THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 by Ramesh Menon

those were still times when rishis like Vyasa and Durvasa lived in the sacred land of Bharata.
    One day, the Muni Durvasa appeared in Kuntibhoja’s city. Fate had brought him here, for he had a gift to bestow on the Vrishnis. There was a dramatic design unfolding in time, for which the holy one was chosen to be a catalyst.
    Durvasa was often described as an amsa of Lord Siva and his temper was legendary. So when that rishi came to Kuntibhoja’s court, he was received not only with affection but trepidation as well: lest he was offended by some trifle and cursed the king and his kingdom. Of course, Durvasa was not nearly as temperamental as he was reputed to be. Yet, it was true that among the great sages this one was more easily angered than most: with him, it did well to err on the side of caution. And innocent as all mortals are of fate, Kuntibhoja entrusted the task of looking after his guest to his daughter Kunti.
    Young Kunti, who was barely fourteen, fulfilled her difficult task so graciously that even Durvasa, a hard man to please, was delighted with her. The day before he left he sent for the young princess. It was late evening. Birds were roosting in their armfuls in the darkening trees outside. Durvasa sensed fate so near him, he felt he could reach out and touch her.
    Kunti came in and he made her sit beside him. He laid his hand on her head and said fondly, “Dear Kunti, what a special child you are. You have looked after me so well I have decided to give you a gift that none of your father’s friends can match.
    I am going to teach you a mantra. It is old and powerful and once you know it I will tell you what it is for.”
    He made the girl kneel before him. As she repeated the secret words after him, Durvasa felt the tide of destiny surge in his body; on its wave-crests rode resplendent kshatriyas of a strange future. For the life of him, the muni could not understand why he had decided to teach this princess a mantra that was certainly not meant for a child like her. But then, he understood little of why, in the first place, he had come to Kuntibhoja’s city.
    “Have you learnt it?”
    Kunti nodded. She rose, sat beside him again and asked, “What is it for?”
    For a moment, Durvasa did not reply. He was uncertain whether he should, after all, tell her what the incantation really was. Then he said, “It is a mantra for the Devas. Think of any Deva as you say it aloud and he will appear before you.”
    She gave a delighted laugh. Durvasa spoke so gravely that a part of her believed him completely. But another part, which was still a child, just couldn’t conceive that she could summon a God. Durvasa smiled at the princess, but he wondered what he had set afoot.
    The next day, blessing Kuntibhoja and his wispy, adorable daughter, that profound sage went on his way.

SIXTEEN THE BLAZING DEVA  
    A month passed and Kunti had almost forgotten about Durvasa and his mantra. Her youth was flowering, her body filling out into womanhood. Warm new yearnings awoke in her. One day, fate took a dramatic hand in her young life.
    It was spring and dawn. Kunti had just woken up. The morning sun crept over the horizon and poured in through her window in a cascade of crimson and gold. She rose and sat on the edge of her bed, so she was drenched in that first light. Under her window, the river lapped at the palace walls, she also touched awake by the livid star. Kunti thought how wonderful it must be to be a naked river, embraced each dawn by a replenished sun. Every night must be like a death and each morning like a new birth: ecstatic! The birds in the trees sang as they have done every sunrise since there was a world.
    Kunti felt her youth inflamed by the sheer magic of the hour. Like the river, she felt intimately caressed by the sun. She quivered with sensations she was certain were quite improper and all the more delicious for being so. She felt as if burning Surya Deva held her in incandescent arms.
    Kunti hardly