OS on short stories contained in Mahabharat - Page 3

Originally posted by: Astraea1306

The story of Nala and Damayanti is just amazing...Do you want to narrate it. I know it's bit too big. If you want we can share it in half and half. You narrate the first part and I will narrate the later part or vice versa, as you wish.

Hey, I was actually writing it. Did not see your post before. When I started, I did not think its going to be so big.😆 Anyways, I have finished it in the post above.

Cool..now I am going to read your story. Thanks for being active.

It's a lovely topic. I really wanted something like in the forum. I wish more people participated.

Thanks for retelling the story of Nala and Damayantī. I have alluded to it in one of my fan fictions, chapter nine.

https://www.indiaforums.com/fanfiction/chapter/21558

Here are my few observations about the culture portrayed in the story, other than what I've already written about kinship terms.

Birds were food for humans; that is why the goose/swan asks Nala not to kill him, and why Nala in exile, starving for three days, tries to catch the birds.

When Damayantī becomes lovesick, her father Bhīma doesn't see it for himself. He is informed by her girlfriends. This detail implies that unmarried princesses resided separately from the King, just as the King's mother has to come out of his inner apartments to visit her daughter Sunandā. Damayantī's girlfriends may have been courtesans who attended the King at court to fan him with yak-tail whisks. Later, Damayantī sends her nurse Bṛhatsenā, whose name ending in senā is typical of courtesans, to summon Nala's ministers who represent the citizens. Damayantī also sends Bṛhatsenā to send men to summon Vārṣṇeya, who may be the same sūta who first reported to Damayantī that the citizens were at the door, wanting an audience with Nala.

Indra notices that kings are not visiting his world by dying in battle. Romantic attraction to Damayantī has distracted them from their usual occupation of fighting to the death. This comical problem reminds me of the theme of Aristophanes' comedy Lysistrata.

The svayaṃvara assembly is described as full of men's muscular arms and handsome faces, as if the audience should identify with Damayantī who has her pick of attractive suitors. This is one of the story's aspects that suggests that the author was a woman.

Just as Damayantī later kills the hunter by invoking the power of her fidelity - but only when the time to escape through talk is past (atīta-vāk-pathe kāle), Damayantī prays that the four divine suitors should reveal themselves out of regard for the honesty and steadfastness of her choice of Nala (Āraṇyakaparvan 54.17-20):

haṃsānāṃ vacanaṃ śrutvā yathā me Naiṣadho vṛtaḥ

patitve tena satyena devās taṃ pradiśantu me

vācā ca manasā c'aiva yathā n'ābhicarāmy aham

tena satyena vibudhās tam eva pradiśantu me

yathā devaiḥ sa me bhartā vihito Niṣadh'ādhipaḥ

tena satyena me devās tam eva pradiśantu me

svaṃ c'aiva rūpaṃ puṣyantu loka-pālāḥ sah'eśvarāḥ

yathā'ham abhijānīyāṃ Puṇyaślokaṃ nar'ādhipam

Thereupon, Damayantī is able to discern the characteristics of divinity for which she has been scrutinizing the five identical men:

sā'paśyad vibudhān sarvān asvedān stabdha-locanān

hṛṣita-srag-rajo-hīnān sthitān aspṛśataḥ kṣitim

chāyā-dvitīyo mlāna-srag rajaḥ-sveda-samanvitaḥ

bhūmiṣṭho Naiṣadhaś c'aiva nimeṣeṇa ca sūcitaḥ

She saw all of the deities without sweat, steady-eyed, with blooming garlands and without dust, standing without touching the ground. And in fact, seconded by his shadow, with fading garland, possessed of dust and sweat, standing on the earth, the man of Niṣadha was indicated by blinking eyes too.

Damayantī's preference for mortal Nala is a parallel to the Greek myth of Marpessa, who chose mortal Idas over divine Apollo because she wanted a husband who would grow old with her, not tire of her when his youth outlasted hers.

The eight favours given to Nala as congratulations on being chosen by Damayantī were:

pratyakṣa-darśanaṃ yajñe gatiṃ c'ānuttamāṃ śubhām

Naiṣadhāya dadau Śakraḥ prīyamāṇaḥ Śacī-patiḥ

Agnir ātma-bhavaṃ prādād yatra vāñchati Naiṣadhaḥ

lokān ātma-prabhāṃś c'aiva dadau tasmai Hut'āśanaḥ

Yamas tv anna-rasaṃ prādād dharme ca paramāṃ sthitim

Apāṃpatir apāṃ bhāvaṃ yatra vāñchati Naiṣadhaḥ

srajaṃ c'ottama-gandh'āḍhyāṃ sarve ca mithunaṃ daduḥ

In each pair of favours, one confers religious exaltation (actual vision in yajña, fiery bright rebirth, firmness in dharma, garland of everlasting fragrance) and the other confers a magical power (extraordinary speed, fire-making, tasty cooking, water-production) by which Damayantī will recognize Nala.

Damayantī's words regarding the tiger, the mountain, and the aśoka tree are full of royal imagery, as if each of them, being King of the Forest, would have noticed his counterpart Nala.

Thus, when Nala is exalted to the point that Gods impersonate him, Damayantī notices his mortal failings, and when Nala is degraded, Damayantī looks for his royal and superhuman attributes.

Karkoṭaka tells Nala to count his steps aloud for this reason: the number ten (daśa) is a homonym of the imperative verb "Bite!" Thus, Karkoṭaka tricks Nala into giving consent to be bitten.

Karkoṭaka gives Nala a pair of garments (vāso-yugaṃ), telling him to wear this garment (vāsaḥ - singular) when he wants to recover his original appearance. The pair would consist of an inner garment (antarīya) and an outer garment (uttarīya). Ṛtuparṇa will lose his uttarīya on the way to Damayantī, making him less outfitted than Nala just before the restoration of Nala's status as Damayantī's handsome husband.

Nala began his exile wearing only an antarīya (which he lost trying to catch birds), and Damayantī also was wearing only one garment (of which she lost half when Nala separated from her). When Damayantī met the Rājamātṛ of Cedi, she was still wearing only the cut-off half-garment, meaning that the caravan did not give her a change of clothes, even though they travelled for many days.

Should we infer that clothes, being hand-woven from laboriously spun flax or cultivated silk, were too valuable to be given casually to the needy? Or that Damayantī, described as unbathed, was simply observing the custom of self-neglect that was expected of a wife when her husband was away?

Nala, applying for work, only asks Ṛtuparṇa to support him: "Ṛtuparṇa, bharasva mām!" (It was not impolite to address the King simply by his personal name.) Ṛtuparṇa, however, doesn't just give Nala room and board while he earns his keep; he assigns him a salary of a hundred hundreds: "Vetanaṃ te śataṃ śatāḥ." We are not told the currency (cows? horses? cowrie shells? copper? silver? gold?) or the payment schedule (daily? monthly? annually?), but the amount might be a hyperbole to show how impressed Ṛtuparṇa was.

This is the śloka that Nala recites every evening, thinking of Damayantī:

kva nu sā kṣut-pipās'ārtā śrāntā śete tapasvinī

smarantī tasya mandasya kaṃ vā sā'dy'opatiṣṭhati

Where might she be, distressed by hunger and thirst? Tired, where does she lie down austerely, remembering that fool? Or whom does she attend now?

This reminds me of the śloka with which another man separated from his woman begins his song of lamentation for his homeland (Karṇaparvan 30.20):

sā nūnaṃ bṛhatī gaurī sūkṣma-kambala-vāsinī

mām anusmaratī śete Bāhlīkaṃ Kuru-vāsinam

Surely that tall, fair woman, wearing a sheer blanket-robe, lies down remembering me, a Bāhlīka living in Kuru!

From these songs, we know that men who worked far from home, thousands of years ago, felt the same urge to tell their roommates about the women waiting for them to come back, just as men in the armed forces or at truck stops talk to each other today.

Ever since I first listened to this story, I have wondered why Damayantī didn't tell the truth when she introduced herself to the Rājamātṛ of Cedi. She told her real name to the hunter, the disappearing hermits, the caravan ...

Now Damayantī has met a motherly, law-abiding lady with the resources to reunite her with her children, parents and brothers, maybe even with her husband ...

Why, at this juncture, does Damayantī disguise herself as a servant and waste time wallowing in her own body-grime without a bath?

Did Damayantī not know that King Subāhu of Cedi, described as satya-vādin - honest-spoken - by the caravan-leader and by the narrator Bṛhadaśva, was her maternal aunt's son? Growing up, did Damayantī never hear from her mother about her maternal aunt in Cedi? After twelve years of marriage with Nala, whom she describes as a warrior hero, invading his enemies' cities, did Damayantī not know the political who's who?

Even when Damayantī leaves Cedi for Vidarbha, surrounded by a large force and riding in a vehicle carried by men, the arrangements are made by the Rājamātṛ. She has her son's agreement, but there is no mention of communication between Damayantī and Subāhu.

Was Subāhu one of those enemies whom Nala had defeated in battle? Was Damayantī concerned that Subāhu might hold her hostage if she identified herself as Nala's queen?

By the way, for anyone who finds it annoying that the narrator leaves Damayantī's mother and Sunandā's mother nameless ... we can call them Cāru and Darśanā, respectively, by an alternative translation of what the Rājamātṛ says: sute Daśārṇ'ādhipateḥ Sudāmnaś cāru-darśane - two daughters of the overlord of Daśārṇa, Sudāman, you of lovely appearance! The word cāru-darśane, which I think is a vocative addressed to Damayantī, could also be interpreted as a dual nominative - the Rājamātṛ tells Damayantī, "Your mother and I appeared lovely when we were girls." Or, it could be interpreted as proper names, "two daughters named Cāru and Darśanā."

I guess it has something to do with "so that story could happen" kind of writing. This is why I hate the miscommunication trope!

What a coincidence! I was trying to make sense of something that Damayantī said in anticipation of reunion with Nala (Āraṇyakaparvan 71.13-14):

na smarāmy anṛtaṃ kiṃ cin na smarāmy anupākṛtam

na ca paryuṣitaṃ vākyaṃ svaireṣv api mahātmanaḥ

prabhuḥ kṣamāvān vīraś ca mṛdur dānto jit'endriyaḥ

raho'nīc'ānuvartī ca klībavan mama Naiṣadhaḥ

I can't remember any deceit; I can't remember anything unmethodical, nor a tasteless speech even in privacy from the great-natured man ... capable, enduring, heroic, gentle, tame, in possession of his senses, secretly not following low examples - basically queer is my man of Niṣadha!

And then I saw this post of yours:

https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/163420691

Jayaḥ - Iti-H'Āsaḥ

Triumph - Thus It Actually Was

Long ago, there was a story of political intrigue and battle. We don't know what the story was exactly. Maybe its events actually took place thousands of years ago, somewhere near the lands of Sindhu and Sauvīra that now lie in Pakistan, and maybe the ballad travelled eastward from bard to bard until a historical Kuntī living in Hāstinapura quoted one dialogue from it to inspire her sons to fight. The story might also have been entirely fiction, earlier or later than Mahābhārata's core narrative. It may have been a popular story for a few centuries, but any efforts to preserve it like Mahābhārata did not succeed. Today, only the clues in that quoted dialogue (Udyogaparvan chapters 131-134) allow me to guess what story to tell you.

Most of the dialogue is spoken by Vidurā, whom Kuntī describes thus:

yaśasvinī manyumatī kule jātā vibhāvarī

kṣatra-dharma-ratā dhanyā Vidurā dīrgha-darśinī

viśrutā rāja-saṃsatsu śruta-vākyā bahuśrutā

Vidurā nāma vai satyā

Glorious, irascible, nobly born, brilliant, dedicated to a kṣatriya's morality, blessed Vidurā was far-sighted. Renowned, with speeches listened to in royal assemblies, much educated, Vidurā was her name indeed, and she was honest.

In which country Vidurā was nobly born and much educated, we do not know. Her speech includes a phrase used also by Kuntī:

ahaṃ mahākule jātā hradād dhradam iv'āgatā

I was born in a grand noble family, and came here as if from pond to pond.

So, our story begins with a grand noble family, perhaps royalty. Like a cool pond on a summer day, it was sheltered from the perils of ordinary life. A girl child was born into this nobility, and she was named Vidurā. She was given an education, possibly before marriage. One of the authorities that she could quote was Śambara:

n'ātaḥ pāpīyasīṃ kāṃ cid avasthāṃ Śambaro'bravīt

yatra n'aiv'ādya na prātar bhojanaṃ pratidṛśyate

pati-putra-vadhād etat paramaṃ duḥkham abravīt

dāridryam iti yat proktaṃ paryāya-maraṇaṃ hi tat

Śambara said that there is no uglier situation than this: where neither now nor tomorrow is a meal foreseeable. He said that not the slaying of husband or son but this is the ultimate grief; what is termed poverty is constant dying, really.

Vidurā understood the dehumanizing nature of poverty. Determined that she would never live that way, she dedicated herself to kṣatra-dharma, the governing class's way of life, asserting her privilege of nobility:

vayam āśrayaṇīyāḥ sma n'āśritāraḥ parasya ca

sā'nyān āśritya jīvantī parityakṣyāmi jīvitam

We are givers of refuge to others, not seekers of refuge with others. If I have to live by resorting to others, I will give up my life!

The legend of the Ājāneya horse, who was mortally wounded but carried on with the battle, inspired Vidurā. She knew that the kṣatriya who provides safety and livelihood to others must be prepared to fight enemies:

udyamya dhuram utkarṣed Ājāneya-kṛtaṃ smaran

Making an effort, one should drag the yoke upward, remembering what Ājāneya did!

Vidurā was married to a royal who shared her belief that as kṣatriyas they had an obligation to provide for the needs of brāhmaṇas:

n'eti ced brāhmaṇān brūyāṃ dīryate hṛdayaṃ mama

na hy ahaṃ na ca me bhartā n'eti brāhmaṇam uktavān

If I am to say no to brāhmaṇas, my heart breaks. I never, nor did my husband say no to a brāhmaṇa.

Vidurā's husband may have exemplified her ideal of a generous king, which she described to her son Saṃjaya in these words:

anu tvāṃ tāta jīvantu brāhmaṇāḥ suhṛdas tathā

Parjanyam iva bhūtāni devā iva Śatakratum

yam ājīvanti puruṣaṃ sarva-bhūtāni Saṃjaya

pakvaṃ drumam iv'āsādya tasya jīvitam arthavat

yasya śūrasya vikrāntair edhante bāndhavāḥ sukham

tridaśā iva Śakrasya sādhu tasy'eha jīvitam

After you, my boy, may brāhmaṇas and well-wishers subsist, like beings after the Rain-God, like celestials after him of a Hundred Ceremonies. The person off whom all beings subsist, Saṃjaya, as if coming upon a tree of ripe fruit, his living is meaningful. The brave man whose exploits fuel his relatives' comfort, as do those of Śakra for the Thrice Ten, his living is applauded here.

Which kingdom Vidurā's husband ruled and where she made speeches in royal assemblies, we cannot say for certain. The dialogue names only two countries, of which Sindhu is the enemy and Sauvīra is favoured in contrast. Since Vidurā used the words gehe janī rājñaḥ - "taking birth in a royal's house" - to remind Saṃjaya of his pedigree, we can infer that her husband was a royal before her son's birth.

Vidurā was aware that previous generations of the family hadn't always lived comfortably, and yet they had never been anyone's followers:

samṛddhir asamṛddhir vā pūrveṣāṃ mama Saṃjaya

evaṃ vidvān yuddha-manā bhava mā pratyupāhara

My ancestors had prosperity or lack of prosperity, Saṃjaya. Knowing this, make up your mind to fight and don't retreat.

n'āsmiñ jātu kule jāto gacched yo'nyasya pṛṣṭhataḥ

Never in this family was born one who would go behind another.

Vidurā was respected by her husband and proud of the luxuries she enjoyed:

īśvarī sarva-kalyāṇair bhartrā parama-pūjitā

mahā'rha-māly'ābharaṇāṃ sumṛṣṭ'āmbara-vāsasam

I was the mistress, enjoying all fineries, most honoured by my husband. Of great price were my garlands and ornaments; well-cleaned fabric were my garments ...

Vidurā gave birth only once; her son referred to himself as putram ekajam - your son, the only one born. She named her son Saṃjaya - Total Triumph, wishing that he would fulfil his name:

anvartha-nāmā bhava me putra mā vyartha-nāmakaḥ

samyag-dṛṣṭir mahāprājño bālaṃ tvāṃ brāhmaṇo'bravīt

ayaṃ prāpya mahat kṛcchraṃ punar vṛddhiṃ gamiṣyati

Exist according to your name, my son; don't be futilely named! A clear-sighted brāhmaṇa of great wisdom said of you as a child, "This one will fall into great peril and go on to flourish again."

Given Vidurā's devotion to brāhmaṇas, it's quite possible that one of them did prophesy that her son would overcome difficulty. On the other hand, Vidurā was shrewd enough to make up an encouraging prophecy just to inspire Saṃjaya to fulfil it. Saṃjaya's behaviour early in life made Vidurā proud of him:

yadi kṛtyaṃ na paśyāmi tav'ādy'eha yathā purā

ślāghanīyaṃ yaśasyaṃ ca kā śāntir hṛdayasya me

If I don't see your agenda, right now, right here, praiseworthy and generating glory as before, what peace can my heart find?

It was normal for a prince or king like Saṃjaya to have sexual relations with courtesans who attended the royal court. However, it seems that Saṃjaya's affairs with courtesans sent by the King of Sindhu (who held the title of Saindhava) led to his defeat in battle by that enemy. Vidurā's allusion to this is quite vague:

uṣya Sauvīra-kanyābhiḥ ślāghasv'ārthair yathā purā

mā ca Saindhava-kanyānām avasanno vaśaṃ gamaḥ

yuvā rūpeṇa saṃpanno vidyayā'bhijanena ca

yas tvādṛśo vikurvīta yaśasvī loka-viśrutaḥ

voḍhavye dhury anaḍuvan manye maraṇam eva tat

Dwelling with girls of Sauvīra, win praise with your projects as before, and don't dejectedly fall under the influence of girls of Saindhava. Youthful with good looks, educated and of noble lineage, if someone glorious and famous in the world like you misbehaves like a bullock when the yoke is to be pulled, I think it's quite your death.

This is the only time that the dialogue mentions Sauvīra, and we can speculate whether this kingdom may have belonged to Vidurā's husband - so that her advice to Saṃjaya was to have affairs only with loyal courtesans owned by himself, or Sauvīra belonged to Vidurā's father and she was encouraging her son to satisfy his urges with frequent diplomatic visits to a close ally, or Sauvīra was the native kingdom of Saṃjaya's wife and the girls of Sauvīra were her companions who kept her husband entertained. It's also possible that the Sauvīra kingdom was allied with Saṃjaya simply to defend its border with Sindhu, and thus Vidurā thought of the girls of Sauvīra to help Saṃjaya to forget the girls sent by Saindhava.

The word kanyā can refer to a princess even after marriage, but if three or more daughters of Saindhava had been wives of Saṃjaya, it seems improbable that Saṃjaya would have been at war with the King of Sindhu, or that Vidurā would have told Saṃjaya to stay aloof from his Saindhava wives in favour of three or more wives from Sauvīra, using the verb uṣya - dwelling - instead of pūjya - honouring - the verb she uses for her husband's attention to herself. An earlier part of the dialogue unambiguously tells us that Vidurā recognized only one wife of Saṃjaya:

yadā māṃ c'aiva bhāryāṃ ca draṣṭā'si bhṛśa-durbale

na tadā jīviten'ārtho bhavitā tava Saṃjaya

When you have seen me and your wife severely weakened, then there will be no purpose to your living, Saṃjaya!

For the plot of our story, we must imagine what intrigue of Saindhava's girls brought about his defeat of Saṃjaya. Did the girls distract Saṃjaya from his duty to govern his kingdom? Did they come between him and his allies, or cleverly persuade Saṃjaya to adopt bad strategies for war? Whatever they did, Vidurā blamed Saṃjaya for the defeated plight of his family:

udbhāvaya kulaṃ magnaṃ tvatkṛte svayam eva hi

Our family has plunged on account of you; reinvigorate it yourself only, really!

avṛtty'aiva vipatsyāmo vayaṃ rāṣṭrāt pravāsitāḥ

sarva-kāma-rasair hīnāḥ sthāna-bhraṣṭā akiṃcanāḥ

avarṇa-kāriṇaṃ satsu kula-vaṃśasya nāśanam

Kaliṃ putra-pravādena Saṃjaya tvām ajījanam

niramarṣaṃ nirutsāhaṃ nirvīryam ari-nandanam

mā sma sīmantinī kā cij janayet putram īdṛśam

Only without livelihood, we are in trouble, exiled from our nation, deprived of enjoyment of all desires, separated from our position, having nothing at all. You who embarrass us among the honest, ruining our family and dynasty, are Kali - Collapse - whom I birthed, calling you a son, Saṃjaya! Without resentment, without enthusiasm, without heroism, delighting enemies - sure, no one who parts her hair should bear such a son!

However it may have happened, Saṃjaya was defeated by the King of Sindhu and he lay down, depressed. Vidurā gave him a harsh scolding, urging him to fight even if he had to die in a blaze of glory:

na mayā tvaṃ na pitrā'si jātaḥ kv'ābhyāgato hy asi

nirmanyur upaśākhīyaḥ puruṣaḥ klība-sādhanaḥ

You're not born through me, nor through your father; where have you dropped in, really? No rage, grabbing branches, a man with a queer's equipment!

alātaṃ tindukasy'eva muhūrtam api vijvala

mā tuṣ'āgnir iv'ānarciḥ kāka-raṅkhā jijīviṣuḥ

muhūrtaṃ jvalitaṃ śreyo na tu dhūmāyitaṃ ciram

Like a firebrand of tinduka wood, blaze even for an hour! Don't be without a spark like a chaff-fire, clinging to life like a fleeing crow! Burning for an hour is better, and longtime smoking isn't!

mā dhūmāya jval'ātyantam ākramya jahi śātravān

jvala mūrdhany amitrāṇāṃ muhūrtam api vā kṣaṇam

Don't be smoky! Burn to the limit! Attack and kill the enemy's men! Burn on the heads of unfriends for an hour or even for a second!

śūrasy'orjita-sattvasya siṃha-vikrānta-gāminaḥ

diṣṭa-bhāvaṃ gatasy'āpi vighase modate prajā

Even when a brave man of energetic spirit, moving like a leaping lion, has passed his fated existence, the populace enjoys his leftovers.

sarve te śatravaḥ sahyā na cej jīvitum icchasi

atha ced īdṛśīṃ vṛttiṃ klībām abhyupapadyase

All of your enemies can be resisted if you don't wish to survive, and if you do, you'll grow accustomed to a queer's livelihood like this.

We have to imagine whether Vidurā was a widow and Saṃjaya whom she addresses as Rājan - Royal - was King at this time, or Vidurā's husband was still Mahārāja and Vidurā expected Saṃjaya to fight as Yuvarāja or even as a junior prince like Arjuna in Mahābhārata. Clearly, Vidurā still liked to dress well and enjoy herself, because Saṃjaya asked her twice:

kiṃ nu te mām apaśyantyāḥ pṛthivyā api sarvayā

kim ābharaṇa-kṛtyaṃ te kiṃ bhogair jīvitena vā

If you don't see me, what will you do even with the entire earth; what will you have to do with ornaments, what with enjoyments or with life?

To this, Vidurā replied:

sa samīkṣya-kram'opeto mukhyaḥ kālo'yam āgataḥ

asmiṃś ced āgate kāle kāryaṃ na pratipadyase

asaṃbhāvita-rūpas tvaṃ sunṛśaṃsaṃ kariṣyasi

taṃ tvām ayaśasā spṛṣṭaṃ na brūyāṃ yadi Saṃjaya

kharī-vātsalyam āhus tan niḥsāmarthyam ahetukam

Now this crucial time has come with courses of action to consider. When this time has come, if you do not return to your task, you will appear incompetent and do very wrong. If I didn't talk to you who are touched by inglory, Saṃjaya, they'd call it a jenny's motherly love, worthless and unmotivating.

Although Vidurā mostly talked Saṃjaya out of his depression, repeatedly shaming him for being passive like a woman or a klība - queer - and describing the qualities of a real man, she also made some concrete suggestions:

apy areḥ śyenavac chidraṃ paśyes tvaṃ viparikraman

vinadan vā'tha vā tūṣṇīṃ vyomni vā'pariśaṅkitaḥ

Now, like a hawk, you look for the enemy's vulnerability, circling around, either crying out or silently, unafraid as if in the sky.

santi vai Sindhu-rājasya saṃtuṣṭā bahavo janāḥ

daurbalyād āsate mūḍhā vyasan'augha-pratīkṣiṇaḥ

sahāy'opacayaṃ kṛtvā vyavasāyya tatas tataḥ

anuduṣyeyur apare paśyantas tava pauruṣam

taiḥ kṛtvā saha saṃghātaṃ giri-durg'ālayāṃś cara

kāle vyasanam ākāṅkṣan n'aiv'āyam ajar'āmaraḥ

There are many people contented with the King of Sindhu, who remain out of weakness, stupefied, awaiting heaps of calamity. When you have added to your allies and negotiated, in due course the others should disintegrate, watching your endeavour. Making treaties with them, roam the inaccessible landscape of the hills, anticipating eventual calamity because he's really not free of aging and death.

Saṃjaya tried to tell Vidurā to be a sympathetic mother, even jaḍamūkavat - like an unintelligent or mute person. Vidurā scoffed:

codyaṃ māṃ codayasy etad bhṛśaṃ vai codayāmi te

It's fit for talk that you talk thus to me, so only harshly I'll talk to you.

Saṃjaya promised to follow Vidurā's instructions if she could figure out a solution to this problem:

akośasy'āsahāyasya kutaḥ svid vijayo mama

Without treasury, without allies, how is victory possible for me?

Vidurā advised Saṃjaya to apply bhaviṣyat'īty eva manaḥ - only a "will happen" attitude to profitable activities, attended by brāhmaṇas and masters, to ally himself with whoever was disgruntled to disunite the enemy, to show indomitable daring so that the enemy would negotiate a truce, giving him an opportunity to enrich himself. She also promised to reveal to Saṃjaya their large accumulated treasury that only she knew.

At the conclusion of Vidurā's speech, we are told only that Saṃjaya did exactly what she instructed, and that listening to this story leads a king to victory over the land and crushing of his enemies, while (scientifically impossible, of course) a pregnant woman listening to this story often will surely give birth to a male child, an all-round achiever hero. Was Saṃjaya victorious, or did he tragically die in battle? Our story must end with that ambiguity.

I am trying to restart activity in this forum by tagging members to read the stories above.