Those princes who were fools indignantly strained at the bow, but retired in confusion when it refused to stir, as though it grew heavier and heavier by absorbing the force of each successive warrior.

Then ten thousand princes proceeded all at once to lift it, but still it baffled their efforts. Shiva’s bow stirred no more than the heart of a virtuous lady at the allurements of a gallant.

All the princes appeared as ridiculous as a recluse without dispassion. Helplessly forfeiting their renown and glory and mighty valour to the bow, they retired.

Confused and disheartened, the princes returned, each to his own company, and took their seats. Seeing the kings thus dismayed, king Janaka was distressed and spoke words as if in anger:

‘Hearing the vow I made, many a king has come from diverse parts of the globe; gods and demons in human form and many other stalwart heroes, staunch in fight, have assembled.

A charming maiden, a grand triumph and splendid renown are the prize; but Brahma, it seems, has not yet created the hero who may break the bow and win it.

Tell me who would not covet so great a prize? Yet none could string Shankara’s bow. Let alone stringing it or breaking it, there was not one of you, brothers, who could even move it an inch from the ground!