I continued to weep. Being a water nymph I can weep endlessly, and I float on water, gathering it towards me. My tears piled beneath me, couching me in their sad rocking. I had twelve feet of tear-bed under me when the Chief of Security — an odious giant I had once spurned — dropped by to check me out. He peered down to hear me murmur, “ Sakuntala, how I wish, I wish, wish…” Twisting his moustache he roared with pleasure, “I’ll report you! “
“ What! “ Lord Indra’s voice boomed through the heavenly halls,“ You say she still weeps for Vish–wamitra!” Silence flooded Indralok. Then His voice boomed in laughter. “Impossible! How can she desire anyone after being with Me! “
The only person I wished to be with was my infant daughter, back on earth. But I knew if I asked for the boon of mortality Lord Indra never would have granted it. My desire had to be camouflaged and strike Him as His Own Brilliant Idea. So I continued weeping. It was a risky plan I devised, but what option did I have in those primitive patriarchal times?
Years passed. Emissaries came and went; my tear-bed was a tower almost two hundred feet high when the Chief of Security paid another visit. He was a dot way below. He shouted up to me, ‘How dare you be so high-and mighty, nymph?” I didn’t bother to reply. He stomped out.