One day at the holy confluence of Prayaga, where the Ganga and Yamuna meet, the unparalleled beauty of a monsoon evening was being revealed. It was the rainy season, yet there were no clouds; or if there were any, they lingered in the western sky like golden waves. The sun had already set. Swollen with the rains, both the Ganga and the Yamuna were in full spate, intoxicated in the fullness of their youth, as if two sisters were embracing each other in playful affection. Like the fluttering hem of a restless garment, the waves, driven by the wind, lashed against the shore.

In a small boat were only two boatmen. With reckless courage, the boat braved the indomitable current of the Yamuna and, at last, reached the ghat of Prayaga. One remained in the boat, the other stepped ashore. The one who landed was in the bloom of youth, with a strong, well-built body, clad in the attire of a warrior. A turban adorned his head, armor covered his body, a bow and arrows were in his hand, a quiver slung across his back, and sandals on his feet. This heroic figure was exceedingly handsome. Above the ghat, there were several hermitages belonging to ascetics who had renounced the world in their quest for virtue. Among them, the young man entered a small hut.

Inside the hut, a Brahmin was seated on a mat of sacred grass, engaged in prayer. The Brahmin was a man of great height; his body was lean; a white beard adorned his broad, oval face; on his forehead and sparse hair at the crown, a faint trace of holy ash was visible. The Brahmin’s countenance was grave, and his glance severe; at first sight, one might not have thought him cruel or unworthy of reverence, yet he inspired awe. The moment he saw the visitor, the sternness seemed to melt away, and a gentle grace suffused the gravity of his face. The visitor addressed the Brahmin— He bowed in salutation and stood before him. The Brahmin, blessing him, said, “Child Hemchandra, I have been awaiting you for many days.”

Hemchandra replied humbly, “Pray do not take offense, my business in Delhi was not accomplished. Moreover, the Yavan was pursuing me; for this reason, I had to proceed with caution. Thus, I have been delayed.”

The Brahmin said, “I have heard all the tidings from Delhi. Had you slain Bakhtiyar Khilji with the elephant, it would have been well—the enemy of the gods would have perished by the hand of a beast. Why did you go to save his life?”

Hemchandra: To slay him in battle with my own hand. He is my father’s enemy, the usurper of my father’s kingdom. He is mine to kill.

Brahmin: Then when the elephant, enraged, attacked him, why did you slay the elephant instead of Bakhtiyar?

Hemchandra: Shall I kill my enemy like a thief, without battle? I shall defeat the conqueror of Magadha in war and reclaim