The king of Vidarbha, Nagnagit, and his queen, Mithravaruni, were at length relieved from the tormenting anxiety that had long clouded their hearts when their daughter Lopamudra, in serene devotion, declared her willingness to accept the sage Agastya as her lord. Yet, even as they yielded to her resolve, faint shadows of doubt lingered. They wondered whether she had surrendered herself to the sage’s influence born of his ascetic might, or whether, by a strange destiny, she must sacrifice her royal ease to avert the wrath of a seer. For by any measure of mortal judgment, such a union seemed most unequal. She, the princess of Vidarbha, nursed in soft splendour and trained in command, radiant in beauty and accustomed to luxury; he, a wanderer of forests, feeding upon roots and fruits, dwelling in solitude, and sternly devoted to penance and ritual. Between them stretched the wide gulf that separates heaven and earth — their emotions, desires, pursuits, and ways of life were far apart.
But Lopamudra, calm in thought and lofty in understanding, dispelled their doubts with words of rare wisdom. “The life of sages,” she said, “is revered by all the worlds. Their penance and knowledge are the wealth of mankind; they fight the inner battles that preserve cosmic order, even as kings protect their subjects. Their mastery over senses is mastery over nature, which is the virtue of the gods themselves. Unlike kings, they seek peace instead of conquest, and the treasure they covet is wisdom, not gold. Blessed indeed is the woman who wins the grace of such a man. Give me, therefore, to the sage without hesitation; it is fortune, not sacrifice.” She added softly, “Though my heart, being mortal, is drawn to worldly grace, in time the sage shall temper and uplift it. Between us there shall be love and peace in equal measure.”
Her words, like light upon darkness, melted the doubts of her parents. They bowed before Agastya, who accepted their daughter as his lawful wife according to sacred rites. The hymns of the Veda filled the air; ancient instruments poured forth auspicious sounds; and the earth itself seemed to vibrate with sanctity. When the ceremony was over, the sage adorned her no longer with jewels and silk but with holy beads, coarse linen, and the skin of the deer. Thus attired, Lopamudra followed him from palace to forest, from luxury to austerity, with unshaken grace.
Her spirit was moulded by deep thought and devotion. She made no lament for the vanished pomp of courtly life, nor sighed for pleasure lost; she conquered comfort by will and won peace by surrender. Yet, in due course, the sage, drawn by nature’s law, beheld her with affection and confessed his desire. Lopamudra, in the natural frankness of her royal youth, said gently, “It is but right that a wife should bear children by her husband. Yet, if you wish me to yield wholly, adorn me once again as a princess and come to me thus.”
The sage smiled, perceiving the delicate balance between asceticism and the grace of worldly life. “Your wish is just,” he said, “but I possess neither gold nor finery, for these belong to kings, not to hermits. I may not use the fruit of penance for personal pleasure.” Then, to fulfil her desire righteously, he went forth to seek the wealth lawfully.
He visited King Srutarva, who honoured him with devotion but confessed that his treasury held no surplus beyond the needs of duty. Together they went to King Bhradnaswa, whose realm was burdened with debt. Then both, along with Agastya, approached King Trasadasyu, son of the noble Purukutsa, who too declared his revenues just met his obligations. Yet he advised them, “In the land of Manimathipura dwells Illvala, the demon-king, rich beyond all measure. He will grant your request.”
Thus, the sage and the kings went to Illvala, who, following his cruel custom, offered them food that concealed the flesh of his brother Vatapi. The kings trembled and urged Agastya not to partake, but the sage said calmly, “It is unrighteous to reject food offered in hospitality. Let me accept it.” He ate the meal in silence, and when Illvala, according to his evil habit, called out for Vatapi to emerge and slay the guests, Agastya simply uttered, “Vatapi, be digested.” The demon’s power vanished forever. Illvala, struck with fear yet outwardly smiling, asked the purpose of the sage’s visit.
Agastya replied, “These kings, mindful of their duties, have directed me to you for the means to fulfil a virtuous desire. Give, therefore, ten thousand pieces of gold and ten thousand cows to each of them, and twice that to me, with a golden chariot.” Illvala, subdued and awed, granted all that was asked. Thus, the sage returned, accompanied by celestial steeds, the chariot shining like dawn, and the wealth fit to honour his wife’s wish.
With this fortune, Agastya adorned Lopamudra as befitted a queen and fulfilled her longing. In due season, he said, “Choose your boon. Shall you bear a hundred sons of tenfold might, or ten sons of hundredfold strength, or one son equal to a thousand?” She replied, “Grant me one son, O sage, mighty in virtue and knowledge, for what are a thousand without wisdom?” Agastya blessed her, and in her womb, she bore the child for seven years, during which he learned the Vedas even before his birth.
At last, she brought forth a radiant boy, glowing like the tender sun. They named him Drdhasyu, a scholar born of light and wisdom. His son was Tejasvi, famed for strength and devotion, who could lift great logs for the sacred fires and hence was called Idhmavaha, the bearer of fuel. Through them, Agastya fulfilled the debt to his ancestors and sanctified his line.
Thus, the story reveals how kings, though free to enjoy the world, must remain bound by righteousness, and how even a sage, endowed with divine power, refrains from using it for selfish ends. It shows the harmony of austerity and affection, wisdom and wealth, restraint and fulfilment. Lopamudra’s virtue, matched with her understanding, preserved the honour of her husband while satisfying the dignity of her womanhood. This tale stands as a timeless lesson for rulers and servants alike — of honesty in governance, moderation in desire, and duty performed without pride.
