01.068
Library: Despite explaining the significance of wife and Son, Dushyanta rejects Shakuntala.
Vaiśampāyana spoke:
After making a promise, when King Duḥṣanta returned, Śakuntalā, known for her beauty, gave birth to a son endowed with immense energy.
In three full years, Janamejaya, the son of Dauḥṣanti, who was endowed with beauty and noble qualities, shone with the brilliance of a blazing fire.
Kaṇva, the most virtuous sage, then arranged for the wise Vardhamāna to undergo the birth and other sacred rites.
The young prince, with teeth as white as mountain peaks and a lion-like build, marked with wheel symbols on his hands, prosperous, with a great head and immense strength, grew quickly there, resembling a god.
The six-year-old boy went towards Kanva's hermitage, encountering tigers, lions, boars, elephants, and buffaloes along the way.
The strong one ties things to the trees all around the hermitage, climbs them, subdues, plays, and runs around energetically.
Then the inhabitants of Kanva's hermitage named him Sarvadamana, as he indeed tames everything.
The prince named Sarvadamana grew up to be endowed with great prowess, energy, and strength.
The sage, upon witnessing the prince's extraordinary actions, told Shakuntala that it was time for him to become the crown prince.
Understanding his strength, Kaṇva instructed his disciples to quickly send Śakuntalā, along with her son, from the hermitage to her husband today, as she is adorned with all auspicious signs.
The prolonged stay of women among relatives is not pleasing, as it destroys fame, character, and virtue; therefore, do not keep them for long.
After saying thus, all the mighty ones departed, leading Shakuntala and her son to Hastinapura.
Śakuntalā, having taken her lotus-eyed son who resembled a divine child, then came from the forest known to King Duṣyanta.
She approached the king and was admitted, known as she was, with her son who had the splendor of the young sun.
After performing the worship as per the rules, Shakuntala addressed him, saying: "Let this son be anointed as the crown prince by you, O king."
O king, this son, born in me by you, is like a god. Act according to the time, O best of men.
As previously agreed in the meeting, remember, O fortunate one, to proceed towards Kanva's hermitage.
Upon hearing her words, the king, though recalling, said, "I do not remember. To whom do you belong, wicked ascetic?"
I do not recall any relationship of duty, desire, or purpose with you. You may go or stay as you please, or do whatever you wish.
Having been spoken to in this manner, the beautiful-bodied and wise woman stood there, appearing ashamed and as if unconscious due to sorrow, like an immovable pillar.
With eyes red from anger and impatience, and lips quivering, she cast a burning sideways glance at the king.
Concealing her form and stirred by anger, she harnessed the energy she had accumulated through penance.
She paused for a moment as if in meditation, filled with sorrow and anger, and looking at her husband, she spoke in anger.
O great king, even though you know, why do you speak thus? I do not know, being detached, like any other ordinary person.
Here, your heart knows both truth and falsehood. Indeed, you are a noble witness; do not underestimate yourself.
Who acts contrary to his true nature, what sin is not committed by him, the thief who steals his own self?
You believe yourself to be unique, but you do not understand the desires of the ancient sage. You act sinfully in the presence of one who knows the nature of sin.
He believes that after committing a sin, no one is aware of him. However, the gods and the inner self are indeed aware of him.
The sun, moon, wind, and fire; the sky, earth, waters, heart, and Yama; day and night, both twilights; and Dharma knows the conduct of man.
Yama, the son of Vivasvat, releases the sins of those whose inner witness, the knower of the field situated in the heart, is pleased.
Yama is displeased with the wicked man whose evil actions lead him to hell.
Disregarding oneself, one acts contrary to their nature. The gods do not favor the prosperity of someone whose own self is not even a cause for their actions.
"Having arrived personally, do not disregard me, your devoted wife. You do not offer worship to me, who is worthy of offerings, even though I am present here as your wife."
Why do you treat me as if I am ordinary in the assembly? Indeed, I am not shouting this into the void. Can you not hear me?
If you do not fulfill my request, Duḥṣanta, your head will shatter into a hundred pieces today.
The ancient poets understood that the concept of wifehood is derived from the husband entering the wife, from whom he is reborn.
When a man's offspring is born, it is believed that the progeny liberates the ancestors and grandfathers who have passed away.
A son is called 'putra' because he delivers his father from the hell named Punnāmnaḥ, as declared by Brahmā himself.
A true wife is one who is skilled in managing the household, is capable of bearing children, is devoted to her husband, and remains chaste.
A wife is considered half of a man's existence; she is his best friend. She is the foundation of the three aims of life and remains a companion even in death.
Men with wives, who are active and householders, rejoice and are endowed with wealth.
Friends are sweet-spoken in solitude; fathers act as mothers in the religious duties of the distressed.
Even in the wilderness, a traveler finds rest. A man with a wife is trustworthy; hence, a wife is the ultimate refuge.
A devoted wife always follows her husband, even in difficult times, whether he is wandering or dead, like a shadow.
First, the wife stands waiting for her husband after his death. Previously, the virtuous woman follows her deceased husband.
For this reason, O king, marriage is desired because when a husband obtains a wife, it is beneficial both in this world and in the afterlife.
The wise say that a son is born from oneself. Therefore, a man should regard his wife as a mother and his son as a mother.
A son born to a wife is like seeing one's own reflection in a mirror. The parent rejoices as if they have attained heaven, similar to the joy of a virtuous person reaching paradise.
Clever men, tormented by mental anguish and diseases, find solace in their wives just as those suffering from heat find relief in water.
Even if one is very eager, a wise person should not speak unpleasantly about the Ramas, as pleasure, affection, and duty are dependent on them.
The birthplace of the self is sacred and eternally associated with Rama. Even the sages have no power to create beings without Rama.
When the son, after wandering and being covered in the dust of the earth, embraces his father's limbs, what could be more fulfilling than that?
Why do you disregard this son whom you yourself have obtained with desire, looking upon him with your eyes?
Ants carry their own eggs without breaking them. How can you, who are knowledgeable in dharma, not support your own son?
The happiness derived from the touch of a child being embraced is unparalleled, not found in the touch of clothes, pleasing things, or waters.
Among bipeds, the Brahmin is the most distinguished; among quadrupeds, the cow holds the highest place. The teacher is the foremost among the venerable, and the son is the most cherished among those who can be touched.
Let this handsome son embrace and touch you; there is no touch in the world more delightful than that of a son.
O King, in three full years, I have borne this prince, who will be the destroyer of your grief, O subduer of enemies.
The voice in the sky once addressed me during the birth, saying, 'O descendant of Puru, performer of the hundred horse sacrifices.'
Indeed, people, out of affection, place a name-mark and go to another village, where they greet their sons by smelling their heads.
The twice-born also recite this mantra in the Vedas. It is known to you during the birth ceremony of sons.
You are born from every limb and from the heart. Indeed, you are called son; may he live for a hundred years.
Indeed, my nourishment and imperishable progeny depend on you. Therefore, my child, may you live very happily for a hundred years.
From your limbs, another man is born from the man. Like in the clear lake, see my second self, my son.
Just as the sacrificial fire is taken from the household fire, you too are born from it, manifesting in two forms.
O king, while you were engaged in the hunt drawn by the deer, I, the princess, was found in my father's hermitage.
Urvaśī, Pūrvacitti, Sahajanī, Menakā, Viśvācī, and Ghṛtācī are considered the six foremost Apsarases.
Among them, Menaka, the most distinguished apsara born from Brahma, descended from heaven to earth and bore a child with Vishwamitra.
Menaka, the celestial nymph, gave birth to me on the slopes of the Himalayas and then abandoned me, scattering away like an unfaithful woman with someone else's child.
What unfortunate deed did I commit in a past life that has led to my abandonment by relatives in my childhood and now by you?
I am willingly abandoned by you and will go to the hermitage. However, you should not abandon this child, your own son, by yourself.
Duḥṣanta spoke.
I do not acknowledge a son born from you, O Shakuntala. Women are known to speak untruths; who will trust your words?
Menaka, your merciless mother and captivator, was thrown away on the back of Himavat as if she were discarded flowers.
He, your father, who is of warrior origin and merciless, is Viśvāmitra, who is greedy and devoted to desires in his pursuit of becoming a Brahmin.
Menaka, the foremost among the Apsaras, and your father, one of the great sages. Why would you, their child, speak as if you were a wanton woman?
You shamelessly speak this unbelievable statement, especially in my presence, wicked sage, leave at once.
Where is the great sage, always fierce, with the apsara, and where is Menaka? And where are you, thus miserable, wearing ascetic attire?
Atikaya, your son, though young, is strong. How has he grown so quickly, like a shala tree?
You seem to me to be of degraded origin, appearing as an unchaste woman; indeed, you are born by chance from the lust of Menaka.
All this seems indirect to me, O sage, as you speak. I do not recognize you. You may go as you wish.
