When Pandu returned victorious from his conquests, O Bharata, he offered the splendid treasures he had won to Satyavati, Bhishma, and his radiant mother, Kausalya. Kausalya, overjoyed, embraced her son of boundless energy, just as Shachi would embrace Indra upon his triumph, for Pandu was truly a bull among men. With the wealth and fame gained from Pandu’s heroic deeds and generous gifts, his brother Dhritarashtra was able to perform hundreds of grand horse sacrifices. Yet, Pandu himself, joined by his wives Kunti and Madri, chose to leave behind palace comforts and the luxury of soft beds. He became a dweller of the forest, ever tireless and constantly devoted to the hunt. He wandered the southern slopes of the beautiful Himalayas, living on mountain ridges and within the great sal forests. There, Pandu shone resplendent, accompanied by Kunti and Madri, like the glorious Indra amidst two she-elephants. The forest-dwellers, seeing the king armed with sword, bow, and arrows, clad in shining armor and skilled in supreme weaponry, marveled at his presence and thought, “This must be a god.” Even in the wilderness, Pandu did not lack for comfort. At Dhritarashtra’s command, diligent men brought him everything he desired, ensuring his pleasures even at the very edge of the forest. One day, Pandu entered a vast forest teeming with wild beasts and predators. There he saw the leader of a herd of deer, engaged in mating. Without hesitation, Pandu struck both the stag and the doe with five swift, sharp arrows tipped with golden feathers. But, O King, the pair of deer were no ordinary animals. The stag was a powerful ascetic, a sage’s son rich in austerity, who, along with his wife, had taken the form of deer. Joined with the doe, the sage cried out in human speech. In that moment, as he fell to the ground in agony, he lamented bitterly. He spoke, “Even those whose minds know better, when overcome by desire and anger, refrain from cruel deeds, though they may take pleasure in sin. Law does not overpower wisdom, but sometimes law does overpower wisdom; the wise discern the misfortunes that arise when law is reversed. O Bharata, how has your mind wavered? You, born of a noble family devoted to righteousness, now overcome by desire and greed?” The sage continued, “The way of killing enemies is said to be the same as the way of killing animals; O king, do not, out of delusion, reproach me as if I were a mere beast. The killing of animals is accepted when done openly and without deceit; that same law applies to kings—so why do you reproach me? Even Agastya, the great sage, hunted animals during his sacrifices, sprinkling them with sacred water as prescribed for the gods. By this established law, why do you reproach us? By Agastya’s ritual, your act of killing us is sanctioned.” “Men do not release arrows at enemies without cause; their vulnerability, especially at the right time, is praised for killing. Whether inattentive or attentive, whether exposed, they are struck down with force by various sharp means—so why, O king, do you reproach me?” “But, O king of men, I do not blame you for killing animals for your own sake; yet you should have waited for the mating to be complete—here you have acted with cruelty. At a time when the welfare of all beings is sought, and when all beings desire it, what wise person would kill an animal engaged in mating in the forest?” “O king, in this hunt, while I was joyfully united with my mate, seeking the fruit of human purpose, you have rendered it fruitless. O great king, born in the line of the blameless Pauravas, O Kaurava, this act of yours is not fitting. This is a cruel deed, greatly condemned by all people, unworthy of heaven, infamous, and unrighteous, O Bharata. You, who know the distinctions of enjoyment with women, and understand the truths of dharma, wealth, and desire from the scriptures, are not worthy, O one like the gods, to commit such an unheavenly act. Those who commit cruelty and sinful acts, O best of kings, should be restrained by you, for they are devoid of the three aims of life.” “O best of men, what have I done, that you kill me here though I am innocent—a sage living on roots and fruits, wearing the form of a deer, O king? Dwelling always in the forest, devoted to peace, I have been harmed by you; therefore, though innocent, I shall harm you as well. For one who, overcome by desire and delusion, commits cruelty to another, the end of life will come to him while engaged in mating.” “I am the sage named Kindama, purified by austerity; feeling shame among humans, I practiced intercourse in the form of a deer. Having become a deer, I wandered with others in the dense forest; but this is not the sin of killing a Brahmin for you, since you did not know. Yet, by killing me, who had taken the form of a deer and was overcome by desire, you, O fool, will receive a fruit just like this. Having attained union with your beloved, and being deluded by desire, you too will come to this same state and go to the realm of the departed. At the end of your life, when you depart with your beloved, you will reach the city of the lord of the dead, which is difficult for all beings to cross; yet, O best of the wise, she will follow you there out of devotion. As you brought me, who was enjoying happiness, into suffering, so too, when you attain happiness, suffering will come upon you.” Having spoken thus, overwhelmed by great sorrow, the sage Kindama departed from life. Pandu, stricken with unbearable grief, collapsed in that very moment. Then, as if mourning the loss of a dear kinsman, the king, together with his wife, approached the lifeless Pandu, their hearts full of sorrow and lamentation, stricken by the weight of their distress.