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Library:King Samvarana sees Tapati
Arjuna said.
I wish to know the determination of the meaning of Tāpatya regarding the statement you have made to me here.
This is Tapatī by name, the daughter of Tapati, for whose sake we are here. O sons of Kunti, indeed, O noble one, I wish to know the truth.
Vaiśampāyana said.
Thus addressed, the Gandharva narrated to Kunti's son Dhananjaya the story renowned in the three worlds.
The Gandharva said.
Indeed, O Pārtha, best of the upholders of dharma, I shall narrate to you this delightful and righteous story in its entirety and as it should be told.
I am the one who told you those words regarding the son; now I will narrate that to you, so listen to me with full attention.
He who pervades heaven by his brilliant seat—his daughter, named Tapatī, was born, unlike any other.
O son of Kunti, Tapatī, the daughter of Savitṛ and Vivasvat, O mighty one, is renowned in the three worlds for her austerity.
She was not a goddess, nor a demoness, nor a female yakṣa, nor a female rākṣasa; she was not an apsaras, nor a female gandharva—there was no one of such a form.
She is a radiant woman, with well-proportioned and flawless limbs, large white eyes, of good conduct, virtuous, and well-dressed.
O Bhārata, Savitā considered that there was no one in the three worlds equal to her in form, character, family, and learning, as a husband.
Seeing his daughter, now of marriageable age and worthy to be given, he found no peace and kept pondering over her marriage.
O son of Kunti, King Saṁvaraṇa, the powerful leader of the Kurus and son of Ṛkṣa named Artha, always worshipped the Sun.
The king always offered water, garlands, and gifts, and also engaged in various observances, fastings, and austerities.
The devoted descendant of Paurava, who was eager to serve, humble, and pure, worshipped the rising Aṃśumant.
Then the Sun thought that Saṃvaraṇa, who was grateful and knew dharma, though unmatched in form on earth, was a worthy husband for Tapati.
Then he wished to give her, the maiden, to Saṃvaraṇa, O Kauravya, to that best of kings, indeed, for his renowned and noble lineage.
Just as the one with shining rays illuminates the sky with brilliance, so did King Saṃvaraṇa become radiant on earth.
O Pārtha, just as the knowers of Brahman worship the rising Sun, so too do the descendants of Brāhmaṇas worship Saṃvaraṇa, along with the people.
He, possessing a mind as gentle as the Moon in loveliness and as brilliant as the Sun, became a prosperous king, cherished by friends and even respected by enemies.
O Kaurava, seeing such qualities and conduct in the king, the Sun himself resolved in his mind to give Tapatī to him.
Once, O son of Pritha, the prosperous and greatly renowned king wandered for hunting in the mountain forest.
O Kaunteya, while he was wandering in pursuit of animals, the king's unrivaled horse, overcome by hunger, thirst, and fatigue, died on the mountain.
Pārtha, whose horses had died, was walking on foot on the mountain when the king saw a maiden with large eyes, unique in the world.
He, the destroyer of enemies and tiger among kings, having approached the maiden, stood gazing at her with unwavering eyes.
The king indeed considered her, by her form, as if she were the very embodiment of splendor. Again, he reflected, as if she were radiance fallen from the sun.
But on the mountain plateau where she stood with her cool eyes, that place, with its trees, shrubs, and creepers, appeared as if it had become golden.
Having seen her, the king disregarded her, thinking that he had obtained the ultimate object of sight, the form of all living beings.
From the time of his birth, whatever the king had seen, he thought that nothing was comparable to her beauty in any way.
At that time, with his mind and eyes bound by her fetters made of guṇas, he did not move from that place, nor did he perceive anything.
Indeed, this form of the large-eyed woman, having churned the world of gods, asuras, and humans, has been manifested and made by the Creator.
Thus, King Saṃvaraṇa then thought that, in form, wealth, and prosperity, there was no maiden in the world equal to her.
The king, who was of noble lineage, upon seeing that auspicious woman, immediately fell into deep thought, his mind afflicted by the arrow of desire.
Burning with the intense fire of love, the king, though she was unbold, being bold himself, spoke to the illustrious woman.
Who are you? Whose daughter are you, O lady with thighs like plantain stems? For what reason do you stand here? How is it that you wander alone in this lonely forest, O pure-smiling one?
You, truly possessing flawless limbs and adorned with every ornament, are like the most desired ornament among all ornaments for them.
I do not think she is a goddess, demoness, yakṣī, rākṣasī, serpent-woman, gandharvī, or a human woman.
O intoxicated-eyed one, among all the excellent women I have seen or heard of, I do not think any is equal to you.
Thus the king spoke to her, but at that time she did not reply anything to the one afflicted by desire in the lonely forest.
Then, as the king was being mourned, the wide-eyed woman vanished there itself like lightning among the clouds.
The king, seeking her, wandered about the forest at that time, like one mad, searching for the lotus-eyed lady.
Unable to see her, he, the best of the Kauravas, lamented much there and stood motionless for a moment.
