May there be no hindrance!

The supreme truth that flows from flavless aesthetic experience is brought to fulfilment by the existence of the poet. Absorbed in meditation, he finds harmony in the innermost part of his mind through unity with the rapturous beauty of the Lotus of Non-duality, And gives it visible form* in a kakavin, arranging it in lines, as the essence in the grooves [of the writing board] of the temple he builds with tendrils of beauty. Indeed, it is the subtle form of the spell which renders invisible the rising of love* and finally becomes inconceivable formlessness.

For if the deity is praised according to the prescriptions, He becomes embodied in the beauty of sea and mountain. Clearly He merges with them, vanishing without trace into nothingness, inspiring the poetic sentiments that reach the ear. When the point of the stylus is completely worn away in the letters which form the black marks* on the writing board, In this way he, who in performing his act of worship, falls at His feet, frames his first praises.*

Now I am enraptured, suddenly burdened with the desire to compose a poem* in homage to Beauty. But how can I possibly succeed? It can only bring great trouble. How can it be considered apposite?* For so deeply does the rumbling of the clouds stir me that I am compelled to take up writing board and stylus, Not cowering before the ignorance in my heart, but shamelessly and recklessly, longing only for skilfulness.

When I ponder the evil nature of my fruitless existence, how cruel it seems. What can bring me contentment? Because wickedness is ever-present, filling me with sorrow, I have renounced the hope of ever being free of it. I secretly conceal my bewilderment and confusion, for there is no one to whom I can cry out for help, as I encounter the disfavour of fate. I want only to flee and dwell in a forest hermitage. There, alone, I may find peace.

For any who seek such an end to wretchedness, there is the example* of the noble Arjuna, Who, when Dropadī was together with Yudhiṣṭhira, entered the inner chamber. This deed caused him such anguish that he, too, wanted nothing more than to go away and dwell in the forest, And seeking leave of the king, received his blessing before departing.

The next morning, just as the rising sun shone forth in the eastern sky, the prince made ready. Having completed his devotions, he then went out of the city, His only companions his arrows, bow and armour, for these were the excellent weapons he bore, As is in accordance with the code of the warrior and is the way of those who seek to serve the world through valour.

As he journeyed swiftly and without hindrance away from the kingdom, he was welcomed* by the beauties of nature. He came upon many splendid gardens on the outskirts of the palace. The trees, wrapped in mist, seemed to weep sorrowfully, as they cried aloud in their grief,* overwhelmed with longing. The young leaves of the beautiful sugar palms hung down in profusion, spreading outwards as if sighing with longing, giving free rein to their flowing tears.

The prince continued on his way, journeying further and further from the town. When he looked back, the place he had left behind had a dismal appearance and seemed despondent. Without lustre, dejectedly hiding its charms, it seemed to want to keep itself hidden under a veil of grey. The glow of the half-risen sun was a red haze, like the bright glance of a girl dulled by yearning.

Furthermore, the beauty along the delightful path he travelled, was the beauty of spring-time. Their freshness fading*, becoming limp, the tree branches tossed feverishly in the wind, Their rustling, the sighing plaint of a lover’s grief, their love for him unrequited. Their flowers, hanging down in abundance, fell to the ground all withered and lay scattered everywhere.

There was* a young banyan tree and a number of fig trees rising on high, as well as prih and bulu trees. Everywhere, pecking birds thronged together, while yet others came flying through the air, darting to and fro amongst the trees. The mynah birds pretended to tease the parrots that joined them and drew near them respectfully. The voice of the kuwong sounded tremulously and was answered by the walik, lamenting that it had been abandoned by its mate, the cucur.

He arrived at the outlying districts where, in the fields on the mountain-slopes, Herders were tending their cattle, resting peacefully there, where land had been cleared for fields along the mountain ridges. Others were milking cows, for, since time immemorial, milk had been the produce that they took in homage to the palace At Indraprastha. Indeed, it is well known that this had always been their tribute and their prescribed duty.*

A rain-filled cloud had just loosed its rain, sprinkling it down on the settlements in the ravines. Little by little, the breeze drove away the mist, leaving behind only the glow of the sun. The love-sick cātaka bird became so steeped in melancholy, as the clouds dispersed and went away to the beauty of the hills, That it moved the prince to join with it, in looking dejectedly at the sky.

Unhurriedly, he travelled on, passing by the forest pavilions. The many hermitages and holy places he came upon were, in his view, all magnificent, As indeed were all the religious abodes, foundations, monasteries and fine temples, quite splendid. Some time later, as the sun was setting, he came to the River Saraswatī.

Truly spotless were its excellent and sacred waters used as the means of purification in these forest hermitages. Moreover, within the enclosing walls of the artificial ponds they had formed a shallow madraka lake* that was without fault. Its beautiful inlets formed a sculpted perimeter,* presenting to the beholder a vast array of lotus blossoms. As proof that its deep waters were without defect, they seemed to proclaim its perfection.

The prince's heart was filled with delight as he looked at the beauty of the great river. Reminiscent of the charms of the tossing ocean was the rippling of the water, lapping and billowing. A breeze gently touching them and lifting them into flashes of light, The waves danced gaily, full of joy at meeting the noble Arjuna.

White swans glided here and there in the middle of the river* seeming to wander in pursuit of beauty. Charmed, they listened intently to the buzzing of the bees, gaily courting [the flowers]. As if to tell them of the purity of the river, the wind held them captive, teasing them, tossing and turning them from side to side, But they just continued bathing, quite indifferent to the profusion of lotuses there, where they were wading.

Across the pond in the shallow water, moving with studied grace,* A duck and its mate moved off whispering endearments to each other. They stayed there among the lotuses, happy in their love-making, causing a shower of pollen* to fall. How sad* that the blue lotuses, shaken to and fro, were crushed by their beating wings.

The green banks seemed to have been beautifully adorned and ornamented With moss,* which looked as though it had been scratched and seemed, appropriately, to imitate a dusting of powder, And, like the shaved eyebrows of a beautiful girl, clearly aroused desire, While the pakis əndah fern in the water was like fragrant musk,* its perfume melting* away.

Bees flew in circles in search of virgin delights in the entrancing beauty of the lotus. Eagerly swarming to and fro, going longingly from flower to flower* to caress them, brushed gently by the pollen. Their buzzing was like thunder in the fourth month, and their tender cries of victory were as gentle and graceful As the murmuring of sacred syllables, their gift of homage to the prince, to bring him constant delight.*

So he descended there, to wash his face and rinse his mouth in the ritual worship of the sun. His weariness vanished and when he had completed his devotions, his heart became all the more tranquil. Thereupon, he arose from the water, and again gave himself up to enjoyment, lying on a flat rock, And with delight, observed the shrimps that hid themselves behind the rocks and peeked out enticingly.*

Amused he watched the pingul-fish* playing far out in the water. They teased each other, darting so swiftly back and forth that some sought shelter* under the rocks. There was great confusion in the river when, with great caution, the timid catfish came out, one after the other, But then, startled, dashed for cover* into the marsh-land as the birds swooped down on them.

Even more enchanting was the wondrous mountain stream, which seemed to merge* into the sky, And, in the setting sun, with wilted flowers scattered on the rippling water, It took on* the beauty of embroidered cloth, like a blanket of brilliant stars, And seemed to make a perfect flower obeisance, as if to say this is our offering* to you - or so he thought.

And the brightness of the aśoka,* asana and bāṇa flowers paled in the reflected light along the river-banks. The charms of the honey trees* faded and dimmed as their flower buds* were swept away,* Thinking only of how delightful it would be, never losing hope* that they might be sought out as the flower-ornaments* of lovers happening by. At peace, now that the bees had abandoned them and no longer sipped their perfume, they waited to fall.

In all its beauty, it was a perfect bower for lovers to worship at the shrine of the pleasures of love. There were tañjung flowers, poignantly casting the message of the hidden perfume of their petals on the wind,* Giving forth such delightful fragrance that the blossoming śikhari could do nothing but seek cover behind the wungū. Moreover,* arching over, flowers unfurled, they stood ready to watch over those tormented by pangs of love.

Even as the sun began to set and the beauty of that place became dim and melancholy, still it was enchanting. It seemed a pity that no poet came wandering by on his journey, to tell of its charms on his writing board. When lo, a peacock appeared and stopped to rest there, for all the world like just such a wanderer in pursuit of beauty, So aptly storing in its poetic cries the delights of the Saraswatī River.

With tranquil mind [Arjuna] lost himself in contemplation, as, preparing for what lay ahead,* he pondered thus: ‘Successful are they who attain freedom from passion and think only of the ultimate goal of becoming a supreme sage. Yet because of the extent of the ten senses,* crushing the innermost recesses of the heart,* subjecting it to their will, Meditation on Śiwa is destroyed and annihilated and there is the risk that passion and darkness* will rise up.

‘Only excellence of mind should be practised in order to reach the essence of existence. Clearly it is like the wheel of a chariot, which, if loosened, has no purpose at all. For the true nature of corporeal existence is nothing less than offering oneself up in sacrifice through excellent meritorious deeds. And so, clearly, in this life, the best course is to be willing to face the arduous task* of living virtuously.’

This was the essence of his reflections on mastering the injunctions of the holy seers. As if in confusion the heart, subject as it is to the ten senses, turns this way and that, in every direction, when meditating. Disunity of mind then allows troubles to enter and brings aversion to the innermost secrets of meditation. And so, soothed by the rumbling voice of the kuwong, he then fell silent.

In the late afternoon he set off again, With his heart firmly fixed on his goal of reaching the Himālaya mountains. And as his journey took him to the east, effortlessly, along a flat valley road, He was entranced at the sight of the birds, flying in formation, then vanishing from sight.

The faint fragrance of the forest flowers* wafting in the breeze, was delightful. His heart aflutter,* he hearkened to the buzzing of the bees. To him, their murmurs were the whisperings of those who know love for the first time, And the intermittent cries of the magnificent peacocks delighted him.

From* clusters of forest flowers, fragrance spread like falling rain, As the gentle breeze hunted them out, enhancing their radiant beauty. Flowers lay scattered, some like fallen arrows,* others intertwined In the thickets of luruk-luruk, like flowers in a hair-knot.*

In the heat, the suḍa,* its creepers unfurling, wilted too, sad and downcast. A profusion of katirah hung down, its aerial shoots* throwing themselves to the ground,* moving to and fro imploringly. Pakis haji ferns shook and in frenzied longing hid themselves away, While wəlas-harəp creepers formed a concealing curtain for a lover’s retreat.

The buds of the mangunəng creeper* hung limply and seemed dull as the sun’s rays beat down on them. Weary, sighing plaintively, their supple boughs bending low without strength, they waited for the thunder. Huddled in their sheaths, the gəsing bamboos rustled in the awesome grip of passion, Restive, as the prabhu sanmata enclosed them in its soft embrace.

The dense thickets were hidden from view* under a tangle of fearful creepers, That hung upside down, covering* the pendant halikukun, unfurling there. The kayən trees which rose up in the valleys, burst into blossom and held themselves in readiness. In the stillness, a cəb luput bird opened wide its eyes, as a mouse scuttled by.

Let us pass over the time when the prince wound his way through the forest. Here he traversed a deep water-course, there ravines and rugged mountains, difficult of access,* But he was content as he sought his destination – the source of that river of flawless purity, And there, in a welcoming hermitage, he found shelter for the night.*

Faithful to his [vow] of striving for detachment,* the prince again sought solitude, The wooded hills* his sole companions as he travelled on. And they, determined to receive him with joy as an honoured guest, offered their many fruits to him. While, nearby, a splendid waterfall readied itself to be his holy bathing place.

He came at last to the Hima mountain, with its splendid settlements. It was as resplendent as the abode of the gods in the glow of the setting sun. White clouds enshrouded it like magnificent battlements, And it seemed to have exchanged its beauty* for that of the heavens.

The beautiful mountain scenery seemed to be in restless motion. As if calling to him, the casurinas rustled, tossing and turning in the wind. Waiting expectantly, the dancing branches* whispered, Their graceful, overhanging shoots ever reaching out to him.

On the densely-forested slopes were gardens, All the more beautiful for they were shafted with bands* of golden sunlight. With infinite care, they had adorned themselves delightfully with flowers, their blossoms agleam, And seemed to have decorated themselves for joy that Arjuna, the son of Pāṇḍu, was visiting* there.

On reflection, it seemed the forest had prepared a welcome for its guest: The gift it offered was the profusion of blossoming flowers so beautifully spread before him. With wavering fronds* and red petals, the flame trees, Like lips eagerly seeking pleasure, awaited him.

With its many valleys, it was as grand and idyllic as the Nandana grove.* Its delightful caves, quite extraordinary in their perfection, were its ornaments. Among its trees of many kinds were the heavenly coral-trees,* fresh and blossoming, With a canopy of trailing,* leafy fronds unfurling.

A river flowed delightfully into the crevices of the craggy peaks. Streams spouted from the rocks, forming a pond like a small sea. The rock face was of such brilliance that it challenged the beauty of the ocean, With scattered, flowering pandanus draped* everywhere over its lovely stones.

Pārtha’s heart was captivated as he climbed higher and higher up Mount Hima. He became ever more amazed as he gazed upon its celestial beauty. It towered over the realm of the Bhāratas, Looking down on the steep valleys of the eastern mountain with its one hundred holy bathing pools.

Over a ravine so deep and impenetrable* that it was lost to view, clouds gathered, To merge into its gleaming sulphur, caressing it, veiling it, Forming a bright shining halo of light,* Pregnant with the soft rain that is always betokened* by the voice of the thunder.

A gleam of water marked the location of the spotless river.* Indeed here was the ‘Gateway of the Ganges’,* guarding the secret of its purity. ‘I will go* there’, he thought, and set off, making his way down Along a narrow, rugged path, strewn with boulders, through the sharp and jagged ravines.

So arduous was it, that it hardly seemed possible a mere mortal could penetrate its depths and reach the bottom, Unless he were a perfect sage or an excellent priest who had put aside worldly concerns.* Thus it was proof of the true excellence of this son of Pāṇḍu, That, engaged as he was in striving for the welfare of the world, he came there with ease.

And so it was that Pārtha came there to that remote river,* And beheld the well-spring of the River Ganges, utterly flawless and without stain, Flowing from a fissure in its unfathomable depths, its eddying waters gushed forth, Like the emanation of the moon, giving life to all the world.

On reaching it, the prince was filled with great peace,* As he gazed upon the clear water of the Ganges, the water of life, For indeed it was ever the means to assuage the despairing heart. Descending to the source* of holy water, he bathed in its waters and purified himself.

Thus Pārtha came to those sacred waters.* As he immersed himself in the waters of the source of that river, possessed of sanctifying power. Its full-flowing waters truly cleansed his mind, As he recited incantations and performed his devotions.

He concentrated his mind on the immaterial presence of Śiwa,* Arising from the eight-petalled lotus, and firmly established* in the river. The essence of the sun* was invoked into the firmament, As, absorbed* in meditation, he became one in union with the sacred symbol.*

A beautiful woman appeared in the presence of the prince. Her perfection was such that she seemed to be the younger sister of Beauty itself, bringing love. She was indeed the month of spring, the embodiment of all that is lovely. Her sweetness held the longed-for charms of the moon.

Clearly she would arouse the bemused poet, wandering in pursuit of beauty, from his reverie.* Like the fall of a fine misty rain, her enchanting hair-knot diffused its fragrance. Her ear-rings shone all the while, revealing sudden flashes of lightning, And the glow of her shining face ever enhanced her radiance.

Pārtha had now finished his dawn worship,* And his heart seemed to stop as he saw her appear as if from nowhere. None other than the Goddess of the Hima mountain and the River Jāhnawī was she, And now he became more convinced that she was a vision.*

‘Where are you bound, little sister? gently he asked, ‘In journeying to this mountain, where I travel on pilgrimage to the sacred waters, I had not thought it would also be the destination of those who wish to abandon themselves to the pursuit of Beauty. Yet you are a jewel, Beauty itself, my wondrous one.*

‘How foolish I am, making bold to presume that you could only be properly* Depicted as the riches of a garden offering its beauty: Your teeth gleam with the allure of śrīdanta flowers, And [red] handul flowers are always as one with your gums.

‘The striking beauty of the katirah flower finds refuge in your lips, And in your eyes rests the dark beauty of the blue lotus. In your neck is the slenderness of the fresh jangga vine, its shoots unfurling, And I cannot but think, my lady, that the mangunəng has taken on the form of your lovely hair-band.

‘Your slender body is a blossoming priyaka. Your arms put to shame the tendrils of the delightful aśoka, Your calves disturb the fragrant pandanus, While your full breasts imitate* the rounded, ivory coconuts.’

Thus did Pārtha sing her praises with sweet words. Understanding his allusion, the maiden said: ‘O my Lord! Your perfection* indeed exceeds that of mortal men. For you have come here to this place, where I have never before seen a soul.

‘Your mighty deed is great, even incomparable, You have succeeded in penetrating the inaccessible Hima mountain. It is the highest degree of excellence, and You are fitting to be the refuge of those who seek the prosperity of the world.’

Thus she said, soothingly addressing kind and friendly words to him. And Phalguṇa, with gentle words respectfully replied: ‘Dear maiden, who are you, O beautiful one, who comes here? Tell me truthfully, great is my concern [for you]!

‘Dear maiden, are you, little sister, a goddess in immaterial form? Because all that is charming waits upon you, The flowers all seek refuge with you.* Clearly they lie in wait here to scratch you, that you might see how they long to attend upon you.

‘Truly the incarnation of the entrancing beauty of the fourth month, are you, The ethereal deity of the sea of honey in bodily form. It is as if to seek to express the marvels of the ocean in poetry Or to ascribe beauty to the mountains, would cause confusion.

‘Further, my dear, is it not fruitless for you to stay so pitifully In this inaccessible, remote place, all alone? Though you seem undaunted, are you not fearful to stay in these wooded hills, Where lions, elephants, snakes and tigers lie in wait?’

In this way the prince questioned her closely. The one addressed so sweetly, answered him truthfully: ‘My lord, listen to me, your servant, I am a woman, called Ulupuy, beset by love.

‘I will tell you why I have taken on the form of a woman. There is a king, His Majesty, Korawya, a renowned and illustrious mighty serpent, Who alone is so awesome in his power That his irresistible valour is without equal in the three worlds.

‘His kingdom too is of extraordinary, outstanding splendour Because of the lustre of its countless gems and jewels. Like Indra’s heaven, its beauty is without flaw, And by dint of its very nature, parijāta and kalpawr̥kṣa trees grow there.*

‘Moreover, even heaven is inferior to it, its beauty rivalled By the unique fashioning of the underworld.* Truly, it is a creation of Lord Brahma himself, Unparalleled, for he has given his full attention to its creation.

‘This then is where the foremost king of the snakes dwells in contentment. All vassal snakes are loyal to him, And as for me, I am the daughter of the snake king, And from time immemorial, I have never known the least sorrow.

‘My father has so lavished upon me the quintessence of supreme happiness, That I found myself unable to take any pleasure in anything, so sated* was I by such infinite bliss. I could not resist searching out the peace of this lonely, secluded place, But upon reaching here, suddenly I came upon you, seeking union with the god in the River Jāhnawī.

‘And thus I was smitten by violent passions, wounded by Smara’s fiery arrow. It is only by tasting* the flow of your sweetness that my desire and longing can find respite. For the goddess Ratih, Goddess of Love, has so enflamed the feelings of this yearning, lovesick woman, Who hopes for the excellent ambrosia of your love, for you are the embodiment of the God of Love himself.

‘Moreover, could it possibly be fitting for you to live in the forest, staying in the undergrowth in such a pitiable condition, Eager to conceal yourself, seeking shelter under overhanging rocks, emaciated, unkempt and lack-lustre? How can you find enjoyment, resting on a bed of dry, withered, fallen leaves? Words cannot describe how your body has wasted away, and has lost its strength and become wrinkled from long contact* with them.

‘In short, my lord, please come with me now to the kingdom of the serpent king and seek To enjoy the happiness that my great devotion will afford you. I beg of you, please accept my offer. There is no doubt you will be accorded the devotion of all the snakes. Their only wish will be to serve you With food and refreshments, caring for your every wish, joining with you in sexual union.’*

Thus implored Ulupuy, overcome by passion. Pārtha answered lovingly and sweetly: ‘O most excellent jewel among women! My dear! By stealth you have captivated my very heart. Alas, though, the charm of your seductive words cuts me to the quick, cruelly breaking my heart into little pieces, My dear, I must ask you to accept that I must refuse your love, O little sister.

‘For I am now bound by the agreement that Nārada has ordained, To live as a brāhmācārya, holding to chastity. That is the reason I wander here in the Himālaya, seeking solitude. Only after twelve years will it end and I must wait until that time has elapsed. But how it casts me down, now that I, too, am filled with the desire to enjoy sexual union anew.’*

Thus Arjuna gave her answer, and again the girl spoke: ‘O my lord, you are mistaken in taking so much to heart the words of the seer. I understand what he meant in urging you to comply with his instruction. But surely your solemn and abiding vow was intended only to apply to the Lady Dropadī?

‘With another, how could it be wrong for you to devote yourself to love-making? It would not be adultery if you were to accept my words that speak of seeking sensual pleasure.* The purpose of assiduously performing the yoga of love is the prosperity of your lineage, So that in practising it and becoming steadfastly absorbed in it, you may achieve the Absolute.’*

How could the prince do other than accept her words, seeking to woo him? He tried to curb his doubts then, for her words, asking to be accepted, rang true. And so he sanctioned* them, receiving them favourably, for they were so meet. Moreover, their sweetness was without flaw. ‘No harm* can come of this’, he thought.

And so he decided to follow his desires,* as is the nature of hearts that share love. The prince stood up, made ready, and followed the snake girl. Through a split in the earth’s surface, they took the road to the underworld. But even as they walked on together, without stopping to rest, he took pleasure in the features of the path that she pointed out to him.

They came to her home, a place* where the buildings were of incomparable splendour. The houses were made of gold and all the gateways and fences were of gold and jewels. With its adornments radiating a shimmering glow, it looked like an orb of light, And its dazzling beauty seemed to emanate* from heaven.

The world of the gods is made radiant by the sun, that most excellent of brilliant jewels. It is impossible* for it to grow dim there, even when daylight passes and night falls. As for the underworld, when night comes there, the darkness is diminished, For there is constant light from the ever-gleaming crystal and jewels.

The snake girl led the prince within, And presented to him the beauty of the place: its golden encircling walls* were indeed perfect. Beautiful women sat there, like scattered jewels loosened from a string. Sweet were their charms, Their side-ways glances arousing desire, their supple bodies the very embodiment of young boughs.

There were some who drew near, ready to receive him, eager to provide all that is due to a guest, Sweetly displaying the fire of their natures in their subtle gestures.* Delightfully bespattered with a dusting of flower-pollen, fragrantly perfumed with musk, Their loveliness was enough to render him speechless, as they seemed to offer their sweetness to his gaze.

There was a pavilion of crystal, its roof a madana-lotus* of chased gold, With a wonderful arrangement of flower-shaped adornments, formed of brilliant jewels. There was, as well, a couch awaiting there, the visible manifestation of a hymn to love.* Its painted cloths were decorated with clusters of rays, so that it seemed to be the moon’s secret hide-away.*

And so the beautiful girl and the prince mounted the curtained bedstead. Under the ineluctable force of their love, they found harmony at once, their feelings as one. Their union there on that lovely couch was full of joy, the essence of sweet delight, And they seemed the incarnation of the beautiful jasmine, intertwined with the gaḍung.

Or their union was perhaps that of flower buds seeking to draw near to the beauty of the river. Clearly the two on the couch were Ratih and Manasija, goddess and god of Love. The entwining of their souls* in sexual congress formed a temple for the innermost expression of the art of love.* Suddenly they could no longer resist tasting the welcome delights* of love-making.

Later, when they had been united together in the raptures of love there on the bed, Their sudden delight knew no bounds, their very hearts were touched in their new-found mastery.* Together they came out and sat side by side outside the pavilion, Where their waiting retinue approached them to wait upon them and offer them all that had been prepared.

As they sat outside the crystal pavilion it was as if they had descended from Smara’s heaven. Again and again they partook of the many delicacies of exquisite flavour that stood ready. After they had eaten they again withdrew and together climbed onto the couch, Tirelessly seeking union there on the bed, never wearying of love-making.

Blissfully, these enamoured lovers dallied together there on the couch. Then, they wandered together out into the garden, wanting to be alone. Inseparable, they again sought bliss there in the moonlight, Even resting together on a bed of flowers and leaves.

The joyful harbinger of the fourth month, the thunder, brought the promise of soft rain. They wandered here and there, happily stopping from time to time at a hermitage. Moreover on the bank of the river that descended into the ravines near the most inaccessible gullies, There was a spring where they disported together, constant companions, taking with them as provisions only their love and desire.

For a long time they lived together in love, delighting in their passion and love-making, Adept at devoting* themselves to love, ever-willing to surrender to pleasure, Joyfully tasting* the doctrine of love perfected by Dhanañjaya, Striving after union with the deity of love in immaterial form, abandoning themselves to the delights of bliss.*

For a long time he stayed in the underworld,* And before long an excellent and perfect child was born, Who was later acknowledged as a hero in battle, And was called Irawan, the renowned.

The prince had not forgotten His mission, bearing it constantly in mind, And so he prepared to set off again, Gently explaining to his beloved.

He went on his way to other places, And came finally to the Hima mountain. Travelling easily wherever he wished, he made his way Through the many hills and valleys.

He reached a wondrous, rugged mountain range of unearthly beauty, The renowned Nilaśr̥ngga.* The thick undergrowth of its foothills was difficult to traverse. Its winding gullies were deep, its peak towered over the ravines. Rushing streams welled up from their source and plummeted down into the valleys.

Pure mountain brooks whirled and gushed* from the crevices in the hills, Shining silver-bright, for all the world like the milk of the earth. Merrily a dove bathed and fluttered its wings, sporting and playing in the water,* Accompanied by its entire family, all of whom had joined in this visit to the holy bathing pool of the seers.

The beauty spots towering high above were a delight to see. On the hillsides, hermitages nestled at the edges of the ravines. Dotted here and there, in delightful clusters, Were puṣpadeha* trees, all aflame, like carefully tended fires* that are never allowed to go out.

Enchanting was the sight of all the accomplished, charming anchoresses. The sweetness they presented to his gaze, as he beheld them, was that of campaka flowers. With veiled looks,* as is only to be expected, they threatened him with their quivering eyebrows, But their sidelong glances, with hidden smiles, were as sweet as syrup.

There, in the outer gardens, they gaily gathered vegetables and mushrooms, As well as lalab,* which they wrapped in their breast cloths, with never a thought to their [bare] breasts. Their sweet chorus, rising up faintly as they sang there on the side of the ravines, was a joy, As the frogs answered in soft counterpoint from the gullies.

In the forest hermitage, love-smitten, they offered their beauty to the seers.* Some gathered flowers and bunches of grass which they then arranged, carefully protecting them from their [sharp] nails; Others walked carefully, gracefully into the pond to scoop up water, And as he watched them closely and they feigned displeasure, they seemed just as sweet as heavenly nymphs.

From above, the water [of the pond] lapped at the waters of the sea lying below. A fountain spouted up from a fissure, its water thrown up in the centre. The misty, glistening spray, lit by the sun’s rays, formed a rainbow, With jets of water that looked like a line of slithering snakes flying through the air.

The buds of the woodland trees sighed with longing for the fine river mist. And seemed to draw near its beauty humbly, to ask that they might be placed in a hair-knot. As Dhanañjaya came without warning on the delights of the hermitage, The sound of the kuwong seemed to call them to come forward now that the prince had arrived.

Completely absorbed, the noble Phalguṇa gazed with delight upon The scenic beauty of that mountain hermitage as it rose into view, And because he felt so weary, now that the sun’s heat had utterly sapped his strength, In the end he did not hurry past at all, so tired was he.

At times the path climbed upwards and he could look with delight, as far as the horizon. The beauty was enhanced by the lovely birds on their homeward journey. Gracefully flying in formation, they faded from sight, While with breathtaking beauty, the hills seemed to flash.

The delightful path went step-by-step downwards along the side of the deep ravine. The undergrowth came right* to the ledge, hidden* beneath the overhanging creepers. By leaning over a long way, he could see the shoots of the galing creeper* far down in the gully, Some were entwined around the betel trees, others stood tall and straight.*

The new leaves of the walik-aḍəp on the outskirts of the hermitage, flickered. Wild banana leaves hung limply as if deprived of strength, Then, as the wind caught them, stood straight out like pennants,* Alternating with the fluttering shoots of the anḍuru* beckoning constantly.

Just then, the clear cry of the barking deer rang out. How sweet its gaze* As it came to rest on the merry monkeys bustling about in the trees. Some were lazily nibbling the many fruits, chattering the while. Others, the long-tailed monkeys, rested, just squatting in the branches, oblivious to everything.

It would take too long to describe* this scene. Soon after, he came to a hermitage. The trees all shimmered as if to welcome him. Coquettishly they let their flowers fall to the ground like a rain of jewels, Releasing their fragrant perfume without pause as they lay scattered there, enchantingly.

Time passed and in the quiet of evening the sun took its course.* Its rays lost their splendour as dusk fell. As if dyed crimson-red, the heavens shone brightly, Wisps of cloud spattered here and there like drops of blood.

The magnificent design of that sacred hermitage enhanced the beauty even more. It was shrouded in webs of cloud that settled over all, And were absorbed* into the smoke of the sacrificial fires of the seers, In evidence that impurity and darkness of mind had been destroyed, burnt up in the fire.

The fragrance of the oblations within wafted out and spread far and wide. Their perfumes, mingling together with the scent of aromatic smoke from the lamps, covered everything. Cymbals clashed, bells tinkled together in unison With the recitation of prayers - all served to captivate his heart and bring him peace.

Birds billed and cooed all the while as they roosted in the hermitage, In tumultuous discourse, ever discussing and interpreting the sacred syllables, To the delightful accompaniment of the bees whose voices could be heard in the fragrant garlands,* As if expert in gracefully leading the gentle, mellifluous singing.

So many delights did the prince see in the hermitage, And so astonished and enraptured was he, that his weariness vanished. Lost in thought, he observed closely, resting on a flat, broad rock And determined, instead, to spend the night in the hermitage.

But let us now turn our attention to the seers who all came quickly to welcome their guest. All the anchoresses who dwelt in the hermitage and who had been dressing themselves came forth, Rushing out, leaving behind their clothing of bark cloth, unable to wait. So full of joy were they to see a man of such beauty that they were quite overwhelmed.

They ran toward the prince who, as if summoned by the power of their meditation,* sat there Charmingly, underneath an aśoka tree, holding on his lap a garland of flowers. The ascetics gazed at him open-mouthed,* for his appearance so far surpassed all others in excellence, That they could only think that he was the God of Love Kāma, the sight of him rendering them speechless.

The nuns too were so dazed that they seemed to have lost their senses, Displaying their thoughts and longings as if they were quite incapable of hiding the desire in their eyes. The seers greeted him: ‘Fortunate are we who dwell in this hermitage! By your arrival, O Prince, we have now reaped the rewards of those* who have achieved indifference to the world.

‘What is it you seek in wandering these forested regions, O Prince? It is as if you are the origin* of all that is excellent, and will bring to an end the barren state of us who dwell in this forest. Through steadfast meditation, the felicity of our ascetic practices has been restored, And now, by your kind favour, we will go on to attain our goals.’

Thus said the great sages and the prince told the holy men, Serenely, of the true reason he had come to the holy bathing place, Relating also the tale of his deeds in the underworld. Happy were the seers to hear [his story] which so heartened them.

At last, the ascetics escorted the prince into the hermitage. On his arrival they treated him with great care and attention, Providing him with water for washing his face and feet, as well as roots, fruits and efficacious herbs and potions. Dhanañjaya was delighted, his heart captivated by the seers.

During the time the prince spent in the hermitage, Many ascetics came to him,* longing to draw near him. He wandered in the hermitage and was welcomed wherever he went by great sages, Bringing joy to the holy men of these communities.

For a long time he sojourned with the seers, As if he had no other thought in his mind* but the constant well-being of others. At last he begged leave to depart from the holy abbot, Who, pleased to consent, embraced the prince:

‘O Sir, place of refuge of the defenceless, who cares for the welfare of religious communities throughout the kingdom! We have been able to share in the joy of one such as you, who is endowed with true excellence, my lord. Clearly, you are a great man in choosing to dwell in the mountains. May you show compassion and continue to travel the path of virtue* as the support of righteousness!’

Thus said the priestly sage. The prince then set off, Making his way through the groves of the hermitage towards the rolling hills. Devoted as he was to spiritual purity, he bathed there in the river and was cleansed of all impurities. He then set off for another realm, where too he was received with joy.

For there was a most excellent king, famed throughout the land for his meritorious deeds and exceptional qualities, Who reigned in Mayūra, the marvellous capital of his kingdom. The name of Citradahana was truly renowned as world-protector, He was ever the benefactor of those without recourse, never seeking victory when he saw others fail.

King Citradahana had a daughter of such flawless beauty, It seemed the Goddess of Beauty had taken residence in her body. The very perfume of the flowers seemed diminished as they held their breath in awe of her, And therefore the princess was known as Citragandhā, ‘The Fragrant One.’

But it was well-known that the king’s mind was indeed troubled, His heart dwelled only on his plight. For he knew there was a danger he would have no one to succeed him in the future, And was full of concern for the protection of his realm.

The king thought constantly of his coming need for a son-in-law, And thus he sought a perfect man of good character, That he might beget an heir who would succeed to the throne and rule the land, But his heart knew only despair as he reflected on his desire.

For what worthy man would really allow such a thing, And be willing to marry without force or command?* ‘To act in such a way would certainly be wrong’, he thought, ‘truly base conduct. It is not the proper way of upright men to embark on an evil course.*

‘For girls ripe for marriage, it should be like this: A flower at the peak of beauty attracts the bee itself And so it is fitting that she should be carried off by force to find satisfaction. Such is the analogy for young people who obtain their partners without coercion.’

Thus the king grieved, with nothing to solace his heart, He forgot everything but his fervent longing, finding it impossible to conquer* his wandering thoughts. His advisors too, seemed helpless, ‘Such has never happened before’ they thought, every one of them moaning with distress.

But in the web of existence, two forces ebb and flow - Good and evil - both are encountered, both are ever-present, In equal measure, always part of the life of every creature. Rich and poor, coarse and fine, there is none who is not held in their thrall.*

Those who forget the meaning of religion and neglect the eternal worship of Śiwa, Surely will encounter difficulties in their life and will never reach liberation. But the King of Mayūra was faithful in his religious observances and always adhered firmly to them. He, who had known joy, now found it was sorrow that drew near and trailed him.

So he hid in his heart the great burden of his sorrow, And always allowed himself to be amused and seemingly untroubled. He diverted himself on the shore and in forest hermitages, Again and again, as a means of distracting himself from his misery.

For a long time, the king had been in torment, filled with longing, Guided by the dictates of his heart, thinking only of the resolution of his dilemma, And now the intervention of the gods had brought about the arrival of Pārtha, Who would clearly dispel the king’s misery.

For the beauty of the most excellent princess was so renowned That even the loveliness of the mountains trembled, their power to entrance vanquished. The charm of poems seemed to peter out, their beauty just floating away, And so, borne along by what he had heard, the prince came there.

It was heard far and wide that Arjuna, the excellent son of Pāṇḍu, was visiting the king. How delighted he was to welcome this guest. His officials dared to place all their hopes in him, Like flower buds taking sustenance* from the arrival of the gentle rain from the clouds.

All at once the country resembled a mighty ocean. It shook with the thundering of the people as they poured forth from the palace. The prince was like the full moon shining down upon them And so, beset by love-pangs, they whispered to each other, sighing continually.

They stared and stared at the extraordinary beauty of the prince. He encompassed the arrival of the God of Love, the season of flowers and the sweetness of the season of honey at once. Moreover he was irresistible, mighty, splendid and virtuous in battle. And thus all they could talk of was this handsome prince.

And so, the king approached the prince, His countenance sweet with welcome, his every gesture friendly. His kind and warm greeting went straight to the heart of the newly-arrived guest: ‘Great is our good fortune that you have come here, my son.

‘We were like withered grass and trees that have given up hope, Denied access to rain, terrible indeed was our longing, weary were we with craving, Our restlessness plumbing the very depths. But now, suddenly, inexplicably, we have burst into bud. For we think, you have brought the mercy of god Suranatha within our reach.

‘This realm has been so arid and fruitless, As if through its own misdeeds it has become barren and lustreless. It may now come to know good fortune, For your virtue and excellence will bring it prosperity.’

These were the king’s happy words. The prince replied: ‘Indeed no, O King! You go too far in praising me thus. Your wisdom is all-surpassing. You are pure, concerned for the good of others, your power is over-reaching. And therefore, Your Majesty, I pay homage to you, you who makes my heart soar.’*

And he then asked for the hand of the excellent princess. The king of Mayūra was willing to grant his request: ‘My dear boy, take my beloved daughter to serve you as your wife. You may be her husband. May you know joy! But there is a promise I must exact from you.

‘Formerly Mayūra was an excellent realm, as you have no doubt heard. Its king, my own forefather, was Prabhākara. For a very long time he reigned,* but had no royal heir, And so, desirous of a child, he withdrew to perform austerities.

‘When he saw how steadfast was the king, God Iśwara was merciful, And granted to him the boon of a child, And one, - and only one, - to each of his descendants too, So that, ever after, his line would reign in this kingdom.

‘The cause of the difficulties we now suffer and which bring us such sorrow, Is that the deeds of his former life have come to nothing and have brought only bewilderment, For I am left with a child, a most beautiful daughter, Who obviously cannot continue to safeguard the weal of my subjects.

‘Look kindly on my plea, O Prince. From you I hope for compassion. My request is for a male child, A child whose destiny it would be to be my heir, And be enthroned in this land. This is the bride-price.’

Thus he spoke. The prince, without hesitation, Vowed that any child of the princess, Any fine son, would succeed to the throne. With this pledge, the agreement they had deliberated was sealed.

The king then gave directions* to all the palace officials, For the betrothal of the princess to Arjuna. The army were delighted to hear of it, giving their full support, For it is in the nature of those who serve to be loyal in this way.

At once, they attended to all that would be required for the celebration of love. Preparing everything, bringing it all to the bed-chamber. Laying out for them perfectly, without delay, All the ritual requisites, of unequalled splendour, arranged in full measure.

The ladies of the palace, hearing [the news], took pleasure In preparing and setting out the gifts of homage attractively. Others attended to the ornaments but all were equally delighted to welcome their guest, Their hearts beating wildly with pleasure* as they pictured him in their minds.

A beautiful pavilion* had been set ready for his use. It was unequalled in its true magnificence, Of unparalleled design, ringed by a moat, As splendid as the Hima mountain.

This was the place they had prepared for Dhanañjaya. Many delicious dishes were to be made and offered to him. Ready to meet his every wish, some led the singing, Accompanying their melody with drums and the sweet music of the kətur.*

As the sun set, the king withdrew, His heart no longer beset by constant worry. Because of the strength of his feelings towards Dhanañjaya, His joy was reflected in his radiant countenance.

The king went to his quarters and made for the queen’s apartment within, Where his arrival was welcomed with smiles and he was ushered in with sweet glances. He informed the queen of what he had done And the reason for his plan to marry off their daughter.

The queen made no objection to the marriage of the princess. The palace ladies were also all highly delighted, some even felt burgeoning desire, Thinking: ‘Indeed the prince is fitting to hold power over our princess.’ But let us not describe that. The king then went to the princess.*

As soon as she knew of the king’s visit, the princess Became very agitated, anxious to hear what he had in mind. The king’s approach filled her with an anxiety that she tried to restrain, Fighting back her tears, even as she came forward to greet him as he entered.

Her sorrow, so obviously hidden, filled the hearts of the palace women with pity. Many of her young attendants were skilful at interpreting the outward signs of her inner feelings And so they drew near to sit beside her, like a profusion of jasmine flowers to behold, But the princess so outstripped their charms, that even at first sight* she seemed like the moon.

As she made her obeisance, her slender arms were like bending boughs. Her waist and limbs were so supple that they seemed a collection of unsharpened kris.* Even more beautiful was the sight of her body, aglow* in the light of the lamps. Her face grew pale like the waning moon, as she was suddenly overcome with fear.

Then the king, his queen beside him,* addressed the princess: ‘O my child, there is none but you to whom we can turn to perform this favour for us. You alone can fulfil it and ensure our well-being, O princess, If only you will show compassion and be the instrument through which we may reach heaven.

‘O my darling jewel, truly* we ask much of you. Please accept the inevitability of our words. How could we possibly deny* the love we have for you, my daughter? But now your body is ripe, the proper place to bring* a husband without delay, And so Dhanañjaya is to be your husband, for he is a fitting match for you’.

Thus said the king. As for the princess, she made no reply. Despairingly she held back her tears, her heart crushed, not knowing what to do. She feared to disappoint the king by disobeying his command, So she merely sighed endlessly as she listened to her father and mother.

The queen spoke next: ‘My child you must heed the king, As you know we have only you, my dear, to uphold our honour. You will perform a great service for our lineage, if you but give life to a male grandchild,* Who will reign here in Mayūra, and thus your marriage settlement* will become the source of our kingdom’s strength.

‘Come! Accept this! Do not suppose that the king would neglect his duty as ruler. He who has a child or wife wishes only to dispel their troubles. Unwise is he who is bound by the love of a child, for it will lead him to shame. His concern is that they are not held subject* by the fortunes and misfortunes that are encountered in this world.’

Having spoken thus the king [and queen] retired and the princess was left alone. So distraught was she as her maids led her away, that she felt suddenly faint, and swayed, burdened by sorrow. She reached the sanctuary of the bower of creepers, bewailing the fate of maidens* who are to wed. Her tears flowed unabated, as her maids tried to soothe her with words of comfort.

All the ladies of the court were dazed and wandered restlessly about, lost in dreams, becoming weak with longing, Carried away by desire, overwhelmed with rapture, rendered powerless by the prince’s sweet charms that so wounded them. Feverish, burning with secret desires, overcome with the confusion of unfulfilled love, there in the moonlight that streamed in, Falling silent now he, who was the very embodiment of love, had come there riding upon the moon.*

One girl, sitting there forlornly on the floor with her hair unbound, swooning, was pitiful in her dejection, Writing of her desire on a lovely sumanasa flower, turning her longing to letters, As she whispered to her serving girl, telling of the pain of her love-sickness, Heart-brokenly giving voice to her sorrow in a charming lament.

Another, her kain in disarray,* lay on the lap of her attendant, her great ardour unabated, Confused, mad with longing for a response to the rapturous delight of blissful lovers, Who are happy just to wander along the sea-shore, lost in the composition of love-poems, Undaunted even when brought to a stop by the rising tide, content, though there is no shelter for the night.

Yet another jewel among women, her charms at their peak like a flower in bud, Mournfully lost in reverie, weighed down by her feelings of longing and sadness, was being gently massaged, underneath an aśoka tree. Her maid, assiduously devoted to her every need, attended her with words of comfort, But knew full well that only in union with the prince could she find comfort for her sorrow:

‘How can a profusion of flower-buds* burst open, if they must risk spoiling their beauty? They will wither completely if the fourth month does not come to bring its gentle rain, so that they might unfold. Their new leaves are to no avail, the spiteful wind seems only to tease them mercilessly, tossing them to and fro, So that they want only to dive into those cruel clouds so long awaited, bowed down with longing.

‘Oh what other outcome could there be but that their beautiful petals*would die? The fragrance of the asana, the jasmine, the suraga, even the luxuriant* nagapuṣpa, would be pointless If the bees shunned them and no longer desired to caress them, Just as the splendour of the moon would cease if the love-sick cucur bird abandoned it.

‘My dearest mistress, you who are sister to the beauty of the fourth month, I know the meaning of your words, you are the pale* aśoka in bud. Oh alas! How it awakens my pity, dear one, to see your sweet charms so enfeebled. Indeed yours is the sad plight of a flower that withers the moment it is taken from a fragrant hair-knot.

‘O maiden, look here, I, your servant, my jewel, will go to the prince. I will take this lovely petal as a token of your homage to him, the god of the love-sick. When he beholds your sweetness, how could he not be won over and long fervently for the ocean of honey, So that only in being engulfed in its centre, would he find respite for his passionate longing.’

It would take too long to tell of the thoughts of these women, whose hearts ached With the passion and bewilderment that engulfed them. They tossed restlessly, greatly distressed, Confused, carried away by desires that, though they tried to ward them off, overwhelmed them so.

But the princess was not thus affected. She was listless and dispirited, and paid no heed to her surroundings. Her attendants and maids untiringly caressed her, Seeking words to bring her comfort.

Her pitiful moans became more acute, For her mind was in turmoil, preoccupied. Tormented and brooding, she was unable to sleep, As is the way of young girls.

The king’s decision, commanding her To be married now without delay, Was both the cause of her suffering And the reason for her deep bewilderment.

She could hear the music of geṇḍing and drums outside, In merry, sweet accompaniment to the singing. The lovely strains of the curing cymbals of the piḍuḍukan ceremony,* Rang out the whole night long to torment her.

But enough of that. Night soon passed, And the waning moon went off to hide away. The seventh hour* rang out, As if inviting daylight to hasten there.

When every kind of ceremonial requisite had been prepared and laid ready, The populace entered and assembled in the outer courtyard. At daybreak, the sun shone bright and clear, radiating its brilliance everywhere. The city gleamed brightly, crimson-red, and the gəṇḍing resounded merrily.

There in the outer hall, the king received homage, The exuberance of the court ever-increasing, like the rising ocean. Great throngs of people spread everywhere, scurrying busily about, The saragi gongs* crashing in joyful competition, like waves breaking.

Some people were merrily eating and drinking together, in full measure, The whole day spent happily in each other’s company, completely unrestrained, everything without fault. But let us tell now of the princess, in the pavilion, undergoing the piḍuḍukan ceremony. Her sweet charms rivalled those of Ratih, Goddess of Love, as she was adorned.*

As she was assiduously attended by those officiating* in the inner chamber And by those who adorned her in splendour, the maiden became more and more dejected, So upset at the king’s apparent disregard of her, That she could take no pleasure in the beauty of the decorations with which they adorned her.

Although she was truly worthy to vanquish the beauty of the wondrous fourth month, Her sorrow made her as lifeless as a withered flower. The sun began to go down as if to hasten the wedding-night, While the awesome rumble of the thunder, with its soft and quavering sound, seemed a prelude to love-making.

Inside that beautiful pavilion the noble princess was attended. Moreover, because all the most beautiful adornments had been reserved for it, The pamiḍuḍukan pavilion was breath-takingingly lovely, quite enchanting.* While her maid servants, all thoroughly accomplished in the arts of beauty, were like heavenly nymphs.

So great were her charms that she was like an ornamented painting of a goddess, Such an incomparable and excellent girl was she, the supreme jewel of the palace. The unending molten stream of the goddess of nectar would yield before her, infatuated, By her sweetness and would be reduced to confusion to see her own beauty take on visible form.

The setting sun had sent its rays to keep watch over her painted lips. Clearly, rain-filled* clouds were in her hair-knot. Darting swallows flying about seemed to have become one with her frowning brows, And the flickering lightning had lost its brightness, in service to her feet.

Then the melodic sound of the prayers and rituals became louder, Its charm enhanced by the soft murmuring of those gathered in the outer court. The accompaniment of the lovely gəṇḍing and curing* aroused feelings of longing, Their musical offering bringing to mind the tossing of the beautiful ocean.

At sunset, the clouds shone like red silk. At the fifth hour the enchanting moon goddess rose and shone brightly. But, disheartened that this true incarnation of beauty mocked her And worsted her, she became pale and waited there, hidden behind the dark clouds that cast shadows across her [face].

The princess’s ornaments were so decoratively arranged by those waiting upon her That it seemed as if the beauty of the dawn was shamed and took leave of her charms. Indeed, all the sentiments of delight in a love-poem or the subtle allusions in an allegory* Were to be found in her sweetness and, if but whispered, would invoke feelings of love.

We will say no more of the princess but tell instead of the prince.* He was showered with all requisites and due ceremonies By the king,* who now arranged the wedding. In due time, the bridal couple withdrew. We will now tell of them.

They went up together into the beautiful bed-chamber. That the rites of marriage* would be delightful, was plain for all to see in [the prince’s] desire. It was as if he had been overwhelmed with the unconstrained delight that is treasured on a delicately-made writing board And the beautiful princess was clearly the wondrousness of gentle rain.*

As the princess mounted the bedstead, Her heart was filled with dread and disquiet. Despondently she was led in. She was truly afraid because of the sorrow that now visited her, And she could find no solace, as she felt an unremitting sadness sweep over her.

As they sat there together, all who saw them thought them delightful: ‘Our princess is the image of a young banana leaf newly unfolding. The prince is like a profusion of jangga vine, unrestrainedly caressing her.’ Thus they thought, full of longing, their wounded hearts captivated.

So alluring and beautiful was the scene, with moonlight enhancing the beauty Of the bright, glowing pavilion, it was truly without equal. The lustrous radiance of the gold ridge-pole was augmented by jewels, And the light of the moon grew pale when irradiated by their gleam, sparkling in all directions.

The splendid draperies were like those used to curtain a grotto of love. The sun-red glowing horizon seemed to have moved there. Moreover the couch within the house of creepers was spread with softest silks.* Camphor and unguent gave forth their fragrance, diffusing their scent and perfumes overall.

The prince had already been enthroned* on the couch, And had taken the girl on his lap, where she lay deprived of strength, all atremble. When they were left alone there, he was just like a bee caressing a budding flower. He became more and more like an intoxicated taḍaharṣa bird paying homage to the moon, overwhelmed by longing.

Bewildered and wan, the beautiful girl grew ever more afraid, and sighed, Bending gracefully aside when he tried to seize her waist, moving away, warding him off. Overwhelming sadness totally crushed her heart into little pieces, And tears of honey suddenly welled up in her eyes, as she arched her brows threateningly.

His heart beating wildly, the prince became more and more passionate. Clearly he was the embodiment of honey, blended with sweetest syrup, Akin to the thunder of the fourth month, that lightens the suffering of those overcome by the pains of love. And his words, droplets of sweet delight, were the essence of love:

‘O maiden! Queen of the beauty of asanas! Flower of the whole kingdom! You are my final destination, the very cause of my love-sick passions. All joy and desire embodied in an incomparably wrought jewel are you, The fulfilment of a dream, [a gift] from the God of Love, magically appearing.

‘Therefore you have been accorded first place* by all beautiful women. Have pity on me, the one whose heart has striven to resist the dictates of the God of Love. Clearly it is because of my love-sick heart that I reach for you, seeking you out. And so I have come humbly to seek refuge with you, here in the bed-chamber.’

Thus he spoke. But the maiden he sought to woo averted her face, weeping. Her body, lithe as a tendril, seemed to wilt, as she sighed plaintively. The prince’s passion was so intense,* so uncontrolled, that she grew very apprehensive As his intent gaze sought to reveal her secret places.*

‘O my darling, why do you treat my troubles so lightly as I seek your favour? Even though you stab me with your eyebrows, how could that be reason enough for me to go away and abandon myself to longing? I would think myself fortunate if I could but be pierced by your beautiful glances. What would I care if I were cut to pieces? My darling, my only hope is that I, who so desire you, might now receive the gift of your love.’

The object of his love-struck worship, weary of resisting, sank down, weeping, Helplessly striking at him with her hands as if she would blunt her nails. As he seized her waist-band, it suddenly came loose from her fragrant, slender waist. And though it seemed she would die as he threatened her thus, he ignored her fear and took possession of her.

Intent on his purpose, unable to restrain his mounting excitement, The prince abandoned himself to the overwhelming force of his boundless desire, quite without mercy. For it so assailed him that, in the end, he ravished* the beautiful princess, Pressing down* upon her trembling breasts, now laid bare, filling her with fear and aversion.

After being thus deflowered, the weary maiden was completely devastated, Like a pale leaf that has just withered away. Gasping for breath, deprived of all strength, she rose and stumbling to the foot of the couch, sank down there, Her embroidered, fragrant robe stained with blood, glistening wet.

Aghast, she readjusted her clothing For fear of again being forced to make love. She went dejectedly from the fragrant boudoir, A sudden frown on her face at seeing the blood trickling to her feet.

Her maids, taken by surprise as she came out, greeted her: ‘Dear mistress, pay no attention to your pain, my dear. Why it is just like taking betel – the first time, it is hot to the lips, But there is no doubt that the next time it, instead, becomes* delightful’.

And so the princess was urged to return at once, With coaxing words as they bathed her face. The fear that filled her at their insistence, was plain to see As they escorted her back in soon after.

Thereupon, the heart of the lover she had abandoned in the beauty of that lovely bed-chamber became ever more inflamed. His tender gaze was heart-stopping and as sweet as a beautiful lotus. As rain in the fourth month, his words set her heart aquiver. He was like a yearning bee in the fragrant asana, intoxicated with beauty:

‘O maiden, jewel of all who love, enthroned in the innermost depths of my yearning heart, you hold me spell-bound with passion, Bringing to me the sharpest love-pangs, your arching brows wound my shattered heart. How can I not die when your eyes shine upon me, filling me with feelings of longing? And in captivating me with desire, you become the essence that forever fills my heart.

‘But even if I, your brother, were to die, I could become your eye-black, your ear-ornaments, your breast-band, your robe. What pleasure I would know in heightening the beauty of your heart-melting glance, or drawing near in homage to your fragrant ear. On the couch I could caress your breasts, marked with the scratches [of love-making] and enclose your beautiful, lustrous waist. My darling, what joy would be mine if I were thus allowed to inhale the scent of your beauty.’

These were the prince’s loving words, telling her of the depth of his feelings, enchanting her. His words of love were fit to dispel the apprehension of any* love-lorn bride and put her fear to rest. But just as the sun grows cool at twilight, the princess was sad at heart and upset, And would not look at her lover’s delightful glances though, like syrup, they were sweet enough to carry her pain away.

He found many sweet ways to alleviate the princess’s heartache. In joyful ecstasy, he kissed her as she lay with her head in his lap, stroking her breasts, Striving only for harmony in their love-making, steadfastly practising the meditation of the doctrines [of love], They seemed to drown in a sea of honey, caressed by the clouds of passion.

After making love a second time, the princess was exhausted and deathly pale. Like the moon growing dim, the sweetness of her wan face had lost its lustre. Moreover the lamps shining upon her enhanced her charm, captivating The prince, who because of his boundless love, became even more ardent.

The onlookers, hiding behind the partitions there, were overcome by feelings of longing, tinged with desire, On hearing the soft rustlings and whispered endearments which seemed only to enhance their love-making. In time, weary of joining in love, they fell silent and slept, Without a thought for the clothes and wraps that they had left abandoned there, kicked aside.

We will not tell of them as, replete with love-making, they slept* there on the couch. When day began to break, a fragrant breeze came wafting, Carrying with it the perfume of the srī gaḍing, asana and kamuning flowers And the enchantment of secret places that, like a bed chamber, conjure up visions of love.

Delightfully, the distant call of the kokila could be faintly heard. The peacocks, carolling joyfully on the gate-posts, were enchanting. The bees, buzzing in their hives, sounded like ardent husbands* kissing each of their wives In a frenzy of delight, aroused by the asanas and the fragrant, beautiful pandanus flowers.

The bright Lord of the Sun was just beginning to shine As radiantly as a half smile that hints at passion. Glowing rays of light spread sparkling on all sides, And burnished* clouds shone with brilliant streaks.

The hand-maidens had completed their preparations, And stood in readiness on the outer verandah. They brought there all that they needed for bathing, With graceful* movements, full of happiness.

But the loving couple, enveloped in weariness from love-making, did not know that day had come. They were surprised when they awoke to find their clothes in disarray and rearranged them. They emerged, eyes blinking, from the bridal chamber, And were then bathed together by their attentive maids.

Emerging from the water,* they sat there together on the verandah outside the pavilion, Joyfully sitting so closely layered together,* with the princess on his lap, They looked as beautiful as a god and goddess descending from the heavens, With the serving-girls waiting upon them, each appropriately adorned,* seated below them according to rank.

They were ill-at-ease, lingering there on the verandah, Thrown into confusion by sudden thoughts of the sweetness of the partner who had brought them such bliss. The gleam in their love-filled eyes seemed to compel them to return, And again they climbed up to the couch, there to discover the joy of their nakedness.

Truly splendid was all that was used to regale them during the marriage ceremonies.* Softly, as if to soothe them, the sweet strains of the gəṇḍing sang out their praises, And the fragrance of the perfumes, boreh and bdellium wafted there, Thus arousing their passion and making them eager for love.

The fourth hour sounded out, a signal for them to come out of the pavilion together. Then delicious foods prepared in full measure were placed before them, The elderly women keeping close watch over every detail of the offerings, As lute players and graceful dancers fulfilled their every request and desire.

They became Kāma and Ratih as they sought union in the bed-chamber. Because of their boundless mutual passion they found harmony, burgeoning together in the raptures of love. Their enjoyment was that of the delighted meeting of the sap of the fruit of the betel and sharp tooth. The consummation of their union awakening joy in the faces of her mother and father.

With that, the king’s mind indeed became tranquil. The joy of the people throughout the kingdom returned in equal measure.* Prosperity immediately brought back the might of heroes throughout the land, For there was nothing to trouble their hearts, all were equally untroubled.

We will not tell of the many months that the two lovers lived in mutual delight, Happy to be as one together, there in the palace. Their every action touched their hearts to the core,* Their love for each other like that of the mangunəng flower, closely entwined with the jangga vine.

And so the king knew unbounded love in great measure, Because the prince had caused his heart to be free of care, And so he formed a deep and lasting affection for Pārtha, While love for him blossomed in the hearts of his people and army.

The rumbling thunder [of the fourth month], that season that summons wanderers to surrender themselves to the pursuit of beauty, arrived. The prince’s heart swelled to hear it And so he made preparations to go in search of the beauty of nature, His mind dwelling constantly on thoughts of bathing places, oft frequented.

Having received the consent of his beloved, he took leave First, of the king and queen But we will pass over that. The next day, the prince set off, Accompanied by a royal escort, fully equipped, lined up in formation.

Delightful were the lovely fragrances from the flower gardens as the breeze caught them. The cry of the peacock was enchanting, As the prince made his preparations to set off without delay from the royal palace and went on his way. Night had passed and the landscape came into view through a curtain of falling rain. For all the world like jewels scattered everywhere, rain drops filled the fields.

The newly-risen sun shone in the east, a shower of sparkling rays radiating down into the mountain gullies. The glittering forest trees were at their best, their shimmering branches vibrant. The joyful sound of the wood-fowl* in the gorges rang out,* as male and female, in repose, called back and forth* to each other. And the cuckoo’s cry sounded loudly* as if inspired by the mountain view.

Trees that had abandoned hope and shrivelled, now bathed with dew,* put forth new leaves. Delightedly, young bael creepers* opened, thrusting their tendrils out sideways. Curling fronds of katirah spiralled down and blended into the gold* trees, Encircling the overhanging wanañjari* in its embrace, as if longing to form a bower* for lovers.

Along the sides of the mountain ridges, the cultivated fields, lit by the sun’s rays, gleamed. Ivory betel-nut palms, heavily laden with coconuts, their fruit ripe for picking, stood in delightful rows. On the slopes were verdant rice-fields, bananas grew abundantly in the ravines, Their leaves, lying on the ground where they had fallen, like blunted styluses.

The crops were green and lovely, freshly shining, wet with dew. Millet and rattan, tuberous roots and payanggu were in full bloom, there were aubergines neatly planted along the small dykes.* Garden plots had been established in the near-by valleys, the glistening soil newly tilled. Unfolding taro, just beginning to show its flowers,* looked like rolled-leaf ear ornaments of ivory.

The graceful young leaves of the lirang looked for all the world like the naked waists of maidens. As if throwing themselves down on the ground in dejection, prey to feelings of longing and sadness, the withering jangga vines were mad with desire. The ivory coconuts were like uncovered breasts in the fullness of their beauty, Indeed, they seemed to have stolen the loveliness of a yearning maiden, secretly seeking the raptures of love.

Cangkilung birds sang sweetly in the ravines, accompanied by the answering calls of pings.* Shyly they called out,* sobbing and yearning as they waited in the rangin trees. ‘Ooooo’, came the soughing of the rustling wind, whistling through* the wungwang bamboo,* bringing delight, And just to hear the heart-stopping cry of the pakṣi kətur birds seemed* to awaken emotions of love.

As the prince proceeded on his journey, one splendid vista after another unfolded before his eyes. Emerging from a leafy wood, he entered a peaceful valley. The dry rice-fields were beautiful, their plants a balm to the eyes.* What a pity they had been so neglected! Perhaps hermits who had once sought solitude* there had been rendered powerless by magical forces and worsted.*

Along the sides of the path, well-kept fields rising up in terraces Towered above the settlements located at the foot of the mountain. In the bright sunlight, he could see them all clearly as he looked down, But they disappeared from view as they zigzagged* in and out of the distant hollows.

The gardens came right up to the undergrowth* which seemed intent on invading the hermitage, But it seemed to hesitate uncertainly, lest in the heat of the sun, the valley road would be as [hot as] a cauldron,* It kept constant guard against the wickedness* of the naughty monkeys, seeking to steal the plants and crops, As well as the terrible forest boars that were treacherously determined to destroy everything,* so fierce were they.

Stands of bending ivory coconut palms charmingly waiting there on the hill, beckoned.* Delightful in their exuberance,* they lent enchantment to the haunts of poets composing verse, But their invitation to the chattering lemurs, half-hidden there, seemed to no avail* In the face of the incessant loud clattering of the alarms* that frightened them all away unharmed.

Determined to convey the message of beauty, gagarangan trees* bedecked themselves with garlands of flower, But they had forgotten their true nature - that they had no fragrance at all - and stood tall and lofty.* In boldly challenging the beauty of asanas in the fourth month like this and trying to replace it, They were quite in error, for it was quite impossible they could ever cause desire.

The kamwagan diffused its fragrance to envelop the artful pupulutan*flowers. Wanting to mingle together with them and give prominence to its own perfume,* it seemed to take delight* in such fraudulent and impudent behaviour. Enhancing its beauty with red pilapilu,* gleefully planning to lie in wait in the gullies, The singgugu shrub lay ready, its flowers languidly scattered and strewn about to form a mat.

In full blossom, the wunga tali seemed to tremble, giving itself airs, though it seemed absurd that it could ever wound a heart. Far from hiding itself away, it acted quite wrongly, showing too little self control. As if maddened, it tried to discover the secrets of the mandalīka calling to it, though it sullenly shook its head, Drawing itself up to its full height, ignoring the passion that filled it, reached outwards, and was trapped.*

In this way, the beauties of the countryside were set before the prince on his journey. The ascetics all came out according to rank to meet him as he travelled on his way, Bidding him welcome, warmly offering him every efficacious herb and medicine as well as delicious fruits. Joyfully, and attentive to every detail, he [in turn] presented them with the gifts due from a prince.*

Many country people, not to mention a great number of their leaders, attended him. Abundant were their gifts of delicacies: there were fruits and roots and sweet, young coconuts, Palm wine and kilang.* All that they had in their stores, they offered humbly, Pleasing the prince so much that he wished to linger there.

By the time he was ready to set off again to visit the many beauty spots in the forest, The sun had set, and so he made ready to spend the night, There, in the hermitage, with his entire escort* carefully keeping watch, While all the duwan* came forward in rank to attend to his every need.

When night had passed, the prince again went on his way in search of beauty, Making his way along the edges of the ravines, along the dips and bends of the magnificent mountain. He was charmed by the sound of the musical watermills, faintly audible in the distance, tinkling sweetly one after the other in the gullies. The muted roar of a waterfall, that could be heard now and then, entranced him.

Valleys lay open to view in the curves of the hills, the forests along their slopes So charmingly spread out below, but covered now with white clouds, were scarcely visible. Low clouds came down, blanketing them, then dispersing again like the remnants of night, So that for a moment the walik-aḍəp trees* flickered, then, as if suddenly called away, unable to wait, vanished.

The sun now shone as radiantly as the face of a beloved in the bed-chamber. Taking flight, the dew formed stripes on the grass then sought a hiding place. As the mist was finally swept away, the hermitages on the hill sides, where the ascetics dwelt, Burnished brightly by the sun, were like white doves flashing past.

Gleefully, the members of his escort* scattered, spreading out everywhere along the valleys, clinging* to the mountain ridges. Some were leaping about, others made their way* to peaks north and south. Merrily, joyfully, seeking out the delights of the forested hills. The reverberating sounds of their hunting* echoed as they wandered about there tumultuously.

Content, the prince descended from his chariot and went off in search of the beauties of nature. ‘Indeed I will go into the woods, there I will surely find them’, he thought to himself, And he went on unescorted, separating himself from the others so that there would be none to observe him. Then gradually leaving them behind, he wandered further away, ever more absorbed in beauty.

The prince now became enthralled by the delightful ornaments that the forest held in readiness for him. Far below, a small pavilion that looked like a mushroom nestling on the steep slopes of the rocky, pitted terrain, bade him welcome. There the prince rested, gazing intently up at the splendid roof-beam, Where a name, faint now but still distinguishable, remained there for others to find and ponder.

He could just make out another hermitage at the edge of the ravine which majestically towered above. The penance of the ascetics who lived there must have been powerful beyond words, For they were served* by female ascetics who would certainly bring failure to any who strove* to subdue their senses, Always planning to weave their charms to bewitch* the concentration of the seers.

A gliding river of unearthly beauty appeared like a vision in a dream, And from the mountain peak high above, it seemed to have formed a beach below. Along the edges of its beautiful banks, rock-platforms waited invitingly, As if to decree that such beauty depicted in verse, could only be found in the poem of the prince of poets.

In the middle of the water, he could just make out a reef, thrusting upward. Even as the waves washed over it, caressing it and bespattering it with water, it stood unyielding. Moreover, a veil of spray sought out the graceful pandanus draped* there, With their naked flowers trailing, as if to capture the attention of wanderers in pursuit of beauty.

On reflection, these subtle hints of the wondrous appearance of the river-bank seemed Designed to distract even the rapt attention of the one seeking the riddle of a name. Kinnara birds* and swallows flew down to it. Some became entangled in the reeds* after bathing there, longing* to find a resting place to share.

Herons swam in formation in the water, some standing there like mendicant monks, Preening their feathers* as an excuse for looking intently* into the holes of the mud-eels. Merrily, the warblers twittered incessantly, then went off together in pairs, flying into the air. The peacocks fell silent, content to go on dancing and remain in the water.

The prince became more and more delighted when he saw That pure and crystal-clear mountain stream, And so, drawing near to bathe his face, He descended to the depths of that flawless river.

There he performed the most excellent, paramount ritual gestures, Praying to the Lord of One Thousand Rays, the Sun. Together with the recitation of esoteric formulas,* his meditation Penetrated to the highest* inconceivable truth.

As the excellent Phalguṇa was praying, his mind calm and undisturbed, tranquil and pure,* A gigantic, mighty crocodile, guardian of the river, suddenly appeared. Its presence there was the reason that no-one* came near and that it was so deserted, But now it caught the fragrant scent of the noble Pārtha.

Immediately, its ferocity awakened, for it was wild with hunger, Burning with savage frenzy, so long had it been without food. There it was spanning* the river, its mouth open wide, its fangs protruding sideways, And protuberances* all over its face, so that it resembled the terrifying and awesome [demon] Rāhu.

It saw the prince, undaunted and confident, Awaiting its attack. Swiftly it drew near,* but just as it was about to pounce, He too advanced steadily, joined with it, Spinning around and feinting fearlessly.

Swiftly, loudly, they clashed, keeping each other constantly in view, and as they came to grips, The river seemed to open wide, its waters rising up and crashing down. As if it were being stirred, it eddied in the centre, mud spewed forth, As if they were scooping it up as they assailed each other, angrily attacking.

In violent commotion, they circled each other, lunging unexpectedly, grappling tirelessly, never weakening, Skilfully and confidently attacking each other from all sides, without fear. In turn they grabbed at each other, clawed at each other, locked in the battle of their furious assault, Sometimes dancing about each other in their struggle, then joining once again in combat.

It seemed their struggle would never end, when, suddenly,* the crocodile looked to be worsted, Momentarily off-guard, as Arjuna quickly seized it and spun it around as if it were weightless. He dashed it down swiftly* upon a sharp rock, breaking its jaw, Its neck* snapped and thus it was rendered powerless by Phalguṇa.

With that, the prince hauled it to the surface of the earth. He looked in amazement upon its appearance in death. For he thought himself bewitched, as he gazed upon a heavenly nymph. Indeed, he could only think that this dead monster was strikingly beautiful.

An uninterrupted rain of flowers fell on the prince; Buzzing bees circled him, moving from flower to flower.* Such was the gift of homage that fell at the feet of Phalguṇa And the prince, deeply gratified, sought an explanation.

Then the heavenly nymph spoke out. ‘Indeed, I, your servant, am a celestial being, An attendant of the renowned Dhanādhipa. My name is none other than Sarwadā.*

‘I also have four beautiful sisters, nymphs all, Who wandered with me in search of pleasures. We came to the district of Alakāwatī, To the garden of the gods, the beautiful Amarāwatī.*

‘There a great seer was performing powerful yoga, Undertaking religious austerities, without equal in the three worlds. But we then disturbed his meditation, As if driven to it by some evil force.

‘In his anger he cast a curse upon us: “Hey! You who scorn me! May you become wicked crocodiles, desiring only to kill the creatures of the world!” Having cursed us thus, he then vanished, Leaving us confused and heart-sore.

‘We then moved swiftly off in search of a river. When we came to Awindhya, we came upon him again. Together we fell at his feet and paid homage to him, Begging him in his mercy to grant us a counter-curse.*

‘Since he cared for the welfare of others and was of patient mind, Compassionate, because we had bowed down before him, expressing our submission, He bestowed upon us the blessing of his mercy and granted us the gift of a limit to the curse, So that we might once again become pure beings.

‘ “Resign yourselves! Soon it will come to pass That one called Pārtha, the son of Pāṇḍu, Will come journeying here.* He will draw you from the water, and you will again become divine.”

‘With those words he went on his way. We set out together to seek a secluded place to dwell. Later we came here to the River Swabhadra And became these vile crocodiles.

‘Many ages have we spent in despair, Always starving, with nothing to eat, barely alive and weakened. Deer, serpents - any that came here to drink the water - Surely died, as we killed, destroyed, devoured.

‘And so we never saw a living soul. Feared by all, the enemy of all here, Becoming hungrier and hungrier in our pitiable, miserable condition* Brought low by the overpowering force of our wicked, impure hearts.

‘But now that you are here, my dream has been fulfilled. Through you, I am again a nymph. Incomparable and boundless is my debt to you, For you have drawn me out of the misery of hell.*

‘Forgive me! If you consider it proper, Would you now go on to rescue my sisters, For they have been left languishing sorrowfully, And are all waiting in the river?’

Thus said the celestial woman to the noble Pārtha. The prince was willing to accede to her gentle words. Setting off* with the heavenly nymph, They travelled swiftly, without stopping to rest.

They came to the beautiful but inaccessible pools where the other crocodiles lived. There he lifted them up and released them all. They were delighted to be nymphs once again, And all paid homage to the noble son of Pāṇḍu.

‘O Lord Pārtha! Virtuously you strive for the welfare of the world. You are indeed our protector, possessed of sanctifying power. Truly you are Wiṣṇu incarnate And the glow of your virtue fills the three worlds.’

Thus they spoke. The prince was delighted: ‘O nymphs! How could I fail in my purpose? It was only the proper dharma* of a man of virtue in this world That I have followed, in taking upon myself* the burden of your sorrow.

It was not for silver, gold, jewels or profit That I rescued you from your time of trouble. It befits a kṣatriya warrior to ensure no cruelty befalls the world. He should strive only to devote himself to such meritorious deeds.’

Thus said the excellent Pārtha in explanation. It was as if the heavenly nymphs had been sprinkled with the water of life, For they had received his most exalted favour, And did not know how to repay such kindness that was as great as Mount Meru.

‘We have enjoyed your unbounded favour, Our debt is without limit, never can we [repay it].* May you be unimpeded, my lord, in obtaining your desires and the victory you seek! You are indeed the refuge of the defenceless, O protector of the earth!’

Many were their praises of Prince Pārtha. We will not tell of them. Having taken leave of him, They departed without delay and, in a flash, flew away together into the sky, Towards heaven. But we will say no more of this.

Pārtha was left alone, love-lorn and weak with desire, Prey to his emotions as he stared up into the heavens, totally bemused. His heart missed a sudden beat as he caught the sound of distant thunder, There in the west, for it seemed like the voices of those heavenly women.

For a long time he sat in contemplation. When the sun had gone down It became even more still there on the bank of the river. Gently* it whispered [to him] as he watched the eddying stream. ‘I have been purified,’ it rippled, in proof that its waters* were free of danger.

Now we will tell of the members of his escort who came running up at the double, Competing with each other to be first there, trying to overtake each other. With great merriment and in high spirits, some engaged in ferocious hand-to hand-combat, So eager were they to hear about the heavenly women.

And so the prince waited there. But we will tell now of the great ascetics of the hermitage. All who lived in the vicinity of the Swabhadra river Had heard of the removal of the danger from their holy bathing place.

They were so delighted to be afraid no longer, That they quickly set off together to go* at once to the noble one. Coming upon the excellent Pārtha resting there, They were astounded by his splendid appearance.

Arjuna greeted the arrival of the hermits with great respect And sat politely, legs crossed, quiet and tranquil. The sages* said: ‘How fortunate it is that you have come here now To the Swabhadra, the lovely abode of we hermits.*

‘And we say to you, O Prince, that by your actions in coming to these wooded mountains, What you have accomplished is truly great.* You are the recourse of us who strive. Your victory in this world is clearly ordained by the gods. Indeed, we believe that you will obtain your goal and all that you strive for.’

Thus said the seers. The prince replied sincerely, ‘As you look so kindly, Sirs, on one such as I, May I be the sacrifice for you whose aim is to perform virtuous deeds, In your wish to be free of the karma of the three worlds.’

These were his words. Thereupon, in homage they brought him Water to wash his feet, water to rinse his mouth, such as is due to a guest, as well as betel leaf and nut, And medicinal herbs, not to mention delicious fruits and tubers. All were offered to him by the anchoresses with all requisite ceremony.

They were amazed just to look upon the noble Pārtha. ‘How extraordinary he is! He is the god of Love who has come here to earth, With the purpose of hunting out beauty, consuming us with fire, Spitefully destroying our vows and meditation,’ they thought.

Then the groups of hermits all decreed That Pārtha should immediately be honoured by the seers* themselves. When he had been thus honoured,* he became even more content And after a while the great abbot again spoke:

‘O Prince! You are our most excellent refuge, Protecting all the monks and their kin. Because none but you has the gift of your virtuous nature* We have witnessed* your triumph as you have attained your desires.

‘And yet I will offer you my insignificant advice, if you will but listen. As long as happiness increases, then difficulties will be suffered. The origin of the love of others is invisible and therefore it is eternal. It is thus the most important thing, the foremost embodiment of dharma.*

‘For this [love] alone, you should truly search the depths of the self,* Just as the foremost champion in battle always* fosters unity, So that proper conduct ensues and thereby increases, And his enemies, therefore, cannot attack.

‘It is no different in the three worlds than in your body. There can be no hostility because of kindness and freedom from passion. Neither enemies from within nor without can assail you. And you can be wholly unconstrained* and free from danger in obtaining your desires.’

Thus was the form of the doctrine that he expounded* so properly. Dhanañjaya welcomed it, For indeed its sentiments were truly appropriate. In short this was their discussion. But we will say no more of it.

Night fell and the excellent and noble Pārtha spent it There in the hermitage, the ascetics,* Full of laughter and delight discussed* how the prosperity of the hermitage Had been magically altered by the prince’s supernatural potency.

The prince enjoyed staying there in the place that had been prepared for him In an open pavilion, bright, clean and well-appointed. In his private quarters, he was again fêted, For the community of ascetics was not yet ready to retire.

In every respect the enchanting hermitage, so still and lovely, was delightful, With the moon adding the lustre* of its pale, gleaming rays Like a lamp shining down upon the lights of the hermitage. The wafting fragrance of the lovely areca blossoms permeated everywhere.

Disturbed and stirred by the delightful sighing of the ivory bamboo swaying in the cooling breeze, The bees sobbed in their holes with muffled song, Beset by love-sickness now that night had come and they were separated* from the aśoka and tañjung flowers, Arousing feelings of tender emotion in the prince’s heart.

The seers discoursed happily on many matters And the prince, Phalguṇa, was delighted to join in, Now that the heavenly women had been restored to their true nature. But we will not tell of the night. It quickly passed.

The following morning, the prince went from there. His journey along the forest paths* will not be recounted. He came to Mayūra, where he was greeted with joy, By all the delighted women of the palace.

On his return he lived in contentment with his wife in the palace for a long time. The whole country was overwhelmed by perfect joy, And the king was transported with delight because of Arjuna.

We will pass over how they came together in harmony in joyous love-making. They brought into the world a child, a model of comeliness and virtue, The excellent Wabhruwāhana, who was presented [to the king] by his father.*

The king then performed the many excellent rituals prescribed, Overjoyed to obtain this jewel of the ocean. Such was the king’s happiness.

None other than the prince himself occupied the hearts of the whole court, particularly those of the inner appartments. They wished to serve him alone, For they looked to him to be the protector of the world.

Their former sorrow was best described* as that of blades of grass, Withering as they hoped for rain to fall from the clouds. Now, deluged with rain, they were truly bursting with new life.

All the royal domains, even the rural districts, were perfect. All were prosperous, no longer over-shadowed, So radiant, they seemed to outshine the sun and the moon.

Long would be the telling of the joy throughout the land. Our account now turns again to the prince, Who kept constantly in mind the advice of the great ascetic.

Furthermore, the end of the eleventh year had almost arrived, And so he again prepared to move on, His resolute heart unwavering.

The prince took his beloved in his arms and addressed her with consoling words, Telling her of his certain promise, That in the future he would return to serve her.*

The excellent princess, fully understanding his intention, was untroubled Indeed, she never deviated from the teachings of highest truth, Unwilling to transgress [what is expected of] a beautiful woman.*

So, worthy princess that she was, she did not demur, Unable to entertain evil thoughts, Even if ordered to undertake lowly work.

So Dhanañjaya appeared in the presence of the king to take his leave. The king offered no opposition, For he was truly a virtuous and honest man, a worthy example to the world.

In short, after he had sought leave to depart he went from the palace straight away. He walked without haste along the path, relaxed and totally absorbed in beauty. He was filled with wonder at the sight of all the scenic beauties of the country-side, which seemed never to weary of trying to detain him, holding themselves in readiness* for him. Standing ready in the hope that they would catch sight of him, they waited overhead.

Both sides of the path seemed to have spread out their charms for his sideways glance. So astounded were they, and so oppressed with grief when he passed them by, that they could only stand there. As if disturbed and despondent, the red flowers of the flame tree sighed and trembled when he ignored them. Tossing restlessly, the bamboos swayed back and forth, exhausted as the wind beat them and they knocked against each other.

There was a settlement of great splendour, its many buildings scattered here and there, the pathways knowing how to give pleasure. Its carefully tended beauty was its gift of welcome if any should happen by. Along the edge was a pure mountain stream, encircling the sides of the square, Where women went to draw water from the bathing pools, while others immersed themselves,* all were beautiful to behold.

It certainly seemed as if they wanted to conceal themselves within an encircling ring of relatives.* Their graceful movements were accompanied by the enchanting tabours, sweetly keeping tune with the kangsi. How tantalizing* they were as they adorned themselves with flowers, the flower ornaments in their hair bands were beautifully arranged, But as they made their flower offerings, they became agitated at seeing the splendid prince as he passed by.

How delightful were the charms that the prince beheld as he went on his way. There was a row of springs, with fountains cascading down to form a crystal-clear pond, A place where fresh lotuses gathered to form an encircling wall which, like the face of a beautiful girl, overflowed with sweetness, Their beauty constantly veiled by the spray of the water which covered them like fragrant powder.

The outer walls were magnificent, perfect in design and construction. The walls of the storehouses* within were made of bricks and merged into the enclosing parapet with its towering gateways. Wholly unconstrained, fronds of slender bhujanggapuṣpa beckoned excitedly, As the wind continually pestered them wickedly, and they tossed and waved.

As if to ornament the radiant beauty of the jring, the beautiful wəlas-harəp creeper was like a cloth of gold.* Showing themselves in all their richness, the magnificent red lotuses* were skilled at enticing* the lovely umbrella-pandanus [to open]. The bees took flight as if, now they were no longer able to caress or ravish the flowers, they had come to a sudden stop, filled with great disappointment, And seemed to lose heart as the wind, telling them of charms of the jasmine, pushed them roughly aside.

Moreover, the lovely marsh-land enhanced the splendour of the scene depicted. Its charms seemed to long to accompany the prince on his journey, and reached out to draw near him. Looking down, he could see the delightful banks where pandanus, pendant with flowers, grew along the edges And a rich profusion of radiant śatapatra lotuses opened out their shimmering petals and beckoned to the bees.

The banks, where surāga and rājasa flowers blossomed,* were like a flower-strewn bed-chamber. The campaka were downcast, their display* to no avail because they had not yet been plucked by a wanderer in pursuit of beauty. Abandoned thus, they resigned themselves to their yearning, for no poet, eloping with his beloved, had come there to pick them, So that they were now willing to die and let their beauty slip away, by allowing their flowers to surrender their lives and float down, wilting, into the water.

It would take too long to tell of the path or of the prince’s thoughts if we were to continue. He went quickly on his way. We will not tell of the time he spent surrendering himself to beauty. Soon after, he came to the shore,* where great beauty is ever to be found. So vast were its bright waters, that they seemed to merge on the horizon with the sky, then vanish from sight.

The shore-line brought him transports of delight, With its beautiful inlets, so enchanting. A river of clear water Seemed to present its beauty as a gift to the ocean.

Birds wandered about in search of food* on the water’s edge. Some were white, and, as they meandered everywhere,* Stretching in a line, moving together in a row, They were like jasmine flowers, worn in unbound tresses.

Like the unloosened ties of a kain were the ripple marks of the waves on the sand. Happily, the lovely himi-himi crabs rested there, Suddenly waving their pincers rapidly to and fro As they scuttled away, burrowing down into the sand as the waves* receded.

On an outcrop of glistening coral reef, Crabs were exposed and lay there clinging. Throngs* of mussels hung there, Shining emerald-green* in the sun’s radiant light.

The many prawns, entrenched on the rocks, Frightened away the birds who were eyeing them. Some came soaring through the air, wanting to land there, But they tried in vain to swoop down, for they were so startled, they flew off again in a flash.

In great numbers, fish leapt up, thrown high in the air. One after the other they burst forth, darting to and fro. The porpoises and grey mullet, colliding, Made the little fish dart away* as they hurtled down on top of them.

Waves rolled in, crashing down As if they had been tossed aside and hurled away by a huge timi fish.* Strands of seaweed* lay strewn about on all sides, Like embroidered silk, decorating the wet sand.

Wave after wave crashed onto the shore Suddenly giving off a rain-bearing mist, Creating a shimmering rainbow That extended, jewel-bright, as far as the eye could see.

Shellfish and mussels* of many sorts were scattered here and there On shining fronds* spread like mats. As the waves receded, they clattered,* trying to outdo each other, Scraping continuously against the rocks in violent commotion.

The foothills of the mountain were delightful. They extended far into the ocean’s maw. In the deep recesses of their caves, Rock swallows slipped away, flying off together.

Far away in the distance was an island, Barely visible in the middle of the ocean. How attractively it rose up, A target for the veiling mist that enshrouded it so delightfully.

A line of boats, their sails set, Dazzling white, seemed to beckon, Telling of the riches they bore, As they floated before the wind* on a voyage for treasure.

Fishing boats* were everywhere, many far out in the middle of the ocean. Some, their decks at a precarious angle,* were being rowed. But others had overturned and, in distress, were being spun around and around By monstrous fish, as huge as mountains.

The roaring ocean rumbled loudly As if to summon a poet to compose a poem, Gracefully billowing, as if in restless torment, To welcome Prince Pārtha joyfully.

All he saw on his journey along the seashore was beautiful. Moreover, as the sun rode over the western mountain, it took his breath away. Rising clouds of spray from the salters working on the banks of the river mouth, Evaporated, merging into the ocean haze, like lovers in intimate* meeting.

There were rice fields and plantations of cotton trees in landscaped gardens. As if uncertain of their charms, they presented the delights of their embankments to him. A multitude of pasung* milled together in welcome and flew in wave upon wave into the air, Leaving behind the crabs that stood so still they were hardly distinguishable in the roots of the piḍaḍa tree.*

Herons flying homeward* side-by-side like strings of beads across the sky, Were seeking a place to roost, for it had now become gloomy and cold. The sunbeams had just begun to lose their splendour in the ocean mist, In a flaming, bright red-gleaming bank of wispy clouds, like showering sparks.

Then, from the inlets along the rocky coast in the distance, came the faint glow Of firelight that flared up with a burst of bright sparks. They looked like the reddened eyes* of a girl, languishing and forlorn, when overpowered on the couch, Or perhaps they were proclaiming that there was a village there, where travellers might spend a night by the shore.

As the sun set, the trees shook visibly in the cold. Now they had cast off the veiling mist of the ocean, they seemed truly downcast. On the eighth day of the dark half of the moon, when, in the middle of the night, the moon came out displaying itself in its fullness, He went on his journey again, after spending several nights sojourning there.

In Prabhasa, the prince came upon a flawless and pure river, Its mighty waters flowing pure and bright, renowned for their purificatory powers, the very water of life. This was the holy bathing place of the Yadu kingdom and none was more famous, For it was as peerless as the moonstone,* the source of the world’s creation.

There the noble Dhanañjaya tarried a while and made his way along the banks. Delightedly following the course of the Prabhasa, he then journeyed westward. He was entranced by the sight of all its delights that so assuaged* his weary heart, And ever welcomed him as he passed by, hoping he would linger.

Truly flawless was the river’s array, quite extraordinary its delights. Many fallen and faded flowers,* left by those who came there to pray, had been abandoned there on the waves. Because of the unguents and saffron mixed together, it was always fragrant And members of the court came there daily, to bathe joyfully.

Indeed, its splendid snake-rock eclipsed the coral reefs of the ocean. One rock completely covered by roots, looked like an elephant with a trunk.* All who roamed about in pursuit of beauty, carried away on the tide of passion, made their way there, And it was ever the destination of lovers, planning a secret rendezvous, stealing away quietly together to its banks.

On either side, pandanus blossomed delightfully along the banks. Beautiful to behold were the trailing flowers, some with petals half opened. When the bees sought them out, ensnared* by their fragrant pollen, They, like maidens overcome by heat,* were deflowered by them at will.

No more will be said about the prince. Instead we will tell of Lord Kr̥ṣṇa. On hearing that Pārtha, most excellent of princes, was there, he was delighted, And immediately commanded the noble Sāmba to go and invite the son of Pāṇḍu to visit. The Yadu warriors, mounted on horses, elephants and chariots, a strong guard attending them, provided the escort.

On his arrival, Sāmba approached the son of Pāṇḍu to greet him warmly, Saying, ‘Indeed, His Majesty invites you to come* to his court. Oh how happy is Kr̥ṣṇa and how delighted Baladewa too, Not to mention the entire Yadu tribe, all are overjoyed to hear [news] of you.

‘The king is presently on Mount Raiwata’s peak* Performing ceremonies in honour of Wiṣṇu,* holding a great feast and carrying out the royal rites. Not a single Yadu has stayed behind at home, all are there, performing sacrifices and every ritual prescribed. Thus may you bear patiently with him that he is not in his palace.’

Thus the excellent, noble Sāmba addressed him respectfully. Dhanañjaya accepted, And they set out together, mounted in a chariot with all the Yadu hosts in attendance. Carefree and handsome were those who escorted them, all magnificent, And so the excellent Phalguṇa made his way to the mountain called Raiwata[ka].

We will tell of the restlessness of the women throughout the land who, like flower-buds awaiting the sound of thunder, Had just now heard news of the prince’s arrival, that was to them like the harbinger of the fourth month. The concealed desire of these jewel-like women of the inner court suddenly blossomed forth and now showed outwardly. They did not know what to do, and unable to escape from their yearning, unable to forget what they had heard, were struck down by love.

Smitten by the new arrival, some plotted to ready their sweetness [for him]. Others talked together, discussing him in soft whispers. So deeply* affected, cut to the very core of their being were they, that the mere mention of him aroused their desire, And they wanted to spread* a mat of flowers from their hair-knots before him, as a token* of their love.

There were some who were so love-sick they thought only of love-making, their thoughts directed to him alone. Swooning, they longed fervently for his words of love to assuage the pain of their desire and bewilderment. So eager were they, they cast their beautiful bodies on the ground, that the sweetness of his glance might fall on them as rain, Heedless of the pain if it should pierce them through, happy to face the dangers of defeat at his hands.

It would take too long to recount the thoughts of the court ladies, suffering from love pangs. Pārtha then reached King Harimūrti, there at the meeting place where the Yadu tribe had gathered. Foremost amongst them was Lord Baladewa. All were drawn up in formation, in the middle of the arena, A place of perfect brilliance because of the splendour of the god-like Yadus.

Arjuna’s arrival filled Kr̥ṣṇa’s heart with such elation That he welcomed him accordingly with heart-warming smiles and kindly words: ‘Dear brother, I can hardly believe that I may now come face to face with your world-conquering glory. Receive this throne my dear brother, that I have laid ready for you in your absence.

‘For some time I have kept watch over you, my dear, and have come to hear of your deeds as you have striven, To dwell continuously on the Hima mountain. How fortunate that we now should meet. The gods decree: “Remember also the difficulties of those who know pleasure and are not afflicted with calamity.”* Stay here in Dwārawatī, let it be your temporary home until the appointed time elapses and you can again return home.’

Thus said Lord Kr̥ṣṇa. The prince bowed low at his feet: ‘If it please you,* Your Majesty, in truth it is you who are truly the foremost bestower of favours. Hail to you,* O righteous one!’ This he said. In turn Halāyudha said respectfully to him: ‘O my dear brother, indeed all the Yadus have certainly long awaited you.

‘Your presence, my brother, will ensure that the rites which the Yadus now perform, will accomplish their aim perfectly. Please agree to take part so that through your participation, the welfare of the world will be assured.* By this alone can our journey be considered complete and enable us to return to the palace. Indeed, I will then accompany you home, my brother, as indeed will Kr̥ṣṇa.’*

Having spoken thus, Baladewa’s words were endorsed by the Yadu tribe. And treated thus, the prince’s heart blossomed like a lotus at the urging of gentle rain: ‘Truly your words are fitting. May I, Your Majesty’s servant, continue to receive the special favour I have obtained! Indeed in your protection may I find the means by which my quest for virtue may succeed!’

The Yadus were all happy to agree, none was averse to Arjuna’s presence, And welcomed the prince, as a guest, in every way he deserved. It would take too long to tell of this. Shortly after, as the sun set, the eighth hour* rang out. The radiant glow of the clouds, coloured brightly with beams of light like golden ornaments, gave way to night.

Lord Kr̥ṣṇa withdrew to his quarters, in company with the prince who loved him so. Their spirits were as one, their affection deep and so they moved off to his private suite there in the camp. Shortly afterwards peace descended on all the Yadu tribe and on Dhanañjaya. ‘It is just as the mist reaches the waters of the ocean,’ he thought.

Let us say no more of the kings but tell now of the palace ladies. They were teased by longing now that the waning moon had altered the appearance of the night. The stars moved away to hide, just as a distressed girl, with side-long glances, turns her face away. Geese in flight, distant specks in the sky, that seemed to be eloping together, came to alight on a beautiful pond.

Abandoned, despondent and melancholy, the bees waited in their holes, distressed now that they had been robbed of their desire, For the lotuses were no longer open. How cruel their actions,* for they were almost full-grown. Mournfully, the cuckoos lamented that the moon had not yet come to succour them in their love-sickness that evening, Forlorn and trembling because it was the ninth day of the dark half-month and the moon had not yet risen.

Moreover, the distant thunder seemed to summon whispered verses close to their ears. The sighing breeze bearing sweet fragrance to them was like the secret messenger of one waiting to elope. Suddenly the moon shone down brightly, to reveal itself in its full glory, as it rose high over the mountain peak, As if delighted to look down on the beauty of the women, happily applying powder* in the inner court.

How lovely they were as they adorned their hair-knots with aśoka and sumanasa flowers, happily putting on their ornaments. As they chatted together in the light of the moon, some were plaiting combs in their hair. Merely to speak of the pursuit of pleasure and the enjoyment of beauty, filled them with desire, And because of their unrestrained longing and their sweetness, the very sight of the moon swept them away with passion.

These beautiful women were skilled at expressing a poet’s passionate love in allusions. It was only right that maidens so fair should not seek to hide the charm of their salukat playing in singing kidung. Because their skills were renowned throughout the land it seemed to enhance their sweetness as they accompanied themselves on the kangsi. And not only that, for in their lute playing, the beauty of the ocean of honey* came surging forth.

The women enhanced their charm and beauty by all having mastered thoroughly the art of poetry, Their recitations became even more captivating, as the strummed lute accompanied* those sweet-voiced singers. Their playing seemed to be stolen liquid syrup and melted honey from a broken dish,* Mixed with moonbeams, so that their gaməlan playing caused utter enchantment.

Others, filled with love, were talking quietly in sweet discussion. Such easy prey for the God of Love were they, that their hearts were the target of passionate desires. Her feelings of love leaving her weak,* one girl went to lie down with a kakawin scribbled on a pandanus leaf. As she read her poem aloud by the light of the moon, she was so painfully affected that in trying to keep secret* her longing, she fainted away.

Yet the one who held sway over the subtle form of fragrant beauty, a goddess of letters in human form, Was Subhadrā, the younger sister of Baladewa, now the fairest of maidens. Indeed the beauty of this precious jewel of the palace was so renowned That the very incarnation of liquid honey would return to seek help from her charms.

The lovely women who lived in the royal palace were enchanting as they disported in the moonlight. With a deluge of charm, as they skilfully sang songs containing allusions and played gaməlan, they were indeed as beautiful as heavenly women. For the princess alone, they always composed with great devotion, songs That were as lively and charming as the ocean overflowing with the rains of the fourth month.

Without doubt, these court maidens were truly possessed of the greatest sweetness, But the charms of the princess were without peer, she alone held beauty. Just as the alluring lotus, opening up, reflects the glow of moonbeams, Her beauty was enhanced by her adornments and all who gazed upon it seemed to lose themselves in rapture.

At the fourth stroke of midnight, the lovely women were still happily disporting there, But the princess, lulled by their gaməlan playing, had become sleepy. A couch was arranged for her beneath a fragrant spreading wungū tree, Beautifully entwined with the shoots of the cinnamon tree and strewn on all sides was fragrant* jasmine.

There the princess, as beautiful as the Goddess of Love, Ratih, rested on the bed. Soothed by her beautiful surroundings, sleepiness crept over her and entered unseen into her heart. Blown about constantly by the wind, the boughs fluttered in the breeze, like waving fans. Soothingly and affectionately* the bees in their holes called out gently.*

The delightful murmuring of the garantung bamboo xylophones delightfully vied, in unbroken rhythm, with the thunder. Lovely and sweet was the music of the lutes as the women gracefully and languidly sang the introductory melody, As if to soothe and sing a lullaby to their lady, who slept there absorbed in dreams, For all the world like an offering of a maiden,* resting on a couch, inspiring devotion.

The enchantment of the night permeated everywhere. Moreover, the distant splashing of a waterfall could be heard unceasingly. The hammering of bark* suddenly sounded out and seemed to inspire feelings of longing, As its relentless, incessant beat urged lovers to elope.

Thunder rumbled softly like a lover’s sweet whispers, To make the buds of the flowers of the unəng creeper* split open and display themselves in their fullness. The areca palm blossoms unfurled to wound the hearts of the love-lorn mercilessly, The asanas, buffeted by the wind, spread their fragrant perfume on the breeze.

Such was the beauty and charm that it would fain set hearts atremble. Pārtha was not yet asleep for he was completely captivated. A breath of wind passing by brought him its cool freshness. He could hear the walik calling, its lament made him smile.*

Night passed and as day dawned, the world donned fresh clothing, As the asanas in the borders of the delightful hermitage opened. The sun whirled, spinning around in the water of the sea, Its golden rays shining brightly to dye the heavens in red light.

Birds twittered* in the branches, merrily calling out* to each other for joy of the day. Swarming bees buzzed backwards and forwards, resting on one flower* after another, like husbands* going from wife to wife. When it became light, the son of Pāṇḍu bathed and purified himself Before invoking the sun with the recitation of mantras and the prescribed rites.*

Assiduously, he sought the object of his prayers. His heart ever turned to the gods as he performed his worship. So too, Lord Kr̥ṣṇa devoted himself to reciting the mantras of kingship, Unfailingly striving for tranquillity, and, having adorned himself, was even more resplendent.

When they had both completed their ritual washing and recited their prayers, They came out together, standing ready there at the gateway. Their garments gleaming brightly shone like the newly-risen sun. Together, they were as resplendent as the sun riding on the highest point of the eastern mountain.

The Yadus were already assembled, their vassals all stood ready. Haladhara was bedecked with gleaming jewels. Incomparable was he, clearly a hero of immense presence. All the Wr̥ṣṇis and Andhakas stood together in rows in close formation.

Then they set out immediately, and came at last to the sanctuary,* Where all was faultlessly arranged, in great splendour. Standards fluttered gracefully on high,* a glittering mass,* Pennants swayed and pennons sparkled.*

As the Yadu troops noisily bustled about their tasks there in the hermitage, they filled it completely. The melodies, sounding out unceasingly,* were taken up* by the many singers. Then, filling every direction, - north, south, east and west, - with their sound, Drums banged and gongs and roñji* answered each other.

The commotion of so many Wr̥ṣṇis and Yadus became more and more tumultuous. They looked like an ocean of blossoming flowers in their brilliant festival attire, And it was especially the lovely women who created this beautiful scene, With the movement of their shapely eyebrows as sharp as slivers of gravel.*

The Yadu hosts added their increasing lustre to the radiance of the temple. It was as divine in appearance as the abode of the gods and its shrines were all-surpassing. Exquisite cloths - dukūla, manitra and kairatila* - all decoratively arranged, were draped everywhere, And, as if by magic, the garlands of cawəli silk seemed to be aflame.

Songs of praise* rang out and many different bells tinkled like buzzing bees circling beautiful flowers. All was enriched by the blaring of conches, vying with the resounding gubar gongs, As the chief priests softly and clearly recited prayers together, For the prosperity of the kingdom, that it might be without conflict* and all evil-doers vanquished.

After paying homage to the deities, the kings performed the flower-offering ceremonies at the shrine of Widhi.* The Yadus also all performed flower worship to Wiṣṇu, truly concentrating their thoughts upon him,* As he now descended to the most exquisite, golden pavilion,* for he was their paramount protector, Renowned on earth as the cause of the king’s most famous deeds.*

The festivities then took place, arranged with all-surpassing magnificence. Elated, the Yadus joined together in mock-combat, and moved into the attack, resplendently.* All who took part were skilled in the use of shields and in wielding javelins and hatchets. Their gleaming armour seemed ablaze as wave after wave attacked, becoming ever more dazzling.

Some looked their opponents defiantly in the eye. All were masters at alternately pushing forward then dodging skilfully. Standing upright together they exchanged lusty shouts,* for they had been well trained in the ways of battle. In their splendour, they were worthy bearers* of the gleaming jackets of honour and sparkling arm-bands.* The violence of their clashing drowned out* the constant roar of thundering gubar and paḍahi drums.

The decorations worn by those wild with drink were resplendent: their gleaming mail shone all the more fiercely. Their breasts all aglow from their clothes, some wore bright shining collars. With their arms stretched sideways, they took no notice of the actions of those who shouted at them. The attendants asked to bring them drinks of welcome, stopped, embarrassed by their jabbering.*

The spectators, the young gentlewomen and the children of the nobles who were famous for their goodness and refined manners, Though amused to see this, covered their lips with their hands demurely.* Truly enchanting were the brief glimpses of their sideways glances as they opened and closed their mouths in sweet laughter, And it seemed the gathering place of honey would be eclipsed by their open lips, fresh and red.

But we will not tell of them as, at sunset, it all came to an end. A great feast was then held by all the Yadus, in the centre of the arena.* Laid out in readiness were all the delicious produce of mountain, forest and sea, Which they ate with relish, their enjoyment enhanced by the entertainment offered by the musicians.

Because it had been arranged by the kings, Kr̥ṣṇa, Pārtha, Baladewa and Ugrasena, There seemed to be a thundering mountain torrent* of meat, drink and other delicacies. The kings had catered for every conceivable taste, And all became more and more intoxicated, overwhelmed with drinks of fermented spirits* and rum.

Thus was the form of the worship they performed,* most prominent amongst them* all the Wr̥ṣṇi heroes. But we will not tell of this. After they had finished eating, all had been made content by the king’s bounty, Not to mention the Wr̥ṣṇi troops who were replete with food and drink. Becoming ever more joyful and merry, they took their leisure and caroused in their quarters.

In the cool of the evening Baladewa went off in search of beauty. Lord Kr̥ṣṇa following behind, they set off from the royal quarters. With Pārtha at his side, riding with him in the same chariot, Clearly they were indeed, as splendid as Wiṣṇu* and the God of Love, both irresistible in form.

The valiant Wr̥ṣṇis and Andhakas also went off to seek out different pleasures,* each according to their desire. There were some who headed for the hermitage to reflect on the beauty of the banks of the river* and deep craggy gullies. Others went to secluded parts of the forest, in search of a place to be alone and gaze out over the distant ocean, While others went hunting, gaily cooking and eating [their catch in] a floating water-pavilion.*

Even more magnificent was the princess as she departed,* indeed, she was a painting come to life. Riding in a chariot on a throne of gold, she was as beautiful as the embodiment of all the deities of the month of spring, Displaying charms that seemed to come forth from the realm of dreams to thrust aside all other sensory delights. Her escort of warriors, standing fully-equipped on either side, was as resplendent as a foot-guard of gods.

The ladies of the court were like flower buds opening up, their joyful hearts full of high spirits. Their attendants and handmaidens competed with each other to gather the largest bunches of blossoming flowers. Many rode in covered palanquins of gold, others in black ones with golden parasols, Which looked like bees in search of flowers, their colours muted* by a misty veil of fragrant, unfurling pandanus.

As if to restrain their tendrils from longing* to capture the hearts of the people passing by, The supple creepers, newly unfurling, languidly hung down, limp with desire. Lovingly, the lovely sanggākaśa creeper seemed to embrace the beautiful clusters of blossoms, filled with passion. Moreover so thick were its tendrils that the area around was cast in shadow and gave forth fragrance to accompany them.*

Like an aigrette of gold, the karṇikāra, displaying the charm of its blossom for the first time, was radiant. Its young leaves* moved restlessly, stretching out in all directions as if they had no desire for the fragrant gaḍung. They seemed to sway continuously, shying away from the embrace of the young shoots growing along the ground. Dallying there was a wood-cock, flapping his wings, with his wife below, his constant companion.

Then the trees rustling with expectant pleasure* in the soft breeze That brings with it the rain of the fourth month, were delighted to be visited by such beautiful love-sick maidens, and invited them to come near. The mango and mangosteen, rambutan, wadara,* wuni, and paḍali were heavily laden, their flowers and fruits all laid ready for them, And the maids, gathering the fruits of the trees along the many paths, were delightful.

As they picnicked there, how enchanting they were. The astounding sight of such extraordinary beauty was sure to quicken the pulse, For, in great delight, they had lifted their hems as they sought pleasure, enhancing their loveliness still more, Exposing their slender calves, that, as they peeped from underneath their kains, were like ivory pandanus flowers. It was only fitting that the sight of them would make the desire and passion of any lover catch in his throat,* overpower and destroy him.

The forest, carpeted with flowers, rivalled the design of a palace, its blooms drawn up in floral battle formations everywhere. The women were the female warriors* attacking them together, inevitably destroying them as they seized them. Indeed they were lions in battle, like bees thrusting eagerly, wanting only to be one* with the fragrant flowers. And so they all joined in laying waste the flowers,* carrying them off by force, plucking them all without pause.

There were many whose thoughts had turned to love-making and, without further ado, they ornamented their beauty as they walked along. Wholly unconstrained, they arranged tendrils of the aśoka as love-tokens* in their hair, the pollen enveloping them in its fragrance. Śridanta and wungu were the ornaments they used as sashes and necklaces delightfully adorning themselves. One could only surmise that in their beauty was the alluring sweetness of a sister to love* seeking out pleasure.

We will tell of Lord Kr̥ṣṇa and Pārtha, As in leisurely manner, they made their way along the mountain ridge, Looking down on the beauty of the hill below, Its charms clearly lying ready to view.

Pure, sparkling waters splashed down over the ravine, The many streams forming a pond of great beauty. The glistening water plants thus bespattered Were indeed like a treasure trove of countless jewels and gems there.

Another crystal-clear brook spilled down the hill. A waterfall could be distinctly heard tumbling straight down into the ravine. There in the deep gully it roared like thunder, Resounding more loudly than the gubar and gəṇḍing drums at the great festival.

Moreover its sparkling, glinting droplets Were scattered and strewn about on every side, As if to bid them welcome with reverential salutations Constantly* paying them homage, or so they thought.

Lord Arjuna was delighted when he saw How the mountain seemed to hold itself in readiness. Peacocks crowed on the hills along the mountain ridges And the kamanak* together answered each other.

The soft buzzing of bees, charmingly lost in contemplation of beautiful flowers, Could be heard all along the path, Sipping nectar like priests Conferring blessings of praise on the two of them as they passed.

Moreover, the casuarinas blowing about in the wind, rustled, Whispering gently as if to attract their attention. Faintly, softly, the turtle doves provided the accompaniment In counterpoint to the melodious voices of the pakṣi kətur birds.

The shoots of the wəlas-hyun creeper were beautifully intertwined* With the fragrant palms,* quite inseparable. The widely spread branches of the trees hung low, And the water lilies, from kindness, seemed to keep them afloat.*

Moreover, there was over-hanging prabhu sanmata there, With its creepers unfurling on all sides to screen* the thickets. Charmingly showing itself in its full richness, the ripened wuni Skilfully split its sharp blackened points into four.

Mount Raiwata[ka] was truly beautiful And Janārdana spoke of it thus: ‘Here is the fixed abode* of God Wiṣṇu, None other than the place of refuge of the people of Dwārawatī.

‘The Yadus therefore always strive To ensure that proper worship flourishes and respectfully pay homage here, Sedulously intent on their aim of furthering the welfare of the realm, And from its protection comes its certain prosperity.’

Thus said Kr̥ṣṇa to Dhanañjaya, Filling the prince’s heart with strength. Therefore he set off happily Along the winding valley path through the ravine.

The dense bamboo that lined the narrow path, Was shaken and bent back by the gentle breeze. The plants had deliberately opened up to expose their centres And when they were pushed over, they seemed to sink down with a rustle.

Steep slopes and precipices came right up to the verges. Gəsing and pətung bamboos rose up side by side, Sheaths unfurled to expose their half-closed eyes, blinking Their scratchy shoots,* all ready for the attack.

It would take too long to tell of them passing by the thickets. With each step they encountered beauty. As they gazed up at the mountain, its splendour seemed magical, Its charm as a pleasure spot quite unsurpassed.

They could see the women of the inner court enjoying the scenery there, all as beautiful as figures in a painting. As they delightfully cut flower-sprays, displaying their charms anew,* how resplendent they were. They looked like sculpted diamonds as they abandoned themselves to the pursuit of pleasure all joyfully disporting, themselves, Their charms those of the Goddess of Beauty herself, newly emerging in bodily form from a profusion of flowers.

A garden of beautiful women were they, akin to asana flowers that have just come to intimate union* with the river. Some were adorning themselves, looking at their reflections in the water whilst arranging their hair-knots with bouquets of flowers. Others dangled their legs in the water to cool themselves, as if to avoid* the gushing torrent, Attractively exposing their slender waists, fit to pierce the kangsi* of the God of Love.

These beautiful ladies were like a painting come to life, their glances, when they looked sideways, sweet enough To cause intense love-pangs and burning desire. Their hair bands were as perfect and smooth as dark clouds. Their graceful limbs were bedecked with armlets and garlands made from asana flowers and wəlas-harəp creepers, Like a collection of beauty created by the God of Love, glimpsed for but a moment of passion, by a poet.

One girl, lost in rapt contemplation of* the far ocean, would awaken feelings of love As if, at the decree of the Muse, her loveliness was not of this world, but must merge into the letters [of a poem]. Unperturbed as her waist broke free of the embrace of its bands, and suddenly loosened, To expose [her breasts] like ivory coconuts a little, she was enough to inundate* even the senses of an ascetic who has already attained detachment.

Another there was whose refined beauty was so like that of the campaka flower that it was only proper she be reserved for the God of Love. As she held on her lap a pandanus flower, her calves seemed driven to expose themselves as if they were the reason for the rain. How beautiful she was as she wrote on the doll of petals cradled in her lap, inscribing it with her sharp nails,* Sitting restfully leaning on one arm on the rock, then turning her attention to the beauties of nature in the stream in the gully.

Yet another rested charmingly on a couch of rock as she pictured in her mind the petal-doll coming to life.* Fragrant leaves and jasmine were her mattress as she sat absorbed in the vastness* of the beautiful sky. Her skin was golden, her uncovered waist as supple as the new shoots of the aśoka, Which would clearly wither, if she were approached on that couch by an ardent lover.

The beautiful female attendants transported beauty there, as they amused themselves, their charms surpassing* those of flower buds. Exuberantly they sought sweet delight. All had been blessed with figures of such beauty that they were fitting to be the object of longing. Joyously the young girls, wearing beautiful wreaths of wungū flowers, picked flowers and shoots, Their youthful sweetness giving them a special radiance as they moved about.

They seemed never to tire of seeking out the beauties of nature, spreading out* the fragrant asanas and jasmine. They wove blossoming tañjung and lovely priyaka into garlands and used them straight away as pins in their hair-knots. Their ear ornaments were young tarawarṣa creepers,* their hair secured with clasps of gaḍung shoots,* The fragrant pollen which fell on their beautiful breasts, they used as powder, its perfumes wafting overall.

Although the many beautiful women there could be depicted as incarnations of Beauty, They were clearly no match for the sweet beauty of her whose loveliness outshone* all at court. Instead, if they entered her presence, the charms of these other jewels of the palace seemed to become useless and falter. In short, Subhadrā was the essence of beauty* and the incarnation of every delight of the ocean of honey.

Now Nature had fashioned a bower that was as beautiful as a painting. Carved of coral, beautifully hung with curtains of wəlas-harəp creeper, gracefully it displayed its charms. Forming a magnificent wall along each side, jangga vines unfurled towards the sugar palms. As they reached out, shaken continually by the wind, their wafted fragrance pervaded overall.

From there, she took pleasure in watching her maids who had mastered thoroughly the art of beautiful songs. She was like a beautiful statue, lost in thought, and they came to her to present her with fragrant pandanus. Such was her due and, undoubtedly, she alone was the most exalted jewel of the court. How else could she be thought of than as the beauty of molten honey in visible form?

Truly, she was the origin* of bounteous beauty, the jewel of loveliness, the soul of the whole world. Confused, the bees in the pandanus followed after her, carried away by longing, unable to resist caressing her feet. Those devoted* to her care could not fail to be thrown into confusion at the sight of her resting there on the elephant rock. Any who caught even a glimpse of her would think that she was the goddess of beauty, returning to her immaterial state.

How could the beauty of the seeds of the sumanasa* or the blossoming pandanus not be defeated and annihilated? How could even the most skilfully written kakawin possibly have within its orbit the words to depict* her? The sharp point of the stylus of a poet composing verse would snap,* unable to go on, greatly distressed and without purpose, Because in the face of her beauty, the subtle words on the writing board would cease, their blackness would simply vanish.

The delights of the sea-shore would be destroyed, so awe-stricken at being thus rejected,* that they would leave without a backward glance. The mountains would crumble, not daring to breathe, no longer able to elicit rapturous wonder because of her. Taken by surprise, the beauty of the sky, even if it could be captured,* would certainly have no effect and would pine away, While the charms of a beautiful garden would disappear, even though it would wrongly cause sorrow.

Pārtha came there together with Kr̥ṣṇa, Their hearts filled with joy at seeing the beauty of the wooded hills. All at once Pārtha was overcome with sharp longing. Thoughts of the princess filled his mind, throwing him into utter confusion.

Therefore the prince questioned the king: ‘That girl there, Subhadrā, who is known to be the most outstanding of princesses, Goddess of all enchanting beauty, The daughter of king Basudewa, is a jewel amongst maidens.

‘Truly, on all this earth she has no equal. How could any passionate man* be indifferent to her or unaffected by her? Beauty* should be the only goal of a passionate man. Gold and superb jewels would easily be a fitting price for it.’

Thus he said. Kr̥ṣṇa replied: ‘O indeed you are mistaken in what you say, my brother. Although my little sister is young and ripe for marriage, It is actually very difficult to find someone to match her.

‘Even though it is expected* that a swayambara be held, Only forcible abduction would suffice, For a truly valiant and mighty hero Who would dare to seize her, unafraid of my presence here.

‘Perhaps such a one could win over my sister, And would not be afraid to resist the warriors of the line of Wr̥ṣṇi.’ Thus said Janārdana with asperity,* As if inflamed with ire at the words of the son of Pāṇḍu.

The noble Pārtha was indeed resolute and knew no fear: ‘Were all of them able to lie in ambush, still I would crush them and destroy them all!’ Thus he thought and rose to his feet crying: ‘I am not afraid of you Yadus!’ and immediately strode forward.

Swiftly he seized the frightened princess, Who was dazed and shocked as he clasped her to his breast, And climbed into his chariot, holding her so tightly in his embrace, that, in her terror, she was powerless to resist. With that he carried her off, speeding quickly away.

Thereupon the Yadus were filled with dejection, All sadly oppressed, that he was not intimidated. Despondently reflecting on their uselessness, For so contemptible were they that they had just stayed their hand and allowed him to go.

We will not tell of Arjuna but of the Wr̥ṣṇis who fled To bow down* before Lord Haladhara and give news of Pārtha’s deed. The king was then so filled with boiling, righteous rage, That sparks seem to fly from the reflected glare of his livid face.

At once, in the heat of his blazing anger, he roared loudly: ‘Shame upon you, O wicked, vile Pārtha! Believe that I will see that you are destroyed and swept away!’ Thus said the king rising to his feet and seizing his great and powerful weapons,* Looking more and more as if he would destroy the world and overturn the ocean, Rudra’s fire* in visible form.

All the princes and particularly the kings were equally angry and eager to do battle. Moreover, all were very fierce and in their frenzy stood upright, like lions filled with fighting spirit. Pradyumna and Gadā, Satyaka, Niśaṭha and Sāmba, vehement and savage. All possessed of tremendous great power, thorns in the side of any lion-like warrior were they.

And the Wr̥ṣṇis, their valiant allies, were all celebrated for their skill, They too were indomitable champions, victorious in battle, skilful, resolute and famed. How could either advancing demon or monster not be pulverised? Such was the extent of their uncontrolled anger that they ground their teeth with pent-up rage, and shouted out noisily to each other.

It seemed that Mount Raiwata[ka] would surely be destroyed: the small animals were thrown into great commotion by the blaring of war trumpets, The thundering of the kettle-drums and the crashing of cymbals* all sounding out together. Elephants trumpeted, horses neighed, shouts rang out, A kaleidoscope of multi-coloured standards rose on high, a dense mass of weapons glinting everywhere.

The hosts of warriors, with their entire forces, were fully equipped, all perfect in form. Valour lapped at their full hearts* like the ocean at the incoming tide. After being ordered into their respective divisions, they stood in formation to march out against Pārtha with all their might, All equally impatient, voraciously wishing to prove how eager and unafraid they were.

Brimful with ferocity, the Yadus were fearful to behold, all shouting loudly, With but a single thought: to hunt Pārtha down, leaving no stone unturned, and kill him. They took up their many bows and weapons in readiness, As frenzied as the Lord of Death in their great haste to attack furiously.

With Haladhara’s departure, these heroes set out with a great roar. The troops advanced In serried ranks, in thundering, unbroken succession, as they tried to outpace each other, But as they came upon Lord Kr̥ṣṇa, who was quite unperturbed, they came to a halt, Lord Haladhara choking to see his brother, the king, like that.

He stepped forward quickly towards Lord Kr̥ṣṇa saying: ‘O my brother! Fie! Do you mean to do nothing about Pārtha’s evil conduct! We can no longer regard him as a brother! It is not to be contemplated! In vain we have treated him with honour and entertained him regally.*

‘Indeed, I perceive his insult as so extreme that I am roused to anger by it. In truth, he is despicable! How can he act in such an evil, hostile, vile manner? Truly he knows not the meaning of respect as set down in the Law. He shows us nothing but scorn in abducting our sister.* Blind to proper conduct, treacherous, his insolence goes too far, he has insulted us beyond measure.’*

Thus he said harshly and Lord Kr̥ṣṇa answered him: ‘O King such vehement talk avails you nothing! You are a hero,* a world-protector, your victories are worthy of praise that resounds throughout the three worlds. The depth of your power is truly an ocean, renowned for its great depths.

‘Here is the highest truth to which you should adhere. It is proper that a learned man of the world be accomplished in virtue. He should not half-heartedly seek discernment, So that he may have mastery over both subtle and obvious* truth.

‘You must always consider the existence of enemies and friends, Who are both seen and unseen. It is their nature to oppose* good And therefore well-being is generated.

‘You are the irreproachable ruler of the world. Never do you show the least lack of discretion. Like a fire blazing fierce and bright, You are ever ready to vanquish any stain.

‘You are as inviolable as the water of life, Sweeping before it the activities of the impure mind. Living rightfully, observing right conduct, pure in body, You are the authority* of all law.

‘This is why I urge you to be calm. Only the despicable treat their king with contempt. You say Dhanañjaya has insulted you, But, on the contrary, I believe he has shown us the greatest honour.

‘Consider this O king! Is it proper for a virtuous man to think That a wife should be bought for valuables - For jewels, precious stones, gold and so on? To do so would be to consider her no better than cattle, a base and miserable thought.

‘Where in this world would you find an honourable man who would deliberately seek To sell his marriageable daughter willingly? For this reason the swayambara, or bride's choice is approved. If a man does not attend to this, he neglects his duty to the world.

‘But see, we have not yet performed This ceremony that accords with the highest dharma. And this is the reason for Dhanañjaya’s conduct. This abduction is not wrong but most excellent.

‘For he has obviously relied on his valorous might, And displayed his irresistible presence. He has been able to abduct Subhadrā With such confidence by virtue of his prowess.

‘Your Majesty, in my opinion, to use force against him would be wrong and to no avail, For we have already clearly seen how he gained the victory at a swayambara in the past. Even so, if put to the test, there is every chance he would prevail, For there is not a man* powerful enough to challenge his powers, not even Surapati.*

‘Your glory as a world conqueror is already renowned. If he defeated you in battle you would be put to shame. In short, I must insist that the best course would be not to become enraged. You should only adhere to meritorious conduct, for such is the sole aim of a ruler who cares for the welfare of others.

‘Now here is a course of action that may bring you a felicitous result, Your Majesty. Do not hesitate* to send an envoy to invite Dhanañjaya here now, quickly, Thereafter* to be married with all appropriate ceremonies. Do not fail to exert yourself in this, So that you may benefit from an alliance with all the Pāṇḍawas through such close family ties.

‘My* heart is true and has never been otherwise. These were the reasons I may have seemed indifferent and unmoved, to have paid no mind and to have taken no action.’ Thus said Kr̥ṣṇa and the Yadus acquiesced, Their burning fury extinguished like fire as the life-giving water of the king’s words showered down upon them.

Because of Kr̥ṣṇa’s intervention, Lord Baladewa now became calm. And so they halted and finally lay down all their arrows and weapons, Immediately preparing to invite the prince to come, With the delightful sound of the merry gəṇḍings heralding their departure.

Amidst great splendour, the princes set out with their followers, The noble widows* in particular competing to fill the chariots and elephants. The tramp of the many feet of that vast procession made a violent and tumultuous noise like a waterfall.* In their fine adornments this entourage was indeed like a forest of trees in blossom, as they delightfully walked along.

The many colourful banners side by side were a delight to behold, A resplendent rainbow arching down into budding flowers. Like mighty rock formations* were the lines of chariots, elephants and horses. The spaces between those walking along were deep ravines, and so crowded together were they, that progress became increasingly difficult.

We will not tell of them on their journey, but will tell of Prince Pārtha. He travelled slowly, embracing the beautiful princess in her unceasing despair. As she called more and more loudly upon all the Yadus. It seemed she would die, as she sighed plaintively on his lap, swooning, completely overwhelmed.

She became distraught at the sweetness of his endearments: ‘My jewel, my darling! Resign yourself. How could you go back now? What a pity it is that now I hold you in the palm of my hand, you think constantly of escaping! Let your mind be easy, my dear. It is the fruits of our former existence that we now reap, as I carry you off.

‘Clearly now I have found you, my precious jewel, dearest maiden, It is proper that your charms be the provisions for my journey as I seek the courage to perform deeds of valour. I am resolved if beset by enemies to show no fear: Indeed I am determined to meet in battle any who might come.

‘Regard the strength of my arms as the bride-price I must pay for you. In truth, you will be the witness to my heroic deeds, my dear.’ Thus said Pārtha with affection, addressing her with words of endearment, But the intensity of her tears only increased as she warded him off, moaning piteously.

Thus, he tried in so many ways to console* the confused and suffering girl. The Yadu hosts who had been sent to invite him to return, then came upon them, Bringing with them all the ritual gifts that could be desired of such a meeting. All were presented for the prince’s delight as they came forward to pay homage to him.

‘My friend, His Majesty, the King asks that you return to him, The lady, too, should accompany you. Come back together now to the palace. For His Majesty is truly pleased to invite you there. His nature* is as sweet as the sugar palm entwined by the gaḍung.’

Thus said all the princes, delighting Arjuna. Soon after, as the sun went down, they were escorted home. Riding in a black palanquin* closely surrounded by the throngs, they were as magnificent As the incomparable Śiwa and his consort descended to earth.

Lord Kr̥ṣṇa and Haladhara were in the court-yard, Together with the royal consorts, all of equal beauty, awaiting them as they drew near. In the glow of the many torches, it was as bright as day. The whispering music of bamboo xylophones echoed, as if to proclaim the happiness of the whole kingdom.

With his princess by his side, Dhanañjaya came forward And bowed low at the feet of both kings gathered there. At this, King Baladewa’s displeasure ceased, as he joyously received them warmly. Thus Kr̥ṣṇa’s noble teaching was brought to perfect fruition.

After that, the kings dispatched a messenger to return to the palace compound, There, at the feet of King Basudewa,* to tell of the course of events. We will not tell of his journey but again tell of Phalguṇa, Joining in celebration with the Yadu tribe in their camp.

In full measure, they regaled the prince in every way possible. Many kinds of delicious food and drinks had been prepared and were set before him. The friendship of King Harimūrti as well was undiminished, For it was his nature to act rightfully* and he was always dear to all.

We will not tell of the time spent entertaining Pārtha. Night came and soon the whole kingdom slept. As night ended and day came, all arose And the kings went home, accompanied by the entire Yadu tribe.

The noble Pārtha and the princess were escorted There to Dwārawatī, where they were indeed* received kindly by His Majesty the King. So it was that the joining of hands, religious observances, prayers and wedding ceremonies could then be performed, In accordance with the wishes expressed by Lord Kr̥ṣṇa.

Many spectators came to welcome the arrival of the Yadus to the city, All wanting to catch their first glimpse of this excellent prince of whom they had heard. Because they had never seen him before, they had come immediately, running outside in great haste. Young and old, even widows waited, some so decrepit with age they were bent over, but who, nevertheless, wanted to go too.

In a flurry, they came running quickly there. Some shouted out aloud in their desire to be first, Pushing against each other, bumping together, others racing neck and neck, called out noisily to those who had not come to the great square. Heedless of their ornaments, many fought to be the first to catch sight of the prince, Others who had been adjusting their kains ran out, so anxious to fly there without delay, that they were left half-dressed.

Let us pass over the arrival of Dhanañjaya. The kings made their way towards the inner apartments. There, according to rank, they prostrated themselves at the feet of King Basudewa and his queen, Who swiftly and kindly accepted Dhanañjaya, for not only was he handsome but he was also a powerful hero, possessed of virtue and skill, Moreover, a fitting partner for the princess, for he was none other than her close relative.

The King spoke thus, ‘Oh my son, Pārtha, hear what I have to say to you. Truly, just as Harimūrti and Karṣana,* you too are my refuge. May it bring us prosperity, my son, to be united with you and to be of one purpose, without discord.* For we are the branches of one family. Do not forget that you too can be said to be of my own seed.’*

The words of the king were sincere and, like ambrosia, brought contentment to those who heard them. Moreover, they were truly worthy sentiments, for he was an ancient and wise king, versed in the esoteric doctrines and practices of the welfare of others. The prince thus addressed with words of honour, made an obeisance to acknowledge the felicity of the king’s words, Bringing great pleasure to the depths of the hearts of the hosts of soldiers who listened with delight to this praise.

After they had discoursed thus, the most eminent officials were appointed To arrange all that was needed for the performance of the piḍuḍukan ceremonies* and wedding offerings, Because the most auspicious time for the princess to be united in marriage with Dhanañjaya Was the following day, and it was then that they would receive the king’s blessing.*

So* the entire Yadu tribe assembled there in complete formation and stood ready in the hall. The rank and file from throughout the land were there, drawn up in their various divisions, Ready to attend quickly to the king’s instructions, All firmly resolved to carry them out according to the prescriptions so that its splendour should be without flaw.

And so all was arranged appropriately: the many offerings stood ready, Brought into being by the power of the king who was the supreme and excellent Wiṣṇu. Moreover, the buildings both inside and outside the palace, Were restored to their original perfect state, all richly and lavishly decorated.

The open hall, beautifully roofed with a canopy of lovely jewels, sparkled. Of equal splendour were the pillars carved with different designs. Moreover, the bamboo leaves that glittered along the gleaming fences Were painted with plant motifs* that looked like masked figures.

Even the ridges of the roof were exquisite, inlaid with patterns of precious stones. The galleries along the sides, surrounded by screens, were shaped like the fins of fishes.* Gleaming,* golden jangga vines* trailed delicately over the panels. Set with rubies, the cawəni muslin had embroidered leaf-designs of shining embroidered silk.

The land now reverberated like the crashing ocean, As the music of the mr̥dangga and paḍahi royal drums thundered out in unison, And the great celebrations and feasting that the Yadus held Were now directed towards the preparations for the marriage celebration* of the noble Phalguṇa.

Ugrasena had arrived in the court-yard together with the other kings, Prominent amongst them was Harimūrti, their leader, and Halāyudha. As Prince Pārtha was regaled magnificently in the hall, All thought he surpassed even Surapati in splendour.

There was a beautiful bower of love, of unrivalled magnificence, A creation of the God of Love himself, a building of diamonds, beautifully arranged for the pleasure of passionate lovers. Its roof was set with glittering, blue śaśarudhira gems and an orb of sparkling rubies. Its embroidered canopy was shaped like the moon and embroidered with* cucur birds.

There was a balcony on the high ledge of the front verandah* of this pavilion. All the beauty of the Tāladhwaja* garden unfolding in the fourth month, had assembled there. Spread out were kalpataru flowers,* prepared as ornaments for the bower. The fragrance of burning incense inspired pangs of love as it diffused its delightful fragrance without cease.

Inside the princess was being attended*..............

.......The religious rites had been performed and all was set ready For the reverential salutations, auspicious ceremonies and acts of worship in the presence of the kings.

Many glorious prayers of offering were recited there. The music of the paḍahi drums for their entertainment and the singing too, were delightful. As night fell, this most excellent scene was suddenly bedecked in new raiment, From the bright glow of lighted lamps, like an assembly of suns.

We will not tell of this. After the completion of the wedding* ceremony, the bridal couple Came back and moved to their palanquin, like flower buds inundated by rain. To the accompaniment of the lovely gaməlan, sweet and soft, they set off. The tramp of the people escorting them sounding like the rumbling thunder that always accompanies the month of spring.

They went up into the sapphire bower where they were to join* in sexual union. How enchanting was its beauty, its covers perfumed with the seven fragrances* and scented with fragrant saffron. The aroma of camphor and the perfume of the jənu were a call to love-making Clearly awakening longing in the hearts of questing* lovers and bringing them pangs of love.

Within there, Pārtha, enraptured, held the princess on his lap. Moreover, the whispered urgings of the God of Love aroused him and filled his being with desire. He was overcome with the confusion of unrequited love and was forced to hide his feelings, as the wedding attendants* returned to the bed-chamber, While his desire unfurled little by little, like the shoots of the gaḍung vine reaching towards the light of the moon.

The princess, goddess of love, in her confusion and distress, turned away, uneasily sighing as he tried to woo* her. Sudden tears filled her eyes and, as they fell, seemed to turn to liquid honey. Her arching brows drew together in a frown as the prince embraced her, Her desperate heart crushed as he held her on his lap, sad and fearful as he tried to reassure her.

The prince, dejected by this, pondered deeply on how to win her affection. Perplexed and agitated by his love, he passionately embraced her slender waist. Because of his joy, he felt impelled to listen* only to his heart, the seat of his strong desire, With a constant flood of sweet endearments and caresses which might woo her to the delights of love:

‘My darling, you have ever been the deity of my meditation [enthroned] in my love-sick heart. You are the Goddess of Love, Ratih, in human form. You are the invisible essence which arises from the immaterial state of the depths of feeling of one who longs to know the secrets of the raptures of love.* You are the embodiment of honey, the goddess of flowers, the splendour of asana blossoms, the jewel of maidenhood, The beauty of the fourth month, a bejewelled statue transformed into a girl.

‘So little sister, it seems that I have reached my goal now that I hold you on my lap and draw near to you. You are the one I have longed for constantly and the reason I have sought to come to you now, to take you upon my knee. You are the very jewel of my heart, wherein is set the innermost kernel of my devotion to love. To achieve my purpose, I have risked all, that I might be one with you and succeed in enjoying your favour.

‘But now I* am in despair, how can you repay me with but a glance, while I suffer under my unyielding desire? See how my heart breaks as I hold back my love, though you could set me free with words of love. Clearly, my life must cease, for you have mortally wounded me, O jewel of the palace. Indeed, I have treasured the praise* of your charms in my dreams, but I grow weary at encountering only sullenness.’*

Thus, the prince cajoled her with words sweet enough to drive away the princess’s reluctance, Like a frenzied bee whispering softly to a profusion of fragrant asana flowers that have not yet opened. Seeking to obtain happiness with soft words while inhaling her perfume, embracing her tightly, Full of passion but gentle, he bent his intent gaze on her, determined to seize her waist.

But the princess turned away from the prince’s sweet words of comfort, Taking no pleasure in the charm of his words as he caressed her. Full of doubt, she moved away as he whispered to her, and wept as he kissed her, Drawing her tapih tightly around her huddled body, afraid that he would suddenly seize upon the opening of her kain, that he eyed so intently.

Her angry glance, so beautiful it melted his heart, devastated her lover. The frowning arch of her eyebrows wounded him and the prince, wanting only to caress her, was saddened. Her efforts to resist him were like those of the shoots of the aśoka battling against the wind. Her movements were those of a lotus addressed with endearing names by a frenzied bee.

The prince’s heart was intoxicated, flooded with sweet delight at the princess’s beauty. Ever more passionately he caressed her, softly stroking her, though she remained indifferent. His hands crept towards her waist, aiming for her waist band, And he began, once again, to assail her with sweet sound, a deluge of loving words:

‘My darling, you are the jewel of beauty who confuses my love-lorn heart. By your actions, you only enhance your sweetness and pierce me to the core. You constantly wound my loving heart which is ever ready to welcome your words of endearment, But, just like the moon, I cannot bring relief to an unopened flower bud, feverish with heat.’

‘You are as beautiful as the asana flowers found in the floral hair band of a hair-knot, so sweet and fragrant. Joyfully, I long to awaken your love, but you want to hide your charming perfection. I am a bee, full of love, but weary of fighting off my passion and desire for so long, Fearlessly inhaling your scent, happy to die if I already wore the marks of being the first one to taste of [the flowers in] your hair-knot.

‘Oh how disappointed am I in love and so I will tell of the nature of my wistful longing. It is unbearable, though my heart would beat a little faster if addressed with words of love. Instead, I am full of ardent longing, because I embrace your waist and restlessly seek your approval, In the mistaken belief that you might be touched by passion, when you see the suffering of one who is so filled with desire.

‘Oh I am overpowered with longing and have lost patience because of the urgings of the God of Love.* Thrown into confusion at the slightest touch of your finger tips or shapely calves, bewildered with desire, My heart is flooded with desperation, I am rendered powerless by your hair-knot, I ache when your sweet eyes fall on me. I know not what to do. What can I say to persuade you to accept my words?’*

But the princess’s thoughts were sad,* as the prince continually honoured her again with words. ‘My darling wife, accept my care as I cradle you on my lap and hope to make love to you. If you must deny me access to your smile, then scratch me instead with your sharp nails. I would rather die. What is death by comparison to the dangers faced in seeking refuge in the realm of love?

‘In short, behold the state of this lover who presents to you his words of love, Hoping always that in your love I might find the place I so tirelessly seek, where I can lay down my sorrow and passion. I will stop without ever reaching my goal of having you as my support, O jewel amongst maidens, And it would be preferable for me to slink away in shame if you will not receive me kindly.’

Thus said the prince. The princess moaned dejectedly, Powerless to resist the prince any longer, unable to ward off his persuasive words. The broken points of her nails were of no use and so, her efforts to resist him were easily defeated and brushed aside, And the prince persisted in his efforts to kiss her more and more passionately.

The princess was so confused, her resistance so ineffectual, her heart so anxious as she sighed, That it truly seemed her tears should have deterred the prince. But it was too much, she could no longer think of striking him, defeated, tired beyond measure, As the prince continued to shower her with words as sweet as the ocean of honey:

‘Dear maiden, heart’s desire, give me the gift of your glance. Do not be cross or avert your gaze. Look at me! What a pity it is, my beloved, that in your anger, you do not care if I am suffering with desire or beset by pangs of love. Oh, do not weep, do not moan or be dejected, how can I continue to serve you, if you will not speak? In short, how can you disappoint me so in my quest to obtain your support* to help me draw near to you?

‘It would be better if you would but bestow your sweetness on me, so that I might match it with my steadfast* love. For your whimpering is in vain and only makes you weary and distresses you. How can it possibly be right? Indeed, you only strike my breast and threaten me with your terrible nails and conceal the redness of your teeth. Certainly, my dear, if you would but accept my approaches, I would find the proper way* to worship you.’

Thus, Arjuna’s love became words of such sweetness that they would vanquish liquid sugar, His heart compelled him to restrain his longing no more, though she cried out, continually pushing him away. But the princess was too exhausted, deprived of all strength and her tears were to no avail as she fought him off. She did not know what to do as the prince, approaching her from the side,* took her forcibly.

In short, though the princess resisted him, she was powerless, distraught, as he took her by surprise, Undoing her clothing, releasing her fragrance as her beautiful kris-shaped waist was laid bare, So that Dhanañjaya became even more exhilarated at this foretaste of the love-making to come, Just as the bee, catching the first glimpse of the beauty of an asana, is suddenly driven to sip its honey.

After he had deflowered her, that most excellent of maidens was exhausted and weak. The prince, desire unabated, cradled her, his heart full* of deep yearning. The beautiful girl was the embodiment of the splendour of a wilted lotus, But because she was so painfully affected as she sank down, he whispered sweet words to her.

The prince was even more disturbed by the princess, As in the light of the lamps,* she seemed even more wan and pale. Now, so exhausted was she that she lay there as still as a statue of gold, As the prince gently embraced her, cradling her on his lap and rearranging her robe.

But the woebegone princess dejectedly slipped away from him. She was aghast at the blood glistening on her dress. So her adoring lover, not wanting to leave her side, carried her out To the outer verandah, going to find attendants to bathe her.

Her maids were waiting, close at hand, with everything all prepared And laid out in position for bathing her. All were skilled in understanding subtleties and giving guidance, All versed in soothing and bestowing great care on her. We will not tell of the goddess as she was bathed there beside her lover.

After they had both been bathed, the girl who had now just experienced the intimacy of marriage, Was petted and watched over* by her loving maid: ‘Dear lady, resign yourself to bear a little pain, For your sorrow will soon turn to desire, my dear.

‘The flowers of the fragrant lotus, jasmine and nāgapuṣpa Are nothing less than a sign* that it is appropriate For passionate bees to buzz around* them and ravish them. No mistress, I believe that being married is similar.

‘Little one, you should return quickly to the pavilion. Oh, do go back my dear. The one who yearns for you is held in thrall, and eagerly awaits you.’ And she urged her so insistently that the princess was ashamed And mounted slowly back into the fragrant bridal chamber.

On her return, the princess huddled in the farthest corner of the beautiful chamber. The prince, with mounting joy, took her onto his lap, Caressing her and looking closely at her pale, drawn face, Then kissed her passionately, his sweet words falling like rain drops:

‘You are the very relative of the moon, you are the rumbling of the thunder of desire, the gentle rain of the raptures of love. You bring me constant heartache, so that I burgeon with passion, and my love puts forth new shoots. Moreover,* as I embrace your charms, suddenly offering me flowers of desire,* My joy knows no limit in being intertwined with you in the reality of sexual union.

‘Now see, beloved, how fortunate I am to be your partner and share love with you. You, my lady, signify the end of my earthly existence. You are the provisions I will carry to the next world as I lie next to you in repose. Indeed, in the hidden depths of your eyes, transfixed, I let myself be carried away on the tide of my yearning, And I, your humble slave, will die willing, by casting myself* into the sea of honey to be as one with your sweetness.’

In this way, he calmed the princess as he sought to comfort her. Enchantingly, he cradled her head in his lap, giving her delicious betel-leaf, eagerly kissing her lips, Brushing back her hair, skillfully bestowing great care on her, Holding her hand, never wearying of resting his eyes on the fullness of her breasts.

All the while, softly, tremulously, he murmured love poems, wave upon wave of sweet sentiments, Alternating with the pleasure of passionately kissing her beautiful cheek. With the sweetest expressions of love, he began all over again* to address her fondly, Disturbing the newly blossoming areca flower, filling her with the constant sound.

The union of the prince and most excellent princess, there on the bridal couch, Could be likened to that of the mangunəng and jasmine or the katirah touching the wəlas-harəp creeper, As beautiful as the charming gaḍung entwining and merging with the wanañjari.* Such was their union, as they shared together in the raptures of love.

The delighted prince abandoned himself to the pursuit of erotic pleasure, there on the couch, All night long, unable to sleep, so often did he caress the princess. His words of love could be heard by the women hidden behind the curtains spying on them, and their sighs, And the constant tinkling of their anklets, told of their penetration into the secrets of sexual intercourse.

The night passed and as day came, the bright light of the sun shone down. When it was time for the kraban ceremonies and everything was ready, Everything was so wondrous and incomparable that it seemed to have come from Indra’s heaven, For it was King Harimūrti who had ordered them to be prepared and had seen to their arrangement.

The exquisite seven fragrances,* deer-navel musk and sandalwood spread over all, Bringing enchantment to the girl who had for the first time known a man there on the couch. Incense glowed, its vapour seemed to waft* there to enhance the delight, Seeking out the radiance of the cawəli silk of the curtains, always so fragrant.

The delightful melodies of kidung, accompanied on the lute, began to play, Sounding so much like bees that everyone thought it was spring. Then as these constant offerings seemed to increase in splendour, their thoughts turned again to love, An experience so wondrous that it laid to rest her fear of love-making.

In full view, the two went out and sat side-by-side on the verandah. After they had bathed and put on their jewels and ornaments, They looked as sweet as the conjoined beauty of the lotus and honey, Bearing with fortitude* the presence of the maids, all of whom were beautiful and were wearing many maṇḍaga* ornaments.

Finally a gentle elderly lady* from the palace charged with* their care, Who was learned* in interpreting auspicious signs, summoned them to come forth. And so the two then stood up and came out to the audience hall, Where the Yadu tribe was being sumptuously entertained as they feasted outside.

To tell of all that took place would take too long. As day departed, The bridal pair moved away together to the beautiful pavilion where they would spend the night. People thought of them as the beautiful asana flower and the bee, As the two lovers devoted themselves to each other with caresses, shared comforts and sweet whisperings.

The princess’s apprehension then ceased as her love unfolded Because the sweet prince completely won over her downcast heart. Like the deep joy of ivory bamboo when it comes into contact with the rain from the clouds, Desire pierced her, filling her to the core, as she became one with the prince.

It was the same for the prince, as he sought release from passion in their sexual union, A devotee of loving, that reached perfection there on the couch. His languid sidelong glance was the box of sacrifical unguent he placed on her firm breasts* And his caresses were the acts of worship arising from his invocation of the presence of the god in their sexual union.*

Later, they ate the delicious food that lay ready. The food, drink and delicacies were quite perfect. Any wonderful gift, anything at all that they desired, was there Because of Kr̥ṣṇa, the paramount, heroic king, who was the embodiment on earth of the incarnation of the eight kingly virtues.

And so it was that their union was a thing of joy. Never wearying of each other, one in spirit were they in the interchange of love and passion. Many months went by. Their every action was in harmony, Their happiness grew with the burgeoning of their great love.

We will pass over the description of their marriage. The twelfth year of exile came and went. Phalguṇa’s mind then turned to thoughts Of those he had left behind.* How could he now abandon them?

It is in the nature of existence that the pain of separation cannot prevail.* Great longing then subtly takes up residence in the heart So that sorrow and loss of peace of mind take possession of it, And it may happen that one forgets the gifts of the wheel of existence.

And so Pārtha’s mind was troubled And he said to his bride: ‘My darling wife, my little sister, you are indeed my very being. O my lady, you purge my longing and put an end to my sorrow.

‘But now increasingly my own desires defer to My great devotion to my beloved mother* and brothers. Because for so long now I have left them abandoned, I think only of what has become of them in the palace there.

‘But my devotion to you, my dear is ever constant. I wish to share your love. Come with me to my own home, And stay with me there in Indraprastha. My dear, have no fear. Our hearts will find perfect peace in living in accordance with what is right, my darling.

‘So here is the course we must take, my beloved. It is my duty to pay homage in the dust at the feet of the King And your place is to be beside me as my faithful and beloved wife. And thus you too may properly carry out the wishes of Yudhisthira, the son of Dharma.’

Thus said the prince, lovingly addressing her with kind and gentle words. So the princess gave him answer, her voice faltering: ‘O my Lord, I know what you say is virtuous and right. How could I not follow the proper duty of a wife?

‘It is only that I am bewildered, torn in two by how I will suffer and yearn Greatly for my own mother and my lord the king, Not forgetting my brothers, who call to me with longing, holding me back. I cannot repay their love by bringing them grief.

‘My devotion to my parents is beyond words Truly it as great as both the mountains, Hima and Sumeru. But if I told of my love for you, It would truly be wider than the widest ocean.’

We will say no more of their conversation After they had agreed to the prince’s resolution. That night they slept in mutual delight in the fragrant bed, Their hearts absorbed in joining together in desire, swept away by passion.

The next morning, the prince and his beloved awoke and came out from the bower. They went to the water-spouts where they bathed joyfully together. When they left the water, they gently stroked each other’s faces, blowing into each other’s eyes,* Arranging flowers here and there,* he decorated the princess’s fragrant hair-knot.

After adorning themselves fittingly, they came forth hand-in-hand, strolling away together. It seemed that Manmatha, the god of the love-couch, was present in his eyes and in his sweet teeth. There, on the tiled verandah, they sat together with thighs touching, And any who saw the princess sitting on his lap, exchanging chewed betel, thought they were the God and Goddess of Love.

‘If I were to die, how delightful it would be if I could return as a bee. I could passionately enjoy your charms for ever, if they were in the fragrant asana flowers in the garden. I would know ecstasy even if the gaḍing repulsed and wounded me or I were struck down by a rain of honey. If I died, but bore the signs of my joy at making love to you, I would have reached heaven.’*

This was the way Pārtha spoke, his words as sweet as the incarnation of syrup. Delighted and full of ardent longing, he entwined the fingers of her hand, then reached out* to encircle her waist. Like the jangga embracing the slender young shoots of the ivory coconut, he softly directed himself to her ear, But the goddess turned away sighing again, languishing as the prince caressed her.

We will not tell of their love. Finally they came forth, making their way to the inner court. There the prince and the most excellent princess entered the presence of king Basudewa who was there with Halāyudha And Lord Kr̥ṣṇa. The lovers both came there, And bowed reverently at the king’s feet. He at once received Dhanañjaya benevolently.

The prince paid obeisance: ‘I beg you, O King, to hear my request. I seek leave to return to my home and therefore, I, your humble servant,* kiss your feet. Please do not think that I am ungrateful or indifferent, or that I wish to cast aside your favour Or seem to neglect my duty, for indeed, those who would be freed from their bonds face great difficulties.’

After Dhanañjaya had begged leave, the king embraced him: ‘Oh my son, I understand, my boy, that your heart is firm in our cause. But if you must go, then I shall divide my kingdom, lands and possessions, And all the most excellent things that befit a king throughout our kingdom you will enjoy, now you are close-bound* to us.

‘Indeed always be generous, my son, when you see the worthlessness of those who have no protection, show them compassion. May you never encounter difficulty, or be neglectful of the teachings, cruel in your affections, or harsh. My daughter, apply yourself well, for clearly it is your duty to serve your lord and show him every care, And thus you will come to know the love of Kuntī, your Lady Aunt* and elder brothers if you always bear in mind the duties of a younger person.’

Thus was his advice, and the prince, who thought it was like the water of life, then bowed* in reverent acknowledgement. Lord Kr̥ṣṇa declared that he would accompany them home, because he loved them so. Nor did Baladewa wish to be left behind, he too wanted to go with the prince But resolutely the prince denied them, saying that in the future they would certainly visit.

We will not tell of their deliberation. Away sped a messenger carrying the king’s words To Yudhiṣṭhira and his consort, Making his way to the kingdom of Indraprastha.

We will not tell of the departure of the royal messenger But again tell of Pārtha. From the court he returned to his quarters, Where many members of the Wr̥ṣṇi family visited him with offers of assistance.

Their offerings as they came to pay homage were delightful. All were weeping, so filled were they with love, Their affectionate natures dominating them and overwhelming them With constant thoughts of love for the princess.

And as for the princess, she too was moved to tears And wept bitterly, her heart moved by compassion, Disheartened and saddened now that separation was imminent, Not knowing what to think, suddenly beginning to lament.

The ladies of the court who together were charged with the regulation of affairs* in the inner chamber, Were frantically busy, for suddenly, not only did they have to make preparations but also apply themselves to embroidery.* But we will not describe those who were to accompany them to Indraprastha, all were impatient to go. All through the night came a quiet hum as they threaded strings of ornaments very carefully.*

We will not tell of this. The next morning, at the appointed time, when the countryside was fresh, Pārtha bid farewell and set off with his beloved. Together, all watched them climb into their seats in their chariot, As with Dāruki, their charioteer, at the ready, they left in magnificent and splendid style.

The Wr̥ṣṇi troops, who would be the guard on their journey, were prepared and at the ready. Immediately they too set off from the palace, in a procession of chariots, Leaving those left behind so despondent that they could only stare anxiously after them, Lost in thought and grieving, as if they longed to set off after them and go too.

Great indeed was their yearning. But we will tell now of the son of Pāṇḍu. On and on he journeyed, past settlements they took their course. The countryside through which they passed was beautiful, and again and again he stopped along the way so that they might disport, Thinking up all kinds of excuses* to comfort his beloved’s heartache.

They came upon many different villages, and all were expecting them, Ready to offer tribute, for indeed the prince was truly a man of distinction endowed with every good quality. Thus, there was no hesitation at all because he repaid them joyfully with royal grants, And all surrendered their hearts in homage and respect to him.

It would take too long to tell of the time they spent on the road, stopping overnight here and there. They came to Indraprastha where they were welcomed by the whole court, Chief amongst them Kuntī and the sons of Pāṇḍu, with Yudhisthira in first place. ‘It is like a ray of light in the darkness’, thought the people throughout the land.

Without further ado, Lady Kuntī delightedly embraced Pārtha’s bride. Because she had looked forward so eagerly to their arrival, All she could say was: ‘My dear daughter! My son!’ so moved that her tears began to flow And deluged the hair-knots of the two who paid her homage there before her.

As for Dharmatanaya, he too was full of joy, As were Bhīma, the heroic Nakula and his brother, all were also overjoyed To see Pārtha, returning as a world conqueror to his family, Moreover, he had won the world-renowned goddess of the Yadu tribe.

It would take so long to describe the happiness of the king and all the court. The five sons of Pāṇḍu returned together to the palace, Accompanied by Kuntī. Ever at the side of Subhadrā, Pārtha’s wife, Was the Lady Dropadī, who looked to her needs and was full of affection for her.

The homage that had been prepared for them was extraordinary. They were received with prayers of good fortune by the court priests and the foremost among learned religious leaders. The feasting and ceremonies were perfect, And all the ladies of noble birth, overcome with love, were happy to serve them.

And thus Phalguṇa returned, his fame yet more renowned. Ever more safe and sound was that most excellent kingdom, now restored to prosperity, knowing no impediment. The members of each caste and stage of life,* as well as all the common people knew good fortune once again, as they had before. Yudhistira, son of Dharma, in his most wondrous and excellent majesty, was the parasol protecting the whole world.

He* was as perfect as god Indra. How could his power, that so abounded in goodness, be surpassed? Shamed, the evil-doers stopped. They were destroyed and good men prospered. The admonitions of the great seer were undiminished, for he had instructed them in the proper course for those cursed to rely on the senses.* In short, the four brothers were the source of his strength, while the sage kept watch over the eldest among them always.

Blameless was he, occupying himself constantly with his subjects, fostering dharma like a light in the darkness of the land. Renowned throughout the world for his great courage, his might ever the strong protection of the world. As long as the kṣatriya warriors lived in righteousness, no evil could befall those who led the hermit’s life. In prosperity, he was the place of refuge for the helpless, caring for them, succouring them.

And so, now here ends the story in praise of him who is the caretaker of the world. It is called The Journeying of Pārtha, the work of one who humbly seeks help and audaciously presumes to imitate [great poets]. Deficient though it is, may it be received by the most excellent of men, may he not take offence at it, even though it is without merit. May His Majesty, Surawīrya, have compassion and give his blessing to my efforts to capture beauty in verse.