Mark, O son of Pandu, the pallour that hath come over my
complexion which not even a life in the woods fraught as it was with
extreme misery, could bring about. Thou, O Pritha's son, knowest what
happiness, O Bhima, was formerly mine. Even I, who was such have now
sunk into servitude. Sorely distressed, I can find no rest. That the
mighty-armed and terrible bowman, Dhananjaya the son of Pritha, should
now live like a fire that hath been put out, maketh me think of all this
as attributable to Destiny. Surely, O son of Pritha, it is impossible
for men to understand the destinies of creatures (in this world). I,
therefore, think this downfall of yours as something that could not be
averted by forethought. Alas, she who hath you all, that resemble Indra
himself to attend to her comforts--even she, so chaste and exalted, hath
now to attend to the comforts of others, that are to her far inferior in
rank. Behold, O Pandava, my plight. It is what I do not deserve. You are
alive, yet behold this inversion of order that time hath brought. She
who had the whole Earth to the verge of the sea under her control, is
now under the control of Sudeshna and living in fear of her. She who had
dependants to walk both before and behind her, alas, now herself walketh
before and behind Sudeshna. This, O Kaunteya, is another grief of mine
that is intolerable. O, listen to it. She who had never, save for Kunti,
pounded unguents even for her own use, now, good betide thee, poundeth
sandal (for others).
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