King Duhshanta meets Shakuntala at Kanva's hermitage
King Duhshanta, hunting in the forest, finds the hermitage of Rishi Kanva deserted except for a single maiden. He is captivated by her beauty and questions how the famously celibate sage could have a daughter, demanding an explanation.
The king left his advisers at the edge of the woods and entered the hermitage alone. He found it silent, the sage Kanva absent. He called out, his voice echoing through the trees.
A maiden emerged. She was dressed in the simple attire of an ascetic, but her beauty was that of Shri, the goddess of fortune. Her eyes were dark and clear. She saw the king and immediately performed the rites of hospitality: she welcomed him, paid him homage, offered him a seat, brought water to wash his feet, and presented the traditional gift due to a guest. Only after honoring him properly did she smile and ask what she could do for him.
Duhshanta, having been received with such grace, spoke to the unblemished girl. “I have come to pay my respects to the illustrious Rishi Kanva. O fortunate one, where has the revered one gone?”
Shakuntala replied, “My revered father has gone out to collect fruit. Please wait a while. You will see him when he returns.”
The king looked at her. Kanva was not there, but this maiden was. She stood before him, dazzling in her beauty, austerities, and humility, her smile charming, her form endowed with youth. The sight robbed him of his composure.
He said to her, “O one with the beautiful hips, who are you? Who do you belong to? Why have you come to this forest? O beautiful one, you are blessed with every quality. From where have you come? You have taken my heart from the first glance. I wish to know everything about you. Please tell me.”
Shakuntala smiled at the king’s words in the quiet hermitage. “O Duhshanta,” she said in a sweet voice, “I am regarded as the daughter of the illustrious, righteous, great-souled ascetic Kanva, who is wise in the path of dharma.”
Duhshanta was astonished. “That illustrious one is worshipped by all the worlds. He is known to have never spilled his seed. The god of dharma himself may stray from the right path, but not this ascetic of rigid vows. O charming one, how can you be his daughter? Dispel this great doubt from my mind.”