As King Duṣyanta set forth from his palace, a great clattering arose from those who stood upon the high towers, their royal splendor shining for all to see. The women of the palace gazed upon him as he passed—this valiant king, famed for his glory, equal to mighty Indra, the destroyer of foes and restrainer of hostile elephants. As they watched, the women whispered among themselves, marveling, “He is like the wielder of the thunderbolt, a tiger among men, as powerful as Vasu in battle. None who encounter the strength of his arms remain his enemy.” With affection and admiration, they praised him, showering flowers upon his head, while the foremost Brahmins extolled him from every side. Filled with supreme joy and intent on the hunt, Duṣyanta mounted a rutting elephant, his regal bearing likened to the lord of the gods. As he departed, people from every class—Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, and Shudras—followed, offering their blessings and wishing him victory. Both townsfolk and country people accompanied him for a great distance, until, with the king's permission, they reluctantly turned back. Mounted now in a chariot swift as Garuda, Duṣyanta’s progress filled the earth and even the heavens with resounding noise. As he journeyed, the wise king beheld a forest akin to the celestial Nandana grove, filled with bilva, arka, and khadira trees, and crowded with kapittha and dhava. The land was rugged, covered with mountain slopes and sunlight, waterless and devoid of people, stretching for many yojanas. Into this wild, untamed forest, teeming with fierce deer, lions, and other beasts, Duṣyanta entered with his followers, troops, and vehicles. There, the king roamed, bringing down many animals—his arrows felling tigers that strayed too close, his sword dispatching those who approached, and his spear expertly bringing down deer. Skilled in the art of the mace, he moved tirelessly, wielding javelins, swords, maces, and clubs, striking down wild creatures and birds, accompanied by warriors who delighted in the hunt. The turmoil of the hunt sent the lords of beasts fleeing; herds scattered in panic, their leaders slain. The deer, distressed, cried out as they searched for water in dried-up rivers, their bodies emaciated from thirst. Weary and exhausted, many collapsed on the ground, overcome by hunger and fatigue. Some were devoured by fierce, tiger-like men, while others, having kindled fire by friction, managed to survive by roasting and eating the flesh of their quarry. Amidst this chaos, powerful elephants, wounded by weapons, fled in terror, their trunks drawn in, leaving trails of dung, urine, and blood. Some wild elephants, maddened by pain and fear, turned upon the hunters, killing many men. The forest, now a battlefield, echoed with the thunder of arrows, and the king stood as the undisputed lord, surrounded by the fallen lords of beasts. Having slain thousands of animals, Duṣyanta, with his army and vehicles, came upon another forest, dense as a raincloud and frequented by Siddhas and Caranas. Two yojanas from the city, he pressed on, still pursuing wild game, himself worn from the relentless chase. Urging his horses onward, the king entered yet another forest, now alone, his great strength tested by hunger, thirst, and fatigue. At last, he reached the end of the wilderness and emerged into a vast, empty expanse. Moving beyond this, Duṣyanta discovered a place adorned with excellent hermitages, delightful to the mind and pleasing to the eye. Cool breezes refreshed him as he entered a great forest thick with blossoming trees and lush grassy meadows. The air resounded with the sweet calls of birds and the melodious cries of cuckoos, while hosts of crickets added their own music. The trees, with their spreading branches and pleasant shade, were alive with swarms of bees and radiant with supreme beauty. Not a single tree was without flowers or fruit; none was covered with bees alone. Birdsong and abundant blossoms filled the forest, where trees bloomed in every season, offering cool, pleasant shade. With his mighty arms, Duṣyanta entered this wondrous forest, where the wind played among flowering branches. The trees showered him with a gentle rain of blossoms, their crowns touching the sky and echoing with the sweet voices of birds. Clothed in varied and beautiful flowers, their tender shoots bent under the weight of blossoms, the trees attracted flocks of birds, while bees sang sweetly, drawn by the honey. Everywhere Duṣyanta looked, he saw heaps of flowers and bowers of creepers that delighted the heart. The forest shone with intertwined branches, their blossoms waving like the banners of great Indra, filling the king with joy and wonder at the supreme beauty of the world.