Nala and Damayanti’s love messages to each other were carried by a

swan. During her swayamvara, the gods themselves came to try and
win her hand. But Damayanti chose Nala for her husband. The gods
blessed them for being true to each other. Twin children were born to
them. They were blissfully happy. Nothing and nobody, it seemed,
could ever destroy their happiness.

Though the gods went away wishing the couple a happy life, a demigod
named Kali was upset that Damayanti had chosen a human in preference to
a god.

Kali was the most malicious and vengeful of the demigods. “For insulting
the gods by her choice, Damayanti should be punished,” Kali said, angrily.
He turned to his companion, Dwapara. “I will teach Nala a lesson. I will
bring about his ruin. He is fond of the game of dice. Through this game, I
will make him lose his wealth, his kingdom and Damayanti. Dwapara, be a
part of my plan. I will enter and take control of Nala’s mind. You enter and
influence the dice.”

“You can count on me,” Dwapara replied.

The two demigods went to the neighbouring king, Pushkara, a cousin of

Nala, who had always been envious of him. They said to him, “Invite Nala to
play dice. We’ll help you win and all Nala’s possessions will be yours.”
Pushkara was only too glad to agree.

Pushkara challenged Nala to play. Nala refused Pushkara’s invitations time

and again. Damayanti was glad. Then, Kali took possession of Nala’s mind.
Damayanti was surprised to hear that the next time Pushkara sent his
invitation, Nala had accepted. Pushkara eagerly fixed the day of the game.
The two began to play.

Dwapara had stealthily entered the dice. At every single throw, the dice fell
against Nala. He staked his gold, his wealth, his kingdom. He lost them all.
Damayanti, his courtiers and his people begged him to stop. But Nala did
not listen. His mind was inflamed by Kali, and he played on and on like a
mad-man.

Damayanti realised something was terribly wrong. She sent the twins to her
father’s kingdom with their trusted charioteer, Varshneya.

When Nala had lost the last of his possessions, Pushkara said with a great
laugh, “Only Damayanti is left. Will you stake her now?” Nala was shaken
out of his madness. Pushkara, his own cousin, was speaking these words.
They broke his heart. Without a word, he removed all his jewels and rich
robes and laid them down. And dressed in a single cloth, he walked away
from his kingdom and his old life without a backward glance. Damayanti
too changed into the simplest of clothes, and quietly followed Nala.

Pushkara announced, “Anyone who helps this beggared king will be put to
death.” The people wept as they watched the two figures leave. They could
do nothing for their beloved king and queen.

Nala and Damayanti spent three days at the margin of a nearby forest. They
lived only on water from a stream. Then, tormented by hunger, Nala went in
search of food. He saw some birds in a clearing. “I may be able to catch at
least one,” he thought. He removed his cloth and threw it over the birds. In
a whirr of wings, the birds rose up, carrying away the cloth with them. “Ha,
ha! Do you know who we are? We are the dice who fell against you every
time. Taking the form of birds, we came to take away the very last thing you
own.”

Nala stood there in naked humiliation. “My queen, I have fallen into the
lowest condition to which a man can sink,” he said. Damayanti quickly tore
away and wrapped half of her own cloth around him. “Do you see these
roads branching away from here? They lead to your father’s kingdom,
Damayanti; they go straight to your father’s kingdom.”

“Are you trying to send me away, making me leave you all alone in the dark
forest? Instead, let us both go to Vidarbha together. My kingdom is also
yours.”
“No, Damayanti. I cannot let your family see me in this state.”

“Then I am staying with you. We will face whatever lies ahead together.”

They spent the night in a traveller’s shelter. To ensure Nala stayed with her,
Damayanti tied the end of her cloth to his and then went to sleep. Nala lay
awake. His mind whirled, thinking of the future. Then he made up his mind.
“I cannot bear to see Damayanti sharing in my suffering.” There was an old
sword lying nearby. He took it and carefully cut the knot that joined their
cloths. “Once I am gone, she will go back to her parents where she will be
safe,” he thought. He hurried out of the hut. Then he went back to take one
last look at Damayanti. Every time he walked away, again and again, love
brought him back. He whispered a prayer. “May the gods protect you. Your
goodness and purity are the best shields that will guard you against all
dangers. Goodbye, my beloved.” Wretched and weeping, Nala finally fled
into the trees.

A little later, Damayanti woke up. “Where is my husband?” she cried out
and ran outside. “Nala, you cannot have deserted me, who so faithfully
followed you into the forest. You are playing with me, aren’t you? I can see
a shadow behind that bush. It is you, is it not? No, he is not here.”
Frightened and crying, she searched the wild overgrown paths for Nala.
They led her deeper and deeper into the forest.

Suddenly, a huge python reared its head and caught her in its coils. She
called out for help. A hunter passing by, came up, quickly killed the snake
and released Damayanti. “Who are you?” he asked her. Damayanti told him
her story. He looked long at her. Then talking softly and winningly, he came
towards her. “Do not come one step closer,” she warned him. “I am the
devoted wife of a good man. That is my protection. If you touch me, you
are tempting fate.” But the hunter was full of desire for Damayanti and
came nearer. The next moment, he dropped to the ground, as if hit by a
stroke of lightning.

Damayanti ran away from there. Hot tears ran down her face. “May those
who brought my husband and me to this state, be thrown into an abyss of
torment,” she said. At once, the condemning words that fell from her sped
towards Kali who had caused all their misery.

Damayanti wandered in the forest, searching for Nala. Her mind affected by
sorrow, she began to speak to the mountains and trees. “Where is Nala?”
she asked them. “O Mountain Mother, with your peaks rising into the sky,
can you see my Nala? I am like your daughter. Comfort me. Tell me, where
can I find my Nala? When can I hear his voice again − that voice which is
sweet as nectar? He would tell me, O trees: ‘There is no one dearer to me
than you.’ Then, why did he leave me? Nala, won’t you come and answer
my call?”

Soon, she saw ahead a meditation grove of rishis. They welcomed her,
blessed her, assured her that she would soon regain Nala and her earlier
life. Then the grove and the rishis vanished before her eyes. “Was that a
dream? Am I seeing things?” Damayanti murmured, and with stumbling
steps, began her search again.

Fortunately, she met a group of travelling priests. They had not seen Nala,
but they asked her to join them. In their company, she reached the bright
capital city of the Chedi king, Suvahu. The street boys surrounded her at
once, pointing, staring and laughing. They followed her till she stopped to
rest near a fine building. It was one of the palaces of the royal family. From
the terrace, the queen mother of Chedi saw Damayanti. “Who is that
woman? She is badly dressed and covered in dust. But I see a nobility in
her. How calm she is, though surrounded by teasing boys. Bring her to me,”
she told her maid.

Damayanti was brought to the terrace. She narrated her story, but hid her
true identity. The queen mother and her daughter offered her the place of
Sairindhri or personal friend and maid. Damayanti gratefully accepted.

Meanwhile, after Nala had left Damayanti, he saw a great blaze of fire.
Someone was caught in it and was shouting for help. “I am coming. Don’t
be afraid,” Nala called out. He had been given a boon by the fire-god, Agni,
that he would not be harmed by fire. So, Nala passed easily through the
flames. He saw a huge snake in their midst. “I am the Naga, Karkotaka.
Because of a curse, I am rooted to one spot, and cannot move to save
myself. Carry me out. I will be your friend.” The snake became as small as a
thumb. Nala picked him up and took him out of the fire. At Nala’s tenth
step, the snake sank its little fangs into Nala’s hand. At once, Nala lost his
earlier handsome looks. His skin turned jet black, the ends of his limbs
became reddish, and his body stunted. “Don’t be upset, Nala,” the snake
said, regaining his large form. “I have done this with a reason. No one will
recognise you now. My poison will cause you no pain. But it will burn and
torture the evil Kali inside you.” Thus, through Karkotaka, Damayanti’s curse
against Kali took effect.

“Take up the post of charioteer with Rituparna, king of Ayodhya. He is an

expert at dice. Learn the art from him. In return, give him your knowledge
of horses. Here are two cloths. Just put them on and think of me, and you
will become the old Nala again.” With these words, Karkotaka vanished.

Nala did as the snake had advised him.

Nala and Damayanti, wandering far apart, had begun a new life. But day
and night, they pined for each other.

REUNION

In return for saving him from a fire, the snake Karkotaka had bitten Nala −
but for his own good! The poison gave him no pain, but made his body jet
black and stunted. Nobody recognised him, which was what he needed
now. Nala took on a new name: Vahuka. He took up the job of a
charioteerfor King Rituparna of Ayodhya, who was happy with him because
Vahuka seemed to work wonders on his horses and had the finest cooking
skills. Nala was glad to see an old, familiar face in the palace stables. His
former charioteer, Varshneya, had taken up employment with Rituparna.

Varshneya was puzzled about the new charioteer. Every night, after his
prayers, he would say these words: “Where are you now, faithful one? Are
you thinking of that wretched man who left you?” and tears would come to
his eyes. “If Vahuka did not look so different, I would have thought I was
hearing the voice of my old master, Nala, speaking to our dear queen.
Where is she, I wonder,” Varshneya thought. Queen Damayanti had
entrusted her twins to Varshneya, and this loyal charioteer had driven them
to her parents’ palace.

Far away in the kingdom of the Chedi king, Damayanti was living her life as
Sairindhri (personal friend and maid) to the queen-mother and her
daughter. They were very kind to her. They had sent men in search of their
Sairindhri’s lost husband, but none of them had found anyone who fitted
the description that Damayanti had given.

One day, a priest came to meet the queen-mother. “I am Sudeva. I come

from Vidarbha, the kingdom of King Bhima. We are searching for his
daughter, Damayanti. I saw your Sairindhri yesterday. I looked at her
carefully. I feel she is Damayanti. But to make sure, I request you to check
whether she has this special birth mark…” The queen-mother promised to
find out.

She went to Damayanti, who was sitting in a corner. In mourning for the
lost Nala, she wore the plainest of clothes and her face and body were
always smeared with holy ashes. This helped also to disguise her identity.
“My Sairindhri,” the queen-mother said to her. “I want to wash your
beautiful face today. Just for fun. I am tired of seeing it covered in ashes.”
Damayanti’s face was washed of all the ashes. Between her brows, the
queen-mother saw the birth mark of a small mole shaped like an auspicious
lotus. She embraced Damayanti. “So you are the princess of Vidarbha. A
priest sent by your father has come in search of you. Child, go back to your
parents. They are so worried about you.” She arranged for a grand
palanquin, and Damayanti returned home, and was reunited with her
parents and twins.

Damayanti could not rest till she found Nala. She realised that he may have
disguised himself to be unrecognisable. She instructed messengers to
search far and wide. They were to sing a ballad with the words:

“Dear gambler, you cut the cloth and left me, making me fall
Into the deepest sadness. Please, won’t you answer my call?”

“See if anyone responds to these words and bring me back the news,” she
told them.

The messengers travelled great distances. They sang the ballad on city
streets, in kings’s courts and at village banyans. Finally, one day, a
messenger brought some news. “I reached the city of Ayodhya and sang
the ballad at King Rituparna’s court. Nobody responded. But as I was
leaving, a dark, stunted man who is the king’s charioteer, came up to me
and said,

“When a man is down and out, and has lost even his last cloth to birds,

A wife should forgive such an unfortunate man — I reply with these words.”

“This has to be Nala,” Damayanti said, in joy. “But I will take my tests
further.” She made a secret plan, telling only her mother.

The priest Sudeva arrived one morning at Rituparna’s court and announced:
“I have come to tell you that Queen Damayanti, thinking her first husband
lost, will choose another husband at a second swayamvara at Vidarbha. I
was delayed on my journey, so could not bring the news sooner. The
swayamvara is taking place early tomorrow morning.”

Rituparna had always wanted to marry Damayanti. He hurriedly called for

his charioteer. “Vahuka, Queen Damayanti’s second swayamvara is being
held tomorrow. I must reach there by dawn. Only you can drive me to
Vidarbha in one day. Ready the horses.” Nala was stunned. “Has Damayanti
lost her love for me that she is marrying again? But for what I have done to
her, I probably deserve this.”

He carefully chose the horses. Rituparna was surprised. “Why have you
selected such thin, weak-looking horses?” “Don’t worry, my king. They
won’t let you down,” Nala replied.
The chariot was zooming at speed when Rituparna cried, “Stop. My
shoulder cloth has been blown away.” “I can’t turn back, my king,” Vahuka
said, “we have already travelled very far from that spot.” A few minutes
later, they passed a Vibhitaka or Bellica tree laden with fruit. The king said,
“Stop a minute. Do you see that tree, Vahuka? Let me show you my powers
of calculation.” Almost immediately, the king told Vahuka how many leaves
and fruit there were on two of the front branches. “You can verify if you
wish.” Nala was overcome with curiosity. He got down from the chariot and
started counting the leaves and fruit. But it took him some time. The king
waited for him to finish. “You are right on the mark, Your Majesty,” Vahuka
exclaimed. “Teach me your skill and I will give you my knowledge of
horses.”

Rituparna liked the deal. He taught Nala the science of numbers, and also
how to throw dice. The moment Nala received this knowledge, Kali, who
had for so long lived inside and controlled Nala, rushed out, coughing and
retching out the poison of Karkotaka. Burn marks of the venom covered his
body. Nala looked at him with rage. “Don’t be angry with me, Nala,” Kali
said. “I have left you and will not trouble you again. May all who hear your
story never experience misfortune − this is my boon to you.” Nala forgave
Kali and let him go. Kali had been visible only to Nala, not to Rituparna or
Varshneya. “It’s getting late. Let’s get moving,” the king urged Nala.

Nala stroked the horses gently and whispered words of encouragement in

their ears. He and Rituparna got into the chariot. Varshneya took his place
as second charioteer. Nala lightly ran the reins across the horses’ backs.
They leapt forward and began to run. Rituparna watched in amazement.
The chariot seemed to be flying through the air. The countryside zipped
past them in a blur, such was the speed Nala had coaxed from the horses.
“The same musical hum, that same melodious roar of wheels as when my
old master used to drive the chariot. Could Vahuka be Nala?” Varshneya
wondered.

They took off again. With the speed of wind, they reached the outskirts of
Vidarbha. Its citizens looked up at the skies. “We’ve heard that beautiful
sound before. When our king’s son-in-law came to visit us, his chariot
wheels would sing with these same, sweet vibrations.” King Bhima too
looked up at the sky. In his stables, the horses whinnied with pleasure,
reminded of their favourite friend. Elephants and peacocks began to call
out joyously as they do when they hear the rumble of rain clouds
approaching.

Damayanti came running to the terrace as the chariot came to a stop at the
palace. Rituparna looked around. No preparations for a swayamvara
seemed to be going on. Embarrassed, he pretended he had come on a
courtesy visit. Bhima, who did not know about Damayanti’s plan, was also
surprised, but received him respectfully. “Stay a few days,” he said.

Damayanti watched the man who had brought in the chariot in a single
day. He did not look like Nala at all. She decided to set the last few tests to
discover the charioteer’s true identity. “Keshini,” she said to her maid. “King
Rituparna wants to give us a taste of his charioteer’s superb cooking. Go
and help Vahuka in the kitchen. If he asks you to bring water or fire, take a
long time to bring them. Hide and watch all that happens and all that he
does. Then come and tell me everything.”

Keshini left and returned some time later. She looked excited. “My queen, it
was unbelievable. When I went to help Vahuka, he tried to send me away,
but I insisted. To make me feel useful, he asked for water to wash the meat
and vegetables, and for a lighted stick to start the fire. I said I would bring
them in a second, but hid and watched. I made him wait and wait. Then,
losing patience, he just looked at the empty vessels. At once, they became
filled with water. He took some vegetable fibres and exposed them to the
sun’s rays. One look and they lit up. How could such things have
happened?” “Because of the boons the gods gave him,” Damayanti
thought. Her heart was beating fast.

“Then do you know what he did?” Keshini continued, eyes wide in wonder.
“He wanted to go to the underground cellar to bring some stored dals. The
cellar entrance is very low, but as he came near, it just rose and he walked
right through without needing to bend. Then, as he waited for the dals to
cook, he absent-mindedly stroked some dry-looking flowers lying nearby.
They simply came alive and became fresh and lustrous again.”

“Again because of the other boons he received. Nala, Nala, it is you, then,”
Damayanti said to herself.

Keshini then went and brought a platter of food. “Here are some of
Vahuka’s preparations,” she said. “The same rich aromas, the same delicate
flavour of the food you used to make for me with so much love, Nala,”
Damayanti said, softly. She then conducted her last test.

In the kitchen, Vahuka was surprised to see Keshini return. There were two
children with her. They were the twins, Indrasena and Indrasenaa. How
would Vahuka react? The charioteer looked searchingly at them. Then he
ran forward and took them in his arms. “Four years have passed since I last
saw you…” he cried out, then quickly stopped himself. “I… I meant to say…
they remind me of my own children whom I have not seen for four years.”
But Vahuka’s eyes, his tears, had completely given him away. Keshini
reported the results of the last test.

Damayanti requested a meeting with Nala. They met like birds long
separated. Nala thought of the helpful Karkotaka, and putting on the two
cloths he had given him, became the old Nala again. The entire kingdom of
Vidarbha burst out in celebration that Nala had been found. Rituparna
embraced Nala happily, and Nala taught him the knowledge of horses.

With Dwapara gone and Nala now an expert at dice, he won back his
kingdom from Pushkara in a single game. Pushkara asked for forgiveness,
which Nala readily gave, just as he had forgiven Kali.

They had crossed every obstacle bravely; now the fruits of happiness lay
waiting for Nala and Damayanti to enjoy.