As days and months passed, beholding his five handsome sons growing up before him in that great forest on the charming mountain slope of Satashringa, Pandu began to feel the might of his arms somehow revive once again. He had engaged in penance, which had led to his body having become thin and lean during the period of birth of his sons. But playing with the sons of gods, demanded of Pandu, his physicality and strength.

And having once again felt his appetite return, Pandu felt like the Emperor he once was again, in body and mind; with his muscular lion-like frame, Pandu would sport, lift rocks, jump from heights, and wrestle with his five beautiful boys.

One day in the season of spring, that which maddens the minds of every creature, Pandu accompanied by his beautiful wife Madri, began to rove in the fragrant woods where every tree had put forth new blossoms.

Together, they beheld all around Palasas and Tilakas, Mangoes, Champakas, Asokas and Kesaras with swarms of maddened bees, sweetly humming about.

And there were flowers of blossoming Parijatas with the Kokilas pouring forth their melodies from under every twig, echoing with the sweet hums of the black bees.

They beheld also various other kinds of trees bent down with the weight of their flowers and fruits. And there were also many fine pools of water overgrown with hundreds of fragrant lotuses.

Beholding all of this, Pandu felt the soft influence of desire creeping into his mind.

Roving like a celestial with a light heart amidst such scenery, Pandu was alone with Madri who was dressed in semi-transparent attire, being at ease in the forest.

And beholding the youthful Madri thus attired, the former king of Hastinpaura’s desire flamed up like a forest-fire.

Being ill-able to suppress his desire thus kindled at the sight of his wife of eyes like lotus-petals, Pandu was soon completely overpowered by his senses.

Madri sensed her husband; she knew him well. She knew very well of the great risk that her beloved husband faced should he let his senses overpower him; namely the risk manifested by Sage Kindama upon Pandu’s slaying him in the guise of a deer, that the King would leave his body upon intercourse. Madri and Kunti had indeed discussed beforehand, the need to protect their husband from this.

Grasping Madri, against her will, she was trembling in fear, and she resisted him to the best of her might.

Consumed by desire, Pandu had forgotten everything about his misfortune, and unrestrained by the fear of the curse, and also being impelled by all-consuming fate, overpowered by passion, Pandu forcibly sought the embraces of his second wife Madri, acting if though, somehow, he wished to put an end to his own life.

His reason, thus beguiled by the great Destroyer himself, by intoxicating his senses, was itself lost on the spot, along with his life.

And the Kuru king Pandu, of virtuous soul, thus succumbed to the inevitable influence of Time, laying lifeless, in unity of intercourse with his wife Madri.

Clasping the numb lifeless corpse of her senseless lord, began to wail aloud.

And Kunti with her sons and the twins of Madri, hearing those cries of grief, came to the spot where their husband and father, Pandu lay, only in body, but no longer in soul.

Madri addressing Kunti in a piteous voice, spoke to her elder co-wife Kunti:

'Come hither alone, O Kunti, and let the children stay there.'

Hearing these words, Kunti, bidding the children stay back, ran with speed toward Madri, exclaiming:

'Woe to me!'

And beholding both Pandu and Madri lying prostrate on the ground she went into grief and affliction, saying:

'Of passions typically under complete control, this hero, O Madri, had all along been watched by me with care. How did he then forgetting the Sages curse, approach thee with such an enkindled desire?

O Madri, this foremost of men should have been protected by thee. Why didst thou tempt him into solitude?!

Being always melancholy at the thought of the Sages curse, how did our beloved Pandu ever come to be merry with thee in solitude?!

O Princess of Valhika, Madri, thou art truly more fortunate than I, thou art really to be envied, for thou hast seen the face of our Lord suffused one final time, with gladness and joy.'

Madri after pausing, replied thus:

'O my revered sister, Kunti, with tears in my eyes before him, I swear to you, I resisted our Lord, with all of my being. But he could not control himself, bent on it, as if he were making the Sages curse true by himself.'

Kunti then said to Madri:

'I am the elder of us; the chief religious merit must be mine. Therefore, O Madri, prevent me not from achieving that which must be achieved. I must follow our lord to the region of the dead.

Rise up, O Madri, and yield me his body. Rear thou these five children.'

To which Madri replied:

'I did not clasp our lord yet, and so it is I who have not allowed him to depart; therefore, I shall follow him. My nor his appetite hath not been appeased.

Thou art my older sister, O let me have thy sanction, for it was I who he approached.

O revered one, if I survive thee, it is certain I shall not be able to rear thy children as if they were mine. Will not sin touch me on that account?

But, thou, O Kunti, shall be able to bring my sons up as if they were thine, for thou art truly noble and responsible.

The king, in seeking me wishfully, hath gone to the region of spirits; therefore, my body should be burnt with his.”

Kunti not being convinced of Madri’s arguments, neither approving nor disapproving this position of her’s, but after all, accepting that it should be her who would raise their five children, did not object to Madri following the path that she so wished, with Pandu.

And so the daughter of the King of Madras, ascended the funeral pyre of her lord, that bull amongst all men; with their children playing at a distance, not knowing what had just come to pass.

Music credits
Ambient Nature Music | Nature by Alex-Productions (onsound.eu), CC BY 3.0.
Hiraeth and Permafrost by Scott Buckley (scottbuckley.com.au), CC BY 4.0.