It was a time long, long ago. In the kingdom of Pundravardhana, there ruled a mighty and valiant king named Shardul Vikram. The name “Shardul” meant tiger—and just like a tiger, the king was known for his fierce spirit and strength. The title stuck to him like his shadow.
Everything in King Vikram’s life seemed perfect—except for one deep sorrow that haunted his heart. His beloved queen, Subhadra, had passed away while giving birth to their son. Struck by grief, the king left his palace and spent his days wandering the dense forests, hunting and seeking comfort in the wild.
One day, during one of his hunts deep in the jungle, something unexpected happened. The king came face-to-face with two enormous tigers—a male and a female. He had gone out for a light hunt that day and had not even brought his bow and arrows with him. His weapons were with his hunting party, who were now far behind him. The king had ventured too deep into the forest alone, enchanted by its beauty. All he had with him was a small axe and a sword.
It was not a good time to meet two tigers.
The tigers attacked. With no choice, the king raised his axe and sword and fought with all his might. It was a brutal battle, but in the end, the king emerged victorious. Still, he was badly wounded. Even after returning to the palace and receiving proper care, the injuries left behind terrible scars—deep, red, angry marks across his face and body.
King Vikram had once been extraordinarily handsome. He had taken pride in his appearance. But now, when he looked into a mirror, he couldn’t recognize himself. The face staring back at him felt like a stranger’s. Disgusted and heartbroken, he covered his face and slowly withdrew from his people. Over time, the sadness turned into anger. He became irritable and sharp-tempered. His subjects feared him, and no one dared come near his wrath.
Just when things seemed to have fallen apart, a mysterious kapalik—a wandering ascetic—arrived in Pundravardhana. His body was smeared with ashes, his tangled hair was matted into thick dreadlocks, and his fierce, piercing eyes seemed like they could burn anyone who met his gaze.
The kapalik made a bold announcement: “I can remove the king’s scars. I can make him whole again. There won’t be a single trace of the tiger’s wounds.”
Hope sparked in the hearts of the courtiers. If their king could return to his former self, wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Following the kapalik’s instructions, the palace workers dug a special well in the ground. For three days and three nights, the kapalik meditated and performed powerful rituals, infusing the water with supernatural energy. When he was done, the king bathed in the well’s magical waters. As per the kapalik’s orders, his body was then treated with honey, nagarjuna bark, and the juices of rare medicinal herbs.
The kapalik’s promise was true. Whether it was magic or the power of nature, within fifteen days, the king’s skin healed completely. The scars vanished. His radiant, handsome face returned, along with his warm, captivating smile. His people rejoiced. It was as though life had come back to the kingdom.
Despite his incredible help, the kapalik asked for nothing in return. “All I wish for, my king, is permission to build a small hut on the western side of the cremation ground by the river.”
The kapalik was a man of great spiritual power. He was untouched by worldly life. People whispered that on dark new moon nights, he would walk straight into the flames of funeral pyres and later be seen floating toward the sky. By dawn, some claimed to have found him lying peacefully in the dying embers. The forest tigers, it was said, revered him. They often stood guard outside his small house in the cremation grounds.
King Vikram was so grateful to the kapalik that he visited him regularly, discussing matters of the kingdom and sometimes seeking his counsel.
Life in Pundravardhana moved on.
Meanwhile, the king’s young, motherless son, Prince Pratap, was growing up in the care of the palace maids. Whispers began to spread among the courtiers: “Perhaps it’s time the king married again.” The words reached King Vikram’s ears, but he did not give them much thought. He remained focused on ruling his kingdom.
To the south of Pundravardhana was a smaller kingdom called Shardulpur. Its ruler, King Chandrabahadur, had been murdered by his own ministers not long ago. Now, the throne was held by his stunningly beautiful queen, Chandramallika. As delicate and enchanting as a flower, she was also firm and wise in governance.
The real danger came from Shardulpur’s prime minister. His greedy eyes were always fixed on the queen. He had orchestrated the king’s murder, but though everyone knew this, no one dared to accuse him. Chandramallika lived in constant fear. Many neighboring kings were eyeing her and her vulnerable kingdom—one of them being King Shashank Vikram of Dhanurdhesh. But none of these kings were just or kind. None of them ruled with compassion. Chandramallika could not accept any of them. She feared that someone might abduct her at any moment.
Desperate, she secretly summoned King Vikram to meet her on a boat anchored in the middle of the river.
On that quiet boat, Chandramallika poured out her heart. She told him everything—the prime minister’s betrayal, the neighboring kings’ threats, her fear, her helplessness. King Vikram listened carefully. He was captivated—not just by her beauty, but by her grace, her strength, her kindness. The more they talked, the more drawn he was to her.
That evening, the queen invited him to stay for dinner. She presented wonderful gifts for his son, Prince Pratap. Before leaving, King Vikram stationed his most trusted general to guard the queen. Then he returned to his kingdom.
But he could not forget her. The memory of Chandramallika, her gentle, radiant face, stayed with him every moment. “If I ever marry again,” the king thought, “it will only be Chandramallika—if she agrees. I will not force her. The heart cannot be conquered by force.”
A few weeks later, King Vikram met her again on the same river boat and invited her to come live in his palace.
Chandramallika, too, felt the same. She had never met a king so kind, so respectful. When she arrived at the royal palace, it felt like home. She quickly became like a real mother to Prince Pratap, showering him with affection and helping him heal his childhood grief.
With the guidance of the king’s trusted friend, the kapalik, preparations for the wedding of Shardul Vikram and Chandramallika began. Their marriage was soon celebrated with great joy.
Not long after, King Vikram led his army to conquer Dhanurdhesh and defeated King Shashank Vikram. There were no more enemies left to trouble Chandramallika. Peace returned to both kingdoms.
And so, Shardul Vikram, Chandramallika, and young Prince Pratap lived on—together, in happiness and harmony.