Ugrasravas, the revered bard, continued his narration of the Mahabharata, his voice weaving a spell that held the assembled sages in rapt, wordless silence. Amid that sacred gathering, Dharmaja, the son of Dharma, was ever composed—his calm words alone sufficed to cool the blazing impulses of Bhīmasena, fixing his mind within the bounds of time and reason, lest any untimely provocation disturb their unity.
One day, into that hermitage came the sage Bṛhadaśva. Dharmaja, as was his wont, received the venerable guest with honour and service, offering rest and refreshment. When the sage, his repose complete, turned his mind again to discourse, Dharmaja spoke of the deceit of their enemies, the calamity of the dice, and the hardships now endured in exile. “O sage,” he said, “has there ever been a king who, like us, forsook his throne and dwelt in forests? Enlighten me, O best among the wise.”
Bṛhadaśva, smiling gently, replied, “Indeed, O son of Dharma, your trials are great. Yet you are blessed—with your heroic brothers beside you, with sages who illumine your path with spiritual counsel, and with the arms and chariots befitting your lineage. Your forest life, though devoid of royal splendour, is bound by righteousness, and thus fruitful.”
In this, two views arose. Dharmaja held that their forest life deprived them of royal dignity and command, while Bṛhadaśva perceived that worldly pleasures and pomp ensnare kings, hindering true enlightenment. “This forest,” said the sage, “is no desolation, but a university of life—refining men to the purity of wisdom. By hardship, the mind is tempered; as gold shines brighter when melted, as a diamond reveals its luster when polished, so too the soul gleams through trial. Such discipline nourishes a cultural and spiritual renaissance.”
Perceiving Dharmaja’s silent wonder, the sage continued, “In ancient days, there was a king named Nala, lord of Niṣadha, who ruled with righteousness and compassion. His reign was famed for excellence, yet by the strange decree of fate he lost his kingdom in a game of dice to his brother Puṣkara, and wandered in the wilderness enduring grievous afflictions.”
When Dharmaja entreated to hear his story, Bṛhadaśva began: “Viraseṇa was the king of Niṣadha, and his son was Nala, whose brilliance was like a blazing gem among men. He commanded mighty hosts—each division of his army, an akṣauhiṇī, numbering twenty-one thousand chariots, as many elephants, sixty-five thousand horses, and one hundred and nine thousand three hundred- and fifty-foot soldiers. His governance pleased all hearts, for under him none knew want or discord.”
“In the land of Vidarbha reigned King Bhīma, who had long been childless. By the grace of a sage’s blessing, three sons and one daughter were born to him—the sons Dāma, Dānta, and Damana, and the daughter Damayantī. She was radiant, delicate, and virtuous, her beauty surpassing that of the Siddha, Yakṣa, and Gandharva maidens. In time, the fame of Nala reached her ears, and his virtues echoed in her heart. Thus, without meeting, their souls grew entwined.”
“One day, Nala, wandering in his garden, beheld a flock of swans alighting upon the earth, their white feathers gleaming like moonlight scattered upon clouds. He smiled at their graceful walk and caught one gently in his hands. The others, alarmed, circled above with cries of distress, as though pleading for their captured kin. The bird, trembling, spoke in a human voice: ‘Release me, O King, and I shall repay you. I will go to Damayantī, the jewel of Vidarbha, and speak to her of your virtues, so that her heart may open unto you.’”
Nala released the swan, his heart kindled with tender hope. The bird and its companions flew to Vidarbha, where Damayantī, rejoicing in the sight of the graceful flock, chased them with her companions. Amid their play, they caught the queen of the swans and brought her to Damayantī. Then the bird spoke, “O princess, I come from Nala, lord of Niṣadha, whose splendour eclipses that of all kings. His virtues are without peer. If you become his bride, your beauty, grace, fortune, and lineage shall shine with greater glory, as two jewels joined in perfect harmony.”
Damayantī listened, her heart trembling with joy. “O messenger of love,” she said, “as you have spoken of him, so too speak of me before him.” The swan departed and told Nala of Damayantī’s matchless grace and devotion. From that day, their hearts yearned for each other. They lived in longing, seeking solace in the soft winds of gardens, gazing upon lotus ponds, anointing themselves with sandal and musk, yet finding peace only in thoughts of one another.
But soon Damayantī’s companions noted her pallor and wandering mind. Her laughter had faded, her ornaments lay neglected, and her gaze was ever fixed upon the path where the swan had flown. Distressed, they reported to King Bhīma that the princess had lost all joy and spoke only of Nala. Moved by concern, the king proclaimed a svayaṃvara, summoning princes and monarchs from all realms.
Soon the city resounded with the thunder of chariots and elephants, neighing horses, and banners fluttering in myriad hues. At that very time, the sages Nārada and Parvata visited Indra’s celestial court. Indra, honouring them, inquired, “O sages, in ancient times kings of virtue would ascend to heaven, yet now few arrive. Why is this so?” Nārada replied, “O Lord of the Gods, there is now upon earth a maiden of unparalleled beauty—Damayantī. Her svayaṃvara is to be held, and every ruler of the world is gathering there. Even the gods may be moved by her radiance.”
Thus, impelled by curiosity and purpose, Indra and the Dikpālas resolved to behold this divine event. On the way, they beheld Nala, shining with a grace like Viṣṇu himself, journeying to the same gathering. The gods addressed him: “O Nala, King of Niṣadha, act as our emissary. Go before Damayantī and speak our names and virtues to her.”
Nala, bowing with folded hands, said with dignity, “O Lords of Heaven, both you and I seek the same end. To act as envoy in this matter is neither fair nor fitting.” But Indra replied, “You have given your word, O Nala, and truth is your highest virtue. Fail not in your promise; serve the gods in their wish.”
Thus, between word and heart, between duty and love, Nala stood poised—his spirit the meeting ground of virtue and passion. From that moment began one of the most delicate tests of fate, a divine drama of truth, devotion, and the mysterious play of destiny—a tale whose echo would resound through the spiritual annals of the ancient world.
