bothered about the count he kept.
“Now what is it? Which name is a misnomer, dear? “, the ascetic paused and looked down to the little one affectionately.
“We haven’t seen a single elephant so far since we crossed the waters of Ganga Devi. Or is it that I missed any?”
“Well, we haven’t seen any…so….”, Vaikhanasa nodded in agreement.
“Then the name Hastina pura is a definite wrong choice, don’t you agree? City of elephants it seems and huh not even a baby elephant!!”
The hermit wanted to tell the kid that they are traversing through a buzzing city and elephants won’t roam around like cows, but he knew in all certainty that the boy is not gonna devour a homespun answer. He looked at the mother of the boy, searching for help, as everybody at the hermitage except Maharshi Kanva, usually does, whenever they are confronted by his intellectual acuity.
She was walking behind them so gracefully that it appeared that a tributary of river Ganga is flowing into this beautiful city. If it was not for her hermitess like apparel, people would have taken her for a Goddess walking down their streets, and would have bowed down seeking boons and blessings. Still the tree barks failed considerably in concealing her unworldly beauty; her enigmatic presence was even felt by the blind ones on the street. She took the cue from her companion Vaikhanasa’s help seeking glanceand started answering her son instantly by posing a counter question,
“My heart of hearts, tell me this: Who is the elephant headed God?”
“Gajavadana is Ganesha, Ambaaa“, quickly came the response.
“And what does his ‘Elephant Head’, stands for?”
“Obviously Buddhi, as discrimination and intellect. Isn’t it Mayya ?”
“Yes my Bala Ganeshaaa, you are right. So a city of elephants can also mean a city of intellectual people. Don’t you agree?”
“Hmm…….possible”, the eyes of the boy bloomed with the new perspective, just like a fresh lotus blossoming with the first rays of the rising sun.
“Now look at the ornamented palatial buildings you see over there. Their sky high domes do resemble the majestic head of elephants. Don’t they?”, the mother added.
“Yes, I guess”, the small head turned upwards for validation.
“So the name city of elephants could also be a literary trope to eulogize the resplendent beauty of this city”
The blossomed eyes now glistened in amazement.
“And also since this is a crowded city through where we are walking, we don’t supposedly chance upon an elephant. May be the tuskers are kept tamed near the king’s palace. So Hastinapura may not be, after all, a terribly misplaced name?”
“You are right Amba. And, you are so knowledgeable”, saying this, he hung on to his mother’s hand and swung as if it was a rope swing.
The arcade through which the trio were walking terminated into a semi palatial building. One more Mahajanapada gateway to cross and they will be at the king’s royal palace.
In front of that embellished building, a very simple clothed person, wearing a royal turban, conversed with Vaikhanasa, and then turned towards the mother and the child and addressed them: “The kingdom is matchlessly honoured by the presence of the daughter of great Sage Kanva. Undoubtedly, your mere presence will attract divine beings from all the fourteen worlds to visit this place. I also learnt from your companion Vaikhanasa that you are here to visit our Highness. I will gladly seek the permission of His Highness to arrange entry for you into his council. What name should I convey as yours, honourable lady?”
“Tell your king that Shakuntala has come!”, saying this the woman blushed with some sort of excitement.
“Sure, this humble soul will do that. Now, allow me to take leave of all. This pretty palace is built under the special instruction of our king in order for travellers to take a breather. I request you all to rest a while before you enter the Raja Sabha“, saying these words he summoned another person and instructed him to attend to the guests and then hastened away.
“Guru Puthri…… , you and the boy can take a nap. We started travelling way before the Surya Deva (sun god) started his routine westward journey and you both should be tired now. I will be outside taking a guard though I am so sure that no danger can befall us at the kingdom of Dushyanta “, said Vaikhanasa.
The king’s name sparkled a pleasing chill in her heart and holding her son she walked with the gait of a swan towards the inside of the chamber. There were separate resting places for men and women travellers. The place was neat with free flowing curtains and aesthetically carved out wooden beds and bright oil lamps. Milk and some delicious fruits cut in pieces were served on golden plates. Shakunthala was reluctant to eat but she sat and wanted to rest awhile before meeting the king while her son was very keenly beholding every tiny detail of that chamber. This is the first time he has been to any city, at all, and that exhilaration was very easily detectable on his lit up face.
She started thinking about her husband, the king of Hastinapura, Dushyanta. Without even her knowledge, thoughts swiftly carried her over to the scene when she met her love of life, for the first time. And without even her sanction, the physical body eased into some sort of slumber and in that torpid mode, she re-lived her past, once again.
It was a beautiful afternoon, in the hermitage. She was caressing a fawn and it seemed that the poor creature was a bit scared. Shakuntala lifted up its chin, stared at its long eyes and asked “What happened darling, why do you look so frightened?”
“As if you know the language of deers…..!!”, her intimate friend Priyamvada teased.
Apparently the fawn did not communicate any known languages, at least verbally. But Shakuntala stood up with an air of conviction, having got some cryptic disclosure from the small deer and surveyed around in all directions.
This time Priyamvada knew there’s something more to it.
“What happened, Shakuntala?”
She continued with her surveillance gesture “The animals are scared. A force unknown to this wilderness is hunting them”
Again stooping towards the fawn, she assured that no-one will hurt it inside this pious ashram. Having got the assurance, the poor thing stotted away.
Perhaps the cause of this threat might come here, if it is a hunter, because, who goes back without paying their respect to the great sage, my father Kanva Maharshi!
Shakuntala’s prophecy was accurate: In a short span of time, they heard the trotting sound of horses.
Another maid of hers, ran towards them and reported in an elated tone, “Dear lotus-eyed friend of mine, guess who is approaching our hermitage”
“From the footsteps sound of horses and the perfumed smell carried by the wind, I presume that it is not an ordinary person, probably someone of royal blood”
“You are right dear, it is the king of this land, Dushyanta“
“Really, then in all likelihood it could be his hunting expedition that has scared the animal life. And assuredly, I am going to ask him to stop it”
“What!! He is our King”
“And so is his duty to address the concerns of his subjects”, Shakuntala moved inside of the main hut.
Within not much time, an exhausted king entered the ashram. His Majesty listened to the vedic hymns that reverberated all around, and gently walked bathing in sacrificial smoke that filled the atmosphere. The lord of earth, Dushyanta doubted whether he had set his feet on Brahma Loka because he saw many great Rishis, powerful in their austerities and rigid in their vows.
Shakuntala was rushing towards the monarch to complain on behalf of the entire animal kingdom. In front of the thatched Yajna vedi, they both ran into each other. It was a meeting of unprecedented beauty and invincible strength. Some ancient scriptures mystically state that our prana (vital energy) has a peculiar propensity to identify past life connections even when the mind remains oblivious to it. Proving that conjecture to be absolute, both Dushyanta and Shakuntala simultaneously felt at the deepest of their beings, that they knew each other for many lives.
As soon as the love-stuck mind regained lucidity, the lotus eyed Shakuntala welcomed the king inside the straw thatched hut, offered him a kusa grass seat, gave him water to wash his feet, and fed him fruits to rejuvenate. All the complaints she prepared to vent out on him, evaporated off in the boiling heat of her heart. It didn’t matter, for equally affected was the monarch too. All the zeal he had for any further hunt is lost now, because his heart was pierced by the cursory glances of a forest beauty.
She cut the first turf and enquired him of his welfare and purpose of visit.
“I was on a hunting trip and was led astray by a quadruped. When I learned that the great Maharshi Kanva’s abode is nearby, I wanted to pay my respects to him. Oh beautiful lady, where is he, the great ascetic?”
Shakuntala smilingly replied, “You are asking about my father. He has gone out to the woods to collect fruits. You can certainly see him, if you wait till he returns”
Seeing her dazzling beauty and dignified responses, the king’s love for her deepened beyond all limits. To know more about her, he asked,
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”
Shakuntala looked down to her toes, in shyness.
“……….Who are you and who do you belong to? What are you doing in this wilderness? Do you realize that you have robbed me of my soul and now when I go back to my kingdom, alas, it will be a soul-less Dushyanta the rest of my life”
A coy smile adorned the beautiful lips of Shakuntala when she proudly said, “I am regarded as the daughter of the great ascetic Maharshi Kanva himself”.
Dushyanta thought for a second and intervened, “I don’t think that’s even possible. The sun or the moon or even the God of Dharma may change from his path, but the great souled Kanva will never change from his strict austerities and vows. It is highly improbable that he has begotten a daughter through a worldly relationship. So, correct me if I am wrong”.
Shakuntala bobbed her head and began to narrate her birth story.
“In ancient times, Rajarshi Vishwamitra did such severe austerities that Indra, the chief God of Deva loka, got scared that he would get dislodged from his throne. Precautiously he sent the most enchanting of all apsaras to turn away the sage from his austerities. The purpose was served and through that sage, I was born to the apsara Menaka. No sooner was I born, did she leave me at the banks of the river Malini and returned to Indra loka. In the solitude of that deserted forest, śakunta birds surrounded and protected me from other predators. Maharshi Kanva who visited the forest, found me thus surrounded by birds and named me Shakuntala (one protected by śakunta birds) and brought me to his hermitage. Oh king, sacred scriptures pronounce about three kinds of fathers. The one who gives a body, the one who protects and the one who gives food. Thus I became the daughter of the great Maharshi Kanva.”
Shakuntala also added that this was something which she overheard when her father Kanva was narrating her birth details to an ascetic from a different place.
“Now I know how you possess such ethereal beauty”, Dushyanta sighed as if he discovered the prime cause of her charisma.
“Apsara puthri, your looks are so adorable and your speech is so flawless. In anyways you don’t belong to a forest. Your composure and refinement demands of you, to be the royal queen of a powerful kingdom. Nonetheless I have lost my heart to you. So, marry me. Be my wife, and my entire kingdom will be yours”
“Dear king, let my father return from the forest. Once he is back, he will happily give me over to you according to the proper rites of Vivaha Dharma“
The king was impatient and so he tried to convince her, “You spoke rightly and aptly. But in accordance with Dharma itself, you can yourself give you in marriage. Haven’t you heard of the Gandharva form of marriage where it is only the mutual consent of the man and the woman, a stipulation for its sanction? There are six forms of marriage acceptable for Kshatriyas, as per the principles laid down by Dharma. So fear not, I want to make you my wife now itself and I know that you too love me. So become my wife by the Gandharva form of marriage”
Shakuntala listened carefully and replied, “Oh the lion among kings, if this form of marriage is sanctioned by Shastras, as you assert, I shall certainly give myself to you in marriage. But there is a veritable concern that I have. Won’t you clear that for me? You are a powerful king while I have no-one other than my ascetic father and nothing other than his unpretentious hermitage amidst the forest. So if you want me to be your wife, you should promise me that the son who is born to us should succeed you on the throne.”
Unhesitantly the king agreed to her condition, ” It shall be that way and I give my word truthfully. Mind you, I will also send a fourfold army to escort you to the kingdom where you will live with me thereafter”.
Having got the king’s word, according to the prescribed Dharmic rites, she married him in the Gandharva Vivaha form of marriage.
Somebody touched her feet and called her name and it was then she realized that she slipped off into a recollective dream. The lady who woke Shakuntala up seemed quite a bit frightened and startled. She screamed “Devi, your son…….” , and pointed her fingers towards the huge door of the palace.
Shakuntala hopped out in a split second not knowing what happened to her six year old. There she saw a small crowd gathering. She ran to the centre of the crowd, pushing her way through and in great solace found her son and Vaikhanasa. Utterly surprising was, there she saw a tied tiger also, stationed near them. Not to mention, the ferocious beast instigated no fear in her because she has been living in the jungle since her birth. Still confused, she enquired one among the multitude about what exactly is happening there.
“Oh what to say, venerable lady. A savage tiger cut loose from the king’s tiger husbandry and entered the capital city today morning. Everybody was running hither thither for their lives. It was then that cute little boy appeared from somewhere and confronted the tiger. People wanted to rescue the boy, but were too scared to go near the man-eater. But bewildering everyone, this boy tamed the beast and tied it. I guess he is either a divine child or a black magician at the least.”
Shakuntala amusingly smiled at the remark.
The passer by lady exclaimed, “I wonder what the name of this boy is and who his parents are”
Shakuntala slowly walked towards her son and replied mildly in a voice that could only have been heard by the lady who probed the question, “His name is Sarvadamana, oh good woman, which means the one who controls everything. Indeed he earned his name by his exceptional skill of exhibiting control over lions, tigers and other beasts of the forest. And yes, his mother is me and his father……”
Pausing a moment, she continued “His father is your king, Dushyanta.”
By the time, Sarvadamana ran towards his mother and hugged her. Vaikhanasa, a disciple of Maharshi Kanva who accompanied them, gave a hint to her to move forward towards the palace as it was time for them to meet the king. The trio walked towards the palace while the crowd behind them cheered in loud voice “Jai Sarvadamana “and so on.
In another danda (an ancient measure of time equivalent to 24 minutes), they reached the palace and there was the man whom they met earlier waiting for them. He conveyed that they can enter the Raja Sabha where the king holds his council.
Shakuntala and Sarvadamana entered the grand royal hall, while Vaikhanasa stayed outside. The king was seen bedazzling like the sun at the centre of our solar system. There were beautiful carvings and splendid wall paintings all around. Holding the little finger of the mother firmly, the boy was almost lost in the glitters around. The mother didn’t even give a careless look to any detailing of the palace; she focussedly walked towards king Dushyanta as if she saw him alone.
There were ministers, pandits and purohits and other learned men in the court: all of them were dumbstruck by the heavenly beauty of the hermitess like lady and some even doubted whether Sakshat Sri Lakshmi, the consort of Lord Mahavishnu has incarnated. When the mind ceases to function, the words wither and hence for some time, the whole place resembled a silent meditation hall. The attendees at both sides of the king were swinging fans made of feathers, which remained the only audible sound other than the footsteps of the lady and the son.
They reached the centre of the Raja Sabha. Shakuntala was staring at her husband from a distance and blood gushed into her cheeks turning them into rose apples. She expected the king to at least stand up in wonderment, if not rushing towards them to embrace his wife and son. Nothing dramatic of that sort happened and she thought mayhap the king hasn’t recognised her; it is almost a decade and our appearances would have changed, or perchance he is so much engrossed in the ruling of his land that it may take time for him to recollect incidents from his personal life even. She consoled herself and bowed down to His Highness as any other ordinary subject would have done and attempted to reintroduce herself.
For all she knows, if in so many years the king had even forgotten her, he wouldn’t by any chance forget the word that he gave. Reminding him of his promise would be the most judicious and ideal way to re-establish the memory. Contemplating thus, she spoke in a voice so sweet like honey. “Oh King, this God like boy standing alongside me is our son. Remember the promise you gave me long time back at Maharshi Kanva’s hermitage and accordingly instate him on the throne as the apparent heir”
There is a certain accredited freedom for both men and women taxpayers to raise their problems and concerns at the king’s council, but that doesn’t mean anybody can walk in and make any allegation. The assemblage was perplexed. Nobody knew the truth in her statement. Perhaps what she said is true or perhaps not! All heads were now turned at their king, whose words would be the decider.
Dushyanta did not even think for a while. In the bat of an eyelid, he responded, “Oh beautiful lady, to all appearances you are dressed like an ascetic, but indubitably you have the most evil intentions. I do not remember having any relation with you either for Dharma, Artha or Kama. But I shall not be sending you away, because your king is a person who sends nobody away even if they are vile. Hence you can either stay or go as you wish”.
Shakuntala couldn’t believe her ears. She was insulted in broad daylight, in front of a huge assembly. She felt that her legs were growing auxiliary roots into the floor of the palace room and she was becoming a motionless tree. Her eyes turned red like burning copper and the lips quivered. It took some time for her to come back to senses. Once she succeeded in collecting back her thoughts, she verbalized them as carefully as possible.
“Oh great king, even after knowing everything, how can you unconcernedly declare that you know nothing. Ask your own heart about the truth and falsity of my words. Do not degrade yourself by uttering such blatant lies! The God sitting in your heart is a witness to all your actions and words, and don’t think you can fool him. I am a faithful wife and I certainly deserve to be treated with honour. Oh Dushyanta! If you do not do what I am asking you to do then your head will splinter into a hundred thousand pieces!”
Was that a curse? The whole of spectators gave a baffling look at each other. By her looks, she is beauty manifested in human form but her words resemble the razor sharp edge of a Kshatriya sword. Least bothered about the confused expressions contracted on the faces of all who were present, Shakuntala continued,
“Have you no idea about the importance of a wife, dear king? She is a true wife who looks after the house. She is a true wife who bears the children. She is a true wife whose life is devoted to her husband. And that is why it is said that a wife is half the man! Don’t you know that the wife is the best friend one could have. Those who have wives are gr̥hastha (householders) and they can perform specific rites. A wife accompanies a man not only in all adversities of this life, but even to other lives. Oh king, it is for these reasons that man seeks marriage. It is the truth and the purity of marriage”
The council at the palace court nodded affirmatively to the wise words spoken but they did it so non perceivably lest their king should not get offended. However as if she read their assertive mental mode precisely, Shakuntala gave a quick side glance to the audience and addressed them together with the king. Scared of getting burned by the fiery glance of the insulted woman, some did not even dare to lift their heads.
“The wise says that a man is born himself as his own son and that is the reason a wife is even known as Jāyā. Therefore a man should regard the mother of his son as his own mother and respect her. Even in anger one should not voice unpleasant words to his beloved wife. And look at you, who heartlessly insults his faithful wife”.
The small boy was looking at the face of both his father and mother, not knowing what he should be doing. His mother kept her slender hand over his head and pushed him gently towards her side and said, “The greatest happiness that any father could have is the embrace of his son! Why do you frown and reject him who is glancing fondly at you? Even the smallest of animals, ants carry their eggs and do not destroy them. I hear from people that their king is a knower of Dharma, but here I am confused by your untruthful words. Won’t you support your own son? Look at the face of your son and don’t you see your own reflection. It is like the Ahavaniya fire kindled from Garhapatya fire”
There were murmurings from the crowd, “Yes the boy’s face even resembles the face of our king” etc.
The king was turning restless which was palpable from his body gestures. Through words of profound wisdom and penetrative sharpness, a woman had gained support of his own council members and followers.
In another attempt to make him recollect the earlier incidents, Shakuntala again narrated her sad plight, “In earlier times Your Highness was led away by a deer during a hunting expedition and you reached the hermitage where I live and you approached me to become your wife. I am born from the supreme apsara Menaka and the king turned ascetic Maharshi Vishwamitra. After my birth itself, I was abandoned by my mother, in a forest, may be as a result of some heinous crimes which I committed in an earlier life, I know not! Now as if the same fate is chasing me like my shadow, you are also forsaking me, for reasons that I know not!! I am ready to accept my stars and go back to my hermitage, but please don’t forsake this son of yours”
This time, the king stood up from his ivory throne and lifting his hands adorned with golden bracelets and armlets, responded back harshly.
“Shakuntala, I do not know whether this son of yours is mine. Who will believe you? You claim yourself to be the daughter of Menaka who mercilessly abandoned you in Himalaya. Equally merciless is your father Vishwamitra, who having born in a Kshatriya lineage became a Brahmin out of lust and desire alone. Now even if Menaka is considered as best among Apsaras and Vishwamitra is considered as best of all Maharshis, you do not display the quality of either. You speak like a harlot and throw out words of disrespect, in the presence of the king and other learned wise men. You are truly wicked. Whatever you said is unknown to me and I do not know you. So without wasting more time, go away?”
Even the strongest of men would have broken down beneath such a downpour of insults. She did not! Even without having the faintest clue about the truth, the crowd mentally sided with the woman and the child. Some even prayed that she get the strength to hold on and not to shed tears because they thought that her tears could destroy the entire kingdom.
However, amidst all these, she stood like a wild fire that cannot be turned down even by a hurricane. The truth was that underneath the impregnable strength she displayed, she was hurt beyond imagination. Calling the king by name, she responded, “Oh Dushyanta, you speak about the quality of birth; well, my birth is nobler than yours. While you are established on earth, I can roam about in skies too since I am born of an Apsara. If you are like a mustard seed, I am like mount Meru. The difference between us is so huge. Behold and understand my powers. I can even travel to the lands of Indra, Kubera, Varuna and Yama, while your permissible dominion is only the land of mortals”.
She held Sarvadamana closely and continued,
“A man who has begotten a son like himself but does not accept him, doesn’t attain the superior worlds. The son establishes the family and the lineage and are like boats of Dharma that navigate the ancestors to higher worlds. Oh tiger among the kings, so please don’t forsake your son. Haven’t you heard that a pond is better than a hundred wells; a Yajna is better than a hundred ponds and a Son is better than a hundred such Yajnas. But you should bear one thing in mind, dear king, that Truth is even better than a hundred sons. Truth is equal to studying all Vedas and taking a holy dip in all Thirthas. Oh king, there is no Dharma higher than the Truth and nothing is superior to it. No evil is fiercer than telling lies. Truth is the supreme Brahman and Truth is the greatest vow”
Listening to this, everybody in that Raja Sabha stood up raising their arms in praise and at that instant, like a thunder that stuck the Sabha, she spoke again.
“Therefore O king, do not violate your oath. Be bold and stand along with Truth. However, if you still do not believe me, then I shall go away. A relationship with one like you should never be sought after.”
She started walking away while all others and Dushyanta stood breathless and she turned back only to announce in a tone of highest authoritativeness.
“Remember Oh Dushyanta, when you are dead, my son will rule over the entire earth, crowned by the king of mountains and surrounded by oceans in four directions”
Then she continued walking towards the entrance as if nothing had happened. Frozen in time, everything and everybody else stood motionless and then suddenly a sound was heard from the skies. Dushyanta, his ministers, purohits, rajagurus, army generals and every other person in that court looked up instantaneously, but it was a formless voice. The voice echoed,
“Oh Dushyanta, Shakuntala has spoken the Truth. Born from the father, the son is the father himself. Therefore protect and cherish this great souled son of Dushyanta and Shakuntala. Since you will maintain this son because of these words, he will be henceforth known as Bharata, (meaning – maintaining)”
The King of the Puru lineage was very delighted to hear this and he addressed his ministers, preceptors and others demanding he already knew the truth, but if he had accepted them directly, then people would still have had suspicion. Now there is no chance of a suspicion since the Voice of Gods were heard approving the Truth.
In no time he ran towards Shakuntala and Sarvadamana and hugged them together. He accepted his wife according to the rites of Dharma and pacified her, “Oh sweet lady, though I remember exactly what happened, my union with you was not known to my people. That is why I argued with you, in order to clear you of the suspicion that would have arised in people’s mind. Please accept my immense love for you.”
Dushyanta then honoured her with new royal garments, food and drink and instated Shakuntala’s son as the heir apparent and conferred the name “Bharata” upon him.
Epilogue
Many of us would know that our Nation Bhāratavarṣa derived its name from the name of this powerful emperor Bharata who succeeded Dushyanta on the throne. We as proud inhabitants of this blessed land, owe it to him. But, time and again we forget that we owe it to the mothers of such heroes too. Each Bharata was made out of the strength and sacrifice of many Shakuntalas. Shakuntala is in fact a representation of the sublime beauty of womanhood. She is the representation of the earth like patience of womanhood. And she is the representation of the subtle strength of womanhood. In essence, she is an accurate portrayal of “A woman of Substance”
Author Profile:
Shri. Rupesh Kalesan currently serves as Asst. Professor at Amrita Darshanam (International Centre for Spiritual Studies), Amritapuri campus. He holds a post graduation in “Thermal and Fluid Engineering”. Passionate about India and Her culture, he has been teaching various subjects related to Indian Culture and History for the last 12 years. He has presented research papers in various academic conferences and has also contributed articles for newspapers, online media and magazines. Heading the youth wing of Amrita, AYUDH Amritapuri (Awaken Youth Unite for Dharma), he has mentored and directed many youngsters towards social, national and cultural commitment during the last couple of years. Has been a trainer in the Youth Empowerment program ‘Sadgamaya’ for 7 years and also has conducted sessions on ‘Vedic Mathematics’ at Amritapuri and Mysore. Principal areas of interest are Itihasas, Indian contribution in Mathematics, Vedic Mathematics, Soundarya Lahiri, Cultural traditions etc.
Disclaimer : This article belongs to the author in full, including opinions and insights. Amrita University is not responsible or liable for the information contained in this article, or its implications therein
