Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 5 - Sambhava - Chapter 4 - Śakuntalā’s Birth

Śakuntalā continued:

“My father Kaṇva, in reply to that sage's inquiry, narrated what he himself had once heard:

‘In ancient times, Viśvāmitra, devoted to the fiercest austerities, grew so powerful that Indra, king of the gods, became fearful that the sage might shake his very seat in heaven through the force of his penance.

Disturbed, Indra summoned Menakā, foremost among the Apsarases, and said:

“O Menakā, thou art the most graceful among the celestials. I ask of thee a task that only thou canst perform. Viśvāmitra, blazing like the midday sun, has been immersed in harsh penance. Should his strength grow further, I fear he may claim what is mine.

Go to him. Distract his austerity. Use thy beauty, thy voice, and gentle arts to lead him from his path.”

Menakā, folding her hands, answered respectfully:

“O lord of the celestials, I obey—but know that this task is fraught with danger. The sage is not only mighty, he is also quick to wrath. His anger once struck even the noble Vasiṣṭha with grief. Though born a Kṣatriya, he has earned Brāhmaṇa-hood through penance alone.

It was he who created the river Kauśikī for his ablutions. When famine came, his wife was fed by Triśaṅku, then cursed and wandering as a hunter. In return, Viśvāmitra made him priest and performed his sacrifice, forcing the gods themselves to drink Soma under fear.

He once created a second heaven, filled with stars beginning with Śravaṇa, and gave refuge to Triśaṅku against divine law. His power can shake mountains. He can circle the ten directions in a moment.

His eyes are the sun and moon;

His breath, a storm; his anger, ruin.

How shall I, a woman, even stand before him?”

Yet, obedient to Indra’s will, she added:

“If I must go, then let me not go alone. Let Marut, the wind-god, strip me of my garment at the right moment. Let Kāma, the god of love, aid me with desire’s subtle fire. Let the breezes bring perfumes from forest blossoms to awaken his senses. With all this, perhaps, the sage’s mind will turn.”

Seeing that all her conditions were met, Menakā departed for the forest retreat of the great Kauśika (Viśvāmitra).”

Śakuntalā continued:

“And Kaṇva said, when questioned by the visiting sage:

‘Śakra (Indra), hearing Menakā’s hesitation, commanded Marut, the god of wind, who can enter all places unseen, to assist her at the right moment.

Obedient to that divine scheme, Menakā entered the forest retreat. There she beheld Viśvāmitra, shining with ascetic fire, purified of all sin by the rigour of his penances, yet still absorbed in austerity.

She approached and saluted him respectfully. Then, as she lingered in the grove, she began to move gracefully, dancing lightly, as if at play. Just at that moment, Marut, by Indra’s design, stirred the wind and stole away her garments—white as moonlight.

She ran in feigned distress to retrieve them, casting glances of modesty and annoyance, performing it all within the sage’s view. And Viśvāmitra, though firm in vows, looked upon her.

He saw her form—flawless, youthful, adorned not by ornament but by nature—and his resolve wavered.

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Desire, long buried, rose like flame;

The fire of penance turned to name.

And thus the ṛṣi, strong in soul,

Gave way where even gods lose hold.

He gestured his desire, and Menakā, with grace, accepted his company. They remained together in the grove for a long time—though to them it passed like a single day. And from that union, she conceived and bore a daughter, who was named later Śakuntalā.

As her term drew near, Menakā went to the banks of the Mālinī, a sacred river flowing through the Himavat mountains. There, in that peaceful valley, she gave birth to the child. But, being bound still to the celestial realms, she left the newborn on the riverbank and departed.

The forest was wild, filled with lions and tigers, yet no harm came to the infant. A circle of vultures descended and surrounded her, guarding her silently.

No beast drew near, no claw was raised—

The child was kept, the gods amazed.

For though abandoned, she was not alone,

Protected by wings, not flesh and bone.

It was there, O sage, that I came to perform my ablutions. I saw her lying amidst the birds, untouched by harm, surrounded by silence and wings. Moved with compassion, I brought her home and raised her as my own.

The scriptures speak of three fathers: he who gives the body, he who sustains life, and he who offers wisdom and food. I am her father in the truest sense.

Because she was protected by śakuntas—birds—on that lonely riverbank, I named her Śakuntalā, ‘she who was guarded by birds.’

And since that day, she has been to me a daughter in truth and spirit.”

Śakuntalā concluded:

“This is what my father Kaṇva told the sage who had once asked. So now, O king, you know—I am the daughter of Kaṇva. I know no other. Though my body was born of Menakā and Viśvāmitra, it is he who raised me, taught me, and gave me a name.

Thus have I told you all that has come to me regarding my birth.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

Hearing all that Śakuntalā had spoken, King Duṣmanta, deeply moved, responded with warmth and admiration.

“Well spoken, O princess, truly well spoken!

Come, be my queen, O graceful one.

Garlands of gold, robes of silk,

Pearls from distant shores, coins and fine carpets—

All these I shall give to thee today.

Let the kingdom itself be thine!”

“O lovely one,” he continued, “wedding me now according to the Gandharva rite, be mine. Among all forms of marriage, that of mutual love—so say the wise—is highest for a Kṣatriya.”

Śakuntalā answered in modest tones, “My father hath gone to gather fruit. Wait but a little, O King. He will bestow me upon thee.”

But Duṣmanta, earnest and full of desire, replied:

“In truth, thou art thine own mistress.

A self-given bride is no breach of dharma.

Eight forms of marriage the sages describe—

Brahma, Daiva, Ārṣa, and Prajāpatya,

Then Āsura, Gandharva, Rākṣasa, and the eighth—Paiśāca.

Of these, the first four are for Brāhmaṇas,

The next two also suit Kṣatriyas.

The Gandharva—pure, born of love—

Is praised as highest for royal men.”

He added, “There is no sin in this. With hearts aligned and desires known, let us unite.”

Śakuntalā, hearing his learned words and his heartfelt plea, gave her consent—but with one firm condition:

“If this be sanctioned by dharma, and I am free to give myself,

Then, O scion of Puru, hear my resolve:

The son born of this union shall be thy heir.

If thou acceptest this vow, let us be one.”

Without delay or doubt, Duṣmanta said:

“So be it. I swear by dharma and truth.

Come with me to my capital,

Where thou shalt be queen over all I rule.”

Thus the noble monarch took Śakuntalā as his wife in the Gandharva manner, their hearts bound without ritual or witness. He stayed awhile in the āśrama, assuring her again and again that he would return with his royal retinue to escort her.

Then, setting forth for his capital, he began to ponder Kaṇva's response.

“What will the venerable Ṛṣi say,

When he learns of our union, done in secret?”

With such thoughts, the king entered his city.

Just then, Kaṇva returned to his hermitage. But Śakuntalā, modest and shy, did not come out to greet him. The great sage, possessed of spiritual vision, saw all clearly.

Smiling gently, he said to her:

“Fear not, child. What hath been done

Is no sin and no disgrace.

The Gandharva rite, when hearts are pure,

Is honoured by the wise.”

He continued, “Duṣmanta is a man of virtue. You have chosen well. The son born of this union will be mighty—a ruler of the sea-girt earth. His armies will be irresistible.”

Relieved and joyous, Śakuntalā brought water and fruits for her father, washed his feet, and humbly spoke:

“O father, bestow thy blessings on King Duṣmanta,

Whom I have accepted as husband,

And on those who serve him.”

Kaṇva, moved by affection, replied:

“O fair one, for thy sake I shall bless him.

Speak now, ask the boon thou desirest.”

Then Śakuntalā, ever loyal in heart, said:

“Grant this, O revered one—

That the kings born in Duṣmanta’s line

May ever be righteous,

And never lose the thrones they inherit.”