Prem Purana

by Usha Narayanan

  ‘My king leaves me with no time to recite the scriptures!’ Damayanti complained to her maids. ‘When do I practise my singing or play the lute when he demands my constant presence?’ And then she cast a restless glance at the doorway, the hundredth in the last hour, wondering why Nala had not come to her as yet. What was keeping him away still, her jaunty king? Was there anything more important than making his queen feel cherished and adored?

  Nala came to her just then, with impatient stride, leaving the affairs of state half-done. He had seen her sparkling face and her perfumed body in his mind’s eye and had grown feverish from want of her. The whole world reeled dizzily around him and nothing was real except his queen. She glanced up again and saw him coming, stumbling in his haste, but pretended to be busy with her maids. He shifted from foot to foot and tried to snare her glance with his adoring look. Finally she deigned to look up at him, but only to fight, argue, question, sulk. . . until their glances mingled and their silly quarrel broke down in smiles and fervent embraces. Her breasts were crushed against his hard body, the robe she wore melted away. Her dark hair grew disordered, the sandal paste on her face was smeared and an emerald earring fell unheeded on the satin bedspread. ‘Stop that, you thief!’ she whispered as he stole kisses from her swollen lips, while urging him on with her fevered response.

  ‘This is amrit!’ he exclaimed, drunk with love. ‘Can the nectar churned from the oceans by the foolish gods ever match the sweetness of your lips?’ Damayanti melted at his touch, merged with his heart and dissolved into nothing. Was she asleep or dead?

  Oh, she hated the morning when her sakhis came to wake them with urgent messages of visiting kings and sages. Nala reluctantly rose and walked away, casting yearning glances at her flushed, sleep-warmed face. Then her friends pounced on her with giggles, asking her where she had lost the ruby anklets she always wore. How could she tell them that her king had thrown them away, complaining that their tinkling revealed to the world that they were sleepless and engaged in love play? ‘Where are your bracelets, glittering with gems and pearls?’ they asked then. Damayanti dropped her eyes and blushed, unwilling to tell them that she had tossed them aside to don the armlets that Nala had woven for her with tender lotus shoots.

  Every moment with him was precious. He hardly allowed her to sleep but she glowed like a pearl regardless. Hadn’t the gods said that his touch would keep the flowers fresh? And she was the finest of blossoms, her body gleaming brighter with his every touch. When they spoke, it was not about the gods who had raised their voices at them in anger or about the blessings they had later showered on them. It was Kama, the god of love, who presided over their hearts as the queen invited her Nala closer, ever closer, with a half-smile, a rose-tipped finger run slowly over lush lips, and an extra sway of her slim hips. She revived her beloved king when he came to her, parched and wilting, needing a draught of refreshing wine from her soft mouth.

  Gagana returned to earth again from his celestial abode, his golden plumes shimmering in the sunlight. He came to Nala’s palace, eager to relish the fruits of his matchmaking. The princess showered kisses on his head and hugged him close in thanksgiving. Soon he was roaming freely in her boudoir and the gardens, telling everyone he saw that he had brought Damayanti and Nala together with his wiles and ploys. Nala too offered him a grand welcome and fed him with choice morsels from his own hands. He gave the swan a royal seat beside him on the dais, lined with soft cushions so that he could watch over the proceedings.

  Gagana preened under all this attention and told the radiant couple that he would soon bring his wife and children to visit them. Damayanti designed a charming ruby crown for their winged visitor and he pranced around proudly, never tiring of telling the story of how he had chosen Nala to be her husband in the place of Indra. With every telling, the little rogue’s role grew and grew until it became more fanciful than true. Soon Gagana was describing how he had fought off the gods and kings and fled with Nala and his bride, dodging a shower of arrows! The golden-winged bird became the beloved of the court dancers and he in turn gave them lessons on how to walk like he did. ‘After all, a hamsa is the most graceful of creations on heaven or earth!’ he declared.

  It soon became a common sight to see the swan strutting ahead, chattering endlessly, followed by a giggling throng of young girls with ivory skin and hair as black as a raven’s feathers.

  Such bliss, such joy! The king and Damayanti revelled in their love, and their happiness was complete when in due course they were blessed with two perfect children—Indrasen and Indrasena.

  But there was one man whose soul was filled with hatred. Nala’s younger brother Pushkara was as malevolent as Nala was kind, as dissolute as his brother was virtuous. Pushkara was idle and extravagant and spent his days in gambling and dissipation. His heart was riven by lust when he saw his brother return with the fair princess. His fierce ambition to inherit the royal mantle if Nala did not marry was destroyed in that moment. His was the wicked heart that the demon Kali hoped to exploit in order to poison Nala’s blissful life. But the king remained unaware of the evil that stalked him . . .

  4

  The Roll of the Dice

  Twelve years passed, a period of unalloyed joy. But then, things changed. Nala had grown complacent, puffed up by all the adulation he received from his subjects and from visitors to his kingdom. He grew careless in state affairs and his piety dwindled. One day, when he neglected to wash his feet before his evening prayers, Kali, the source of all that is impure, entered the king’s body and took possession of his soul. Nala’s downfall seemed to be inevitable now. His ministers, taking their cue from him, grew indifferent to the people’s welfare. The rains were scanty that year, and as the ruler did little to help his citizens, famine and hunger began to haunt the land. Even the horses in the royal stables grew dispirited, affected by their king’s disregard. The troops in the army were not paid their dues and grew mutinous. The rich oppressed the poor and decadent men preyed on the powerless. Sinners grew in number and offerings to the ancestors and to the deities were no longer made as before.

  Soon, the turmoil on earth spread to the heavens and meteors fell blazing to the earth. The sun appeared dim, surrounded by dreadful shadows. Indra’s thunderbolt spat out flames, and the weapons of the other gods began to attack one another. The devas’ power diminished and their garlands began to fade.

  Indra, the god who had performed a thousand yagnas, was troubled and asked his guru Brihaspati, ‘What danger threatens us, wise one? I see no enemy at our gates, but all the omens predict disaster.’

  Kali appeared before him then, a devilish gleam in his eyes. ‘Is it seemly for the gods to be so fearful?’ he scoffed. ‘Great Indra, you blessed King Nala and allied with him in the war between virtue and sin. Alas, he is now fallen and I will soon destroy him and all that he represents—love, compassion and righteousness. Stop me if you can!’ Having uttered the challenge, Kali vanished from Indra’s court to return to earth and continue his campaign of evil.

  The demon entered the mansion of Pushkara, whose jealousy had grown over the years as he watched his brother prosper, secure in the love of the matchless Damayanti. Now that the two had a son and daughter as heirs, Pushkara knew that he had no chance to inherit the throne.

  Kali cleverly played on the greed and ambition of the younger brother. ‘You deserve to enjoy all power and pomp as the king,’ he said to Pushkara. ‘It should be you who rules Nishada and enjoys Damayanti’s voluptuous charms in bed! All this can be yours still if you listen to my plan, Pushkara. Invite Nala to a game of dice and I will take care of the rest.’

  Was this possible? Could the honey-tongued queen fall into his hands so easily? Pushkara leered, his jaded appetite reviving at the thought of having the queen in his bed. He hurried to Nala’s palace and professed the deepest affection and regard for him. ‘You are so skilled, dear brother, in everything you attempt,’ he said. ‘No man or god can match your expertise with horses, w
omen or even at the game of dice. Let us play together, you and I, and spend a pleasant evening trying our luck!’

  Nala knew in his heart that gambling was a vice and that a king should set an example by shunning these games. But he was secretly tempted to play, convinced by his brother’s fulsome praise that he could not be beaten in anything, including the game of dice. After all, there was no harm in playing when he was certain of winning. Thoughts of how Damayanti would react crossed his mind, but then he told himself that he was the king, not she. What did a woman know about the pastimes of kings? Seeing him weakening, Pushkara coaxed his brother, telling him that it was only a friendly game after all. Nala nodded and the gaming table was set out and they began casting the dice. The first few throws favoured Nala, encouraging him to make bigger wagers, confident that he would win. His brother plied him with drink and waited for Kali to make good his promise.

  Seeing that Nala was fully caught up in the game, Kali signalled to Dwapara, his wicked companion, to enter the dice and control the way it rolled. The lamps flickered. Nala’s loyal steeds in the stable whinnied and stirred restlessly. An owl hooted plaintively somewhere inside the palace. A shadow passed over Nala’s face as he felt a deep unease stir in his heart. But he continued playing, his ego refusing to let him accept defeat.

  Now Nala began to lose at every throw. He staked piles of gold and silver and lost them. He wagered precious jewels, then his horses and his elephants. He lost them all, one after the other. His ministers whispered in his ear, begging him to stop. But Nala’s intellect was clouded by the influence of Kali and he continued to play, foolishly hoping that the next roll would reverse his fortune. Hearing of their king’s rash gambling, his people gathered worriedly at the gates, fearful of where it would all end. A maid hurried to convey the news to Damayanti who was playing with her children in her chamber. She rushed at once to her husband’s side and advised him with wise words to leave the gaming table.

  Realizing the danger of Nala abandoning the game, Dwapara allowed fortune to turn in his favour. And the king returned with increased fervour to his gambling, believing that he could win everything back. Alas, that was not to happen, as the odds turned again and his losses mounted.

  Now, Nala would listen to no one, not even his loving wife. Distraught and discouraged, Damayanti returned to her chambers, summoned their charioteer Varshneya and asked him to take her children to Kundinapur along with a letter to her father, King Bhima. In this she spoke of Nala’s gambling and her fears for her children’s safety if the game were to end in disaster. Varshneya did as he was bid, taking Indrasen and Indrasena to their grandfather’s court. He then went his way mournfully, finally seeking employment with King Rituparna of Ayodhya.

  Held in thrall by Kali, Nala rashly put his country at stake, his eyes glazed with the gambling fever. Nothing mattered to him now, not his position, not his wife and children, not his countrymen. He soon lost his kingdom and everything he owned—all but his radiant queen. Pushkara, his heart burning with lust, stopped Nala when he was about to leave the gaming table, aghast at the extent of his defeat. ‘Where are you going, brother?’ mocked Pushkara. ‘You still have a beautiful wife to stake. Let us play for Damayanti. If you win, you can take back everything you have lost so far!’

  Kali exerted all his influence on Nala in an attempt to force him to accept this final humiliation. Would the unlucky king succumb to the lure? The courtiers watched in despair and the ministers in terror. Damayanti, who had rushed back to witness the final stages of the game, stood petrified in fear, wondering if destiny would make her a slave to the beastly king. ‘I will die sooner than be forced into his bed!’ she resolved, watching with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Nala glared at his brother, his pride touched to the quick. His heart smote him with remorse. He had fallen so low that his vile brother imagined that he would sacrifice the princess he had sworn to protect! Torn between rage and anguish, Nala stripped off his glittering bracelets, necklaces and rings and flung them on the gaming board. He shed his rich robes and turned from his court, his courtiers and the splendours of royal life.

  Angered by his disdain, thwarted in his desire to lay hands on Damayanti, Pushkara shouted abuses at him. ‘Pauper, beggar, fool!’ he called after his brother. ‘Leave my kingdom and flee to the forest! I warn you that if my men should find you anywhere, they will kill you and throw your flesh to the vultures.’ Pushkara turned fierce eyes to the assembled throng and threatened them as well. ‘Anyone who provides shelter or food to Nala and his wife will face my wrath. I will have you mercilessly flogged and hanged at the city gates.’

  Humiliated and heartsick, Nala left his domain, his head hanging low, his eyes red with grief. Behind him walked Damayanti, clad now in a simple sari, resolved to share in her husband’s sorrow as she had in his joy. Plodding on wearily, they travelled to the limits of the city, shunned by their people who were not only afraid of Pushkara’s warning but were also scornful of a king who had so foolishly gambled his kingdom away. Even Nala’s old friends were afraid to offer shelter, fearing the malice of the cruel Pushkara.

  The exiled king and queen entered the forest outside the city and wandered without direction or purpose, trying to survive on fruits, berries and water from ponds. Tortured by pangs of hunger, Nala attempted to capture a bird pecking at the ground by throwing his loin cloth over it. But the bird flew into the air carrying away his single garment. ‘I am Dwapara, who controlled the dice and made you lose your kingdom,’ he said. ‘It irked Kali and me that you should be left with even this one piece of cloth!’

  Can I sink any lower? thought Nala in anguish. Standing alone and naked in the wilderness, Nala turned to his wife and said, ‘Alas, precious queen, your husband has been reduced to penury due to his folly and must pay the price for his sins. But you do not deserve to suffer when you are without fault, except for choosing me as your husband. I beg you, therefore, to take this path leading to Vidarbha and return to the life that you are accustomed to. Forgive me if you can and pray that I should meet an early death, for a life such as this is demeaning to any honest man.’

  Damayanti reached out to grip his shaking shoulders. ‘O king—for you will be king and husband to me, whatever your condition, however poor you may be—there is little comfort I can offer you except to reiterate my love and loyalty. My heart bleeds for you but my eyes remain dry as I have no more tears to shed, parched as we are, travelling under the harsh sun. However, I must contest your words and what they imply. How could you think that I would leave you alone in the jungle, forlorn and friendless, fatigued and faint from hunger? If you think it wise that I should seek shelter in my father’s kingdom, I beg you to accompany me. Let us go to him together and seek his support to win back your lost fame and fortune.’

  Nala sank down on the rocky ground and buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up at her with such anguish that her tears began to flow again.

  ‘What is it, my king? Did I wound you in some way with my words?’ Damayanti asked, sitting beside her husband and cradling him in her arms.

  ‘How could I, who swore to protect you with my powerful arms, go now before your father as a supplicant?’ he asked. ‘Look at me now as I sit here without even a cloth to cover my nakedness. Do you not think that your father and your people will scoff to see me thus? Will they not chastise you for choosing me over the lords of thunder and fire? Leave me, dear one. Leave me to my fate—whether to live or die in the wilderness.’

  They sat together awhile, united in misery, and then rose to continue their wandering again. Nala repeated his arguments over and over but Damayanti shook her head each time, telling him that she would never leave him as long as there was breath in her body. Finally, when night fell, the two lay down to rest under a spreading banyan tree, with its root for their pillow and the hard earth for their bed. Damayanti fell into an exhausted sleep. But Nala, tormented by guilt and by Kali’s presence within his body, was unable to rest.
He sat up and looked down at Damayanti’s tear-stained face, her body shrouded in dust and torn by brambles. Should I leave her now while she sleeps? he wondered. She would not leave him of her own will, but if she woke up alone, she would have no choice but to make her way to Vidarbha, seeking solace with the family that awaited her there. Her virtue would protect her from danger and her grace and demeanour would proclaim to the world that she was high-born.

  Nala carefully tore off a piece of her sari to wrap around himself and rose from her side. He stepped away from her, propelled by Kali’s evil influence. Then his love forced him back to her again and he gazed piteously down upon her innocent face. What a monster he had been to reduce her to this sorry plight! She would suffer terribly when she realized that her heartless husband had abandoned her in the perilous forest.

  Soon, however, Kali pulled him away from Damayanti, for the demon was jealous still that Nala should possess the princess whom he coveted himself. Nala left, only to return again, his love reminding him that he had sworn never to leave her.

  Finally, Nala became convinced that she would have a chance at happiness only if he left her. He was cursed, and if she stayed with him she too would be destroyed. The gods themselves had courted her and perhaps they would come to her help when he removed himself. He fell to his knees and kissed her on her forehead and on her cheek. He whispered a silent farewell. ‘I must part from you, my love. You are faultless, unswerving in your loyalty, readily giving up the comforts of the palace in order to follow me into exile. The harsh wind and sun assault your soft skin and yet you struggle bravely on, disregarding hunger and thirst. I release you now from our vows so that you may go in peace to your father. May the forest spirits safeguard you. May Indra, Agni and Varuna protect you.’ He rose to his feet and walked away, not looking back lest his heart should prove to be his undoing.