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My doe-eyed Sakuntala presented herself at her husband’s court Big bellied, trusting, she stood in his throne room – and was rejected Can’t remember who she is, my son-in-law-to-be blandly stated to his court; not the faintest memory, he said It was the sa at her bark gar Dushyanta remember her body, she was the focus of a hundred censorious eyes, and helpless; she screaive birth to a lie My Sakuntala was declared mad

This is when I turned visible For I, Menaka, ae that there’s a wee loophole in every curse and law, income tax et al The loophole in mine was that only once in an eternity could I show up in a shadowy form I, water nymph, summoned the powers of dew, ive me shape Sehter and carry her away to another forest ashraue; she wept the coarse tears of mortals

My Sakuntala, she flowered there, she invented herbal dyes hich she painted the ashrarew to be a bard of the forests, of its silences and cries and its rustling lights; the first of her corew up surrounded by solitude and song No wonder he becaraphy