Kumarsambhav

by Kālidāsa, Viraj (Translator)

संस्कृत के सर्वश्रेष्ठ कवि कालिदास ने ‘कुमारसंभव’ महाकाव्य में श्रृंगार-सौन्दर्य का जैसा वर्णन किया है वैसा अन्यत्र दुर्लभ है। ‘उपमा कालिदासस्य’ तो प्रसिद्ध ही है कि आज तक कोई कवि कालिदास जैसी उपमा नहीं दे सका। ‘कुमारसंभव’ में कालिदास ने शिव-पार्वती के अंतरंग क्षणों का ऐसा जीवन्त सौन्दर्य-चित्रण किया जो संस्कृत साहित्य में अनुपम है।

‘कुमारसंभव’ संस्कृत साहित्य की गौरवपूर्ण कृतियों में एक उल्लेखनीय महाकाव्य है जिसको पढ़ते समय पाठक उसी में रम जाता है।

Genres: Poetry, India, Classics, Literature, Fiction, Philosophy, Hinduism

120 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 400

About the author

Poetry of Indian dramatist and lyric poet Kalidasa (circa 375-circa 415) represents the height of the kavya style, which his epic poem Raghuvamsha and his lyric poem Meghaduta exemplify.

Poeple widely regard Kālidāsa (Devanāgarī: कालिदास "servant of Kali") as the greatest renowned writer in the classical Sanskrit language.

We know nothing with certainty about the life of Kālidāsa apart from works but speculate about the place where he lived or the dates of his birth and death. According to legend, his known beauty brought him to the attention of Vidyottama, princess, who married him.
Kālidāsa, however, legendarily lacked much education, and his ignorance and coarseness shamed the princess. A devoted worshipper of Kali (by other accounts of Saraswati), Kālidāsa is said to have called upon his goddess for help when he was going to commit suicide in a well after he was humiliated by his wife, and was rewarded with a sudden and extraordinary gift of wit. He is then said to have become the most brilliant of the "nine gems" at the court of the king Vikramaditya of Ujjain. Legend also has it that he was murdered by a courtesan in Sri Lanka during the reign of Kumaradasa.

Reviews

[Srivalli (Semi-Hiatus) · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Stars

One Liner: The review is for the translation

My Thoughts

Kālidāsa is among the most famous poets and dramatists from ancient India. Since his works are in Sanskrit, translations are life-savers. Kumarasambhavam is an epic poem detailing the rebirth of Sati as Parvati, Shiva’s tapas, the burning of Manmada, Parvati’s tapas, and the wedding and union of Shiv-Shakti to reestablish the cosmic order. This union would give birth to Karttikeya or Skanda, who would eliminate Taraka, the asura who, with Brahma’s boon, had been torturing humans and devas alike.

My edition has multiple notes in the beginning, where the translator, Hank Heifetz, discusses the poem, the poet, the Sanskrit language, and his translation. If we ignore his references to the debunked AIT/ AMT and a few other stereotypes, we can see that he is indeed passionate about what he does. Heifetz is clear that English translations of Sanskrit works should not use archaic English or sound horrible. He uses more contemporary words and IAST spellings for Sanskrit terms. Not that this works that well, but it is better than some of the examples he cites.

While this can be a bit awkward (calling Sati’s death suicide doesn’t do justice to the act, and ‘blue-necked god’ sounds rather odd), the overall flow is decent. Some verses have a lovely lyrical pattern that feels musical. The others, however, fall flat because the language is just not heavy or complex enough for nuance. English translations of Sanskrit works sound odd because English does not have proper equivalents for Sanskrit words. Even if you can find the nearest one, it may not suit lyrically or aesthetically.

However, I appreciate the translator’s honesty about this. The actual contents are probably 60-65% of the book. After a detailed set of introductions, we have almost 30% of notes. I admit I liked these more since the translator explained his choices and confessed when he wasn’t able to do justice to the original. That deserves to be acknowledged.

To summarize, the translation of Kumarasambhavam is a decent read and went better than I hoped. One day, I wish to read the poem in Sanskrit. In the meantime, if I can take time to read the Telugu version as well, I might have some interesting insights about word choices and writing styles.

[Chaitra · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first Hindi read and I loved it so much. The translator has beautifully translated simplifying the text to the readers as well as staying true to the original text.
Beautiful!

[Sookie · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

Kumarasambhavam is arguably Kalidasa's finest works to survive. The mahakavya narrates the origins of Kumara/Subramanya/Murugan starting with birth of Uma/Parvati, his mother and Uma's courtship with Shiva, his father, that leads to their nuptials. As is the tradition in Indian mythology, there is no great event without a divine hand progressing the fate.

The Backstory:

Taraka, an asura (a malevolent being), has defeated demi Gods because of a boon granted to him - he could be only defeated by son of Shiva (who is doing tapas), and also has to be a yogi. Some texts also say that the son should be exactly seven days old. Shiva has lost his consort, Sati, who immolates herself in the holy pyre after she had her husband are insulted by her father, Daksha.

The story:

Uma/Parvati is incarnation of Sati born to Himavan (or Parvata, thus deriving her name Parvati), who is personification of the Himalayas. This epic poem consists of eight cantos starting from birth of Uma and ending with Uma spending her days happily with Lord Shiva as his consort.
In the first cantos, Lord of the mountain is blessed with a daughter. She is named Parvati and is also called Uma. She is loved by her family and is adored by everyone else. In Kailasa, Shiva meditates.
In second cantos, Lord Shiva visits the mountains where Uma offers prayers and respects to the God. Kamadeva, the Lord of Love, awaits to shoot Shiva with a flower arrow so potent that it would disturb the ascetic state of mind of the Lord Shiva himself.
In third cantos Kamadeva is successful with his mark. Lord Shiva notices the shift in his mind as he watches Uma perform her duties and experiences intense attraction towards her. Being the Lord Supreme, he sees Kamadeva hiding behind a boulder and directs his third eye at him. Kamadeva is burnt on the spot.
The Fourth Cantos is dedicated to Rati, Kamadeva's consort and Goddess of sexual delight. She is lost with out her husband and bemoans the position she is in.
In Fifth Cantos, Uma dedicates her time selflessly helping Shiva perform his daily duties. She finds herself cornered after Kamadeva's death and performs her actions with all the affection she could muster to a God who is relentless in his tapas. Uma wins him over in the end with her relentless faith.
Uma is married to Shiva in sixth and seventh cantos. In the final eighth cantos, Kalidasa describes their married life.

Technical aspects of the poem:

Sanskrit poems boasts of technical excellence. With metres playing as a clue to the emotion of the sarga (cantos) or using euphemisms to trip the listener or using a stanza simply as a homage to the geography. Having studied first half of this poem in school, importance was given to Kalidasa's excellent technical ability to hold the fort with perfect words. When it comes to Uma, he uses words that when recited are soft, nasal and gentle while with Shiva (in the beginning), the words sound harsher, throaty and are clipped. As these poems were recited in those days, Kalidasa gave special consideration to the tone of the poem. Emotional moments had words that evoked sympathy or anger; be it a husky drag or a high pitched nasal sound.
The translator Hank Heiftez notes the change in metre in the ending stanzas. Traditionally the number of lines in the final stanza of a cantos had more (sometimes even lesser) sentences. But Kalidasa had a signature style of changing the metre that marked as both ending of the cantos and its tone served as a premonition to the upcoming story.
There are works dedicated to his style, techniques, word usage, the exaggerated metaphors and his innovative way of mixing metres in his poetry.

About the translation:

There is a note to 6:3 that says "There is a beautiful echo (and pun) here which I cannot reproduce in English." This is unfortunately true not for just this stanza but several others. Sanskrit is a layered language where words change their meaning with context and some words exists for specific contexts only. While there are words that describe body parts sensually, in English they sound vulgar or obscene or technical. Since Kalidasa spends an half of a cantos explaining Uma's physical attributes, Heifetz struggles to retain Kalidasa's beauty. It isn't the short coming of the translator but the language itself.
Heiftez refers to commentaries made by Sanskrit scholars which is definitely an added bonus. Since this is a poem deep rooted in mythological tales, he gives as many references as possible to some of the outstanding words that seem out of place but are present just to make an impact or emphasize an event. And as far as translation goes, this is pretty good.

I must confess. There are handful of stanzas that are quite flat. To Heiftez's credit, the misses are few and far between, and whenever something goes amiss, Heiftez confesses in notes.

Interestingly, the eighth cantos was cut off from our school books because it had references to sex and smut. Since sex wouldn't be discovered by us fourteen year olds till the age of 18 or whatever, school boards provided summaries only for the first seven cantos even thought the spoiler is there right in the title: Kumarasambhavam - birth/origin of the young God. Right.

In conclusion, Kumarasambhavam is a must read to anyone who is interested in reading Sanskrit classics with its innovative and creative ways of expression and humanizing Gods for a little period of time.

[Mesoscope · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kalidasa was a poet of the golden age of Sanskrit verse who deserves comparison with Homer and Shakespeare. His vibrant and expressive gifts are of the first rank, as is his understanding of human psychology and divine mystery.

In this elegant translation of the first eight cantos of his Kumarasambhava, Heifetz has given the modern reader of English an excellent account of Kalidasa's magnificent long poem treating the love between Shiva and Paravati. Of the great goddess, he sings:

Like a painting unfolding under the brush
or a lotus spreading open at the sun's touch,
every part of her body had its
perfect symmetry in the fresh fullness of her youth. (1:32)

Shiva is the yogi's yogi, and he would rather remain in ascetic withdrawal and contemplation than come to the aid of his fellow gods. Paravati, daughter of the great Himalayas, is a goddess of supreme beauty and charm, and to her falls the task of drawing him forth from seclusion.

And Uma [Paravati] approached the entrance to the grove of Shiva,
who would be her husband, just as he who had seen
within himself the highest light in the trance
called The Highest Self broke off his meditation. (3:58)

When Shiva first beholds this vision, Kama, the god of love, assails the great god with a bow of mango blossoms. He struggles between the outward fire of love and the inner fire of austerity, and the problem of the poem is finding a bridge to unite these two energies.

And indeed, the psychological problem that the poem addresses, written as it is in the mid-first millennium CE, is the tension between the call of the renunciate way of life of the contemplative and the life of the householder.

This is a magnificent poem, a projection onto a grand stage of a perennial human situation, exemplifying the case of a distracted human being who is civilized and coaxed out of self-absorption by the powers of a beautiful and loving companion.

Kalidasa is just the poet to tell this story. As with his great play "The Recognition of Shakuntala," he shows himself to possess a great and sensitive gift for potent imagery, and a great insight into the mysteries of beauty and love.

[mahesh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kumarsambhavam is one of the greatest EPIC poems in classical Sanskrit written by Kavi Ratna Kalidasa. Unfortunately, I haven't found his work in Kannada yet, so I have to read it in English. Even though it's in English, the Words of Kalidasa still echo the unparalleled beauty of the world resting in the corner of your room.
The poem mainly narrates the story in poetic format about the Birth Of Kumara(Kartikeya), Even though the poem gives you the end-to-end story of his birth, that is not the highlight of this epic. What captures your attention is the reunion of Shiva and Parvati in the poetic glamour of Kavi Ratna Kalidasa. His poem feels like honey to the sour tongue, His words feel like glowing stars in an endless dark sky.
Mingling Erotisicm in Epics without abusing the stories and Without adding vulgarity can only be done by Kalidasa. I never thought you could imagine and worship a woman's soul and body infinitely with sanctified sensuality and deep emotions until I read the works of Kalidasa.

Read a few works of Kalidasa this year, It has been a blessing. Can Bharat Mata ever produce Kavi Ratna Kalidasa once again? If she does it, We must preserve all his works. So our next generation till the end of time understand what it means to adore even the tiniest existence of this universe to its full potential.

[Richard Abbott · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was recommended Kumarasambhavam, “The Origin of the Young God“, by Kalidasa, by a friend who had noticed the reprint of the English translation by Hank Heifetz and alerted me to it. I have read a certain amount of modern Indian literature (in translation) so here was a chance to absorb a Sanskrit epic classic. Kalidasa is thought to have lived around 500AD, but most details of his life have long gone. His work, however, has proved to be enduring, and this is an exceptionally great poem which became part of the standard against which other works might be judged.

The theme of the work is the courtship of Shiva and Parvati, as imagined through their personal interactions, the participation of other individuals, and the rich echoes of their emerging love in the natural world. The 8th section celebrates their sexual union after their wedding. In due course this will lead to the birth of the Young God of the title, who will liberate parts of the natural and divine world from oppression. Over the years, this final section has been sometimes been regarded as an improper subject for poetry, and has often been omitted from published versions. To me this immediately brought to mind the Song of Songs in the Hebrew Bible, which has from time to time only gained acceptance by being read as allegory rather than literal delight.

For the curious, Heifetz explains the different kinds of metrical pattern used by Kalidasa, as well as highlighting other devices used, such as alliteration. He also speaks a little about his own choices in translation – when to be literal, when to add an explanatory phrase, when to try to imitate a pattern of sound. Sanskrit poetry was based on several patterns of long and short syllables, like classical Greek and Latin metres but unlike ancient near eastern or more recent European ones. This means that direct imitation of the variety of metrical forms, and their specific associations, is not possible in English, and Heifetz explores other ways of representing the differences.

But the poem itself can be read and enjoyed without troubling with any of this, so that the reader can immerse him or herself in Parvati’s determined efforts to win Shiva over, followed by Shiva’s gentle and sensitive arousal of Parvati’s desire. One of the outstanding features of the work is the extended use of imagery from the natural world – flowers, birds, animals, mountains, and the cycle of the seasons are all invoked and drawn up into the relationships of the divine couple.

At the end of the book I found myself filled with a great regret that the ancient Egyptians never had the opportunity to interact and cross-fertilise with ancient India. The ways in which both human and natural worlds participate seamlessly and shamelessly with the universe of gods became alien to Europe, but would have found a resonance in Pharaonic Egypt. Conversely, there is a haunting sense in some Egyptian literature that Egypt never really found another deep culture to relate to. I feel that there was a loneliness there that longed for, but never fulfilled, the possibility of being united with another. Perhaps Shiva and Parvati succeeded in marriage, where Egypt and India failed even to meet. But you have to wonder what kind of young god would have been the fruit of their union.

I have to give a star rating to post this review on some sites, even though that feels bizarre for an acknowledged literary pinnacle of its culture. Five stars, of course. The book will not appeal to everybody, but deserves to be better known and more widely read by those many people who cannot do so in Sanskrit.

[Ujjwala Singhania · Rating 5 out of 5]

कालिदास जी की रचना की समीक्षा करना सूरज को दिया दिखाने जैसा है l इसलिए केवल अपने भाव के बारे में लिखूँगी की कुमारसम्भव पढ़ते हुए अधरों पर मुस्कान और मन में प्रसन्नता खेल रही थी I बस यह रह गया कि इस महाकाव्य को गद्य में पढ़ा और पद्य में पढ़ना है l

[Soumya K S · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kumarasambhavam is one of the Mahakavya's by the world famous ancient Indian poet Kalidasa. It says about the love of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. There are 8 Sargas, actually 17 was found but they are not accurate. The poem begins with a description of Himalaya who is described as the father of Parvati also known as Uma.
The translation is really helpful for those who don't know Sanskrit. It is written in simple language. The translator tries his best to give a best translation. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It explains even a small detail. This is a best book for those who are interested in Indian religious history.
Read and Enjoy ✨️

[Rohan Rajesh · Rating 5 out of 5]

The verses on Spring alone are the most evocative I have ever read. Kalidasa's poetic rendering of his minute observations of India's flora and fauna are simply breathtaking. The rest of the oeuvre - describing the marriage of Parvati to Shiva - are, as expected, some of the best of Sanskrit poetry.

Also, much credit must go to Dr. Kale for his excellent literary and historical context setting and his inclusion of later Sanskrit commentaries.

[Edward Butler · Rating 3 out of 5]

Three stars not for the original text, which is clearly sublime, but on account of uncertainty as to the quality of the translation. It's noteworthy that Griffith omitted from his translation of the Ramayana the chapters (1.37-8) concerning the Glory of Uma and the Birth of Kartikeya, because they were in his view "both in subject and language offensive to modern taste"; hence I am skeptical of the fidelity of his translation here.

[Namrata · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the first long poem I ever read. It was full of metaphors I never knew existed. Beautifully written.

[Ken Langer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kalidasa is often said to be the Shakespeare of India and The Origin of the Young God is considered one of his best poems. It is the story of the how the tender and lovely Parvati (the daughter of Himalaya) wins over the ascetic god Shiva, as well as their courtship, marriage, and the consummation of that marriage. Kalidasa's Sanskrit flows musically in one's ear, and it is simply not possible to recreate the beauty of the original. Nevertheless, Hank Heifetz 1985 translation does an admirable job in conveying not only the sense of each stanza, but also the rhythm. An example is 1.8, a lovely verse describing the winds of the Himalaya, the future father of Parvati.

He blows into the hollows of bamboos with the wind
rising up from the mouths of his caves as if he were
sending that sound out of a drone note for demigod
Kinnara musicians to build on when they sing.

However, in trying too hard to reproduce the Sanskrit syntax, Heifetz tends to break the flow of lines with one or more long parenthetical clauses. Consider his translation of stanza 7.18, describing Parvati:

The lower lip of that woman whose limbs were perfect,
with the red of it heightened a little by wax and a line
swelling up at its center, the fruit of its grace
soon to come, was pulsing, adding an indescribable beauty.

By the time I got to the word verb, I'd forgotten what it was that was pulsing.

Heifetz's notes are good, but they often just give the literal meaning of a word or phrase, rather that speak to the word, phrase, or verse's meaning.

I will close by quoting the last stanza of the entire poem, (8.91), which is my all-time favorite. Here, Shiva, the ascetic god, after eight long cantos, finally gets to make love to his new wife. And he does so with a vengeance. It's a love-making that seems to be powered by the psychic energy the god had stored up from years practicing austerities in the forest. No wonder this canto was censured in the Indian schools.

With the day and the night the same to him,
Shiva spent his time making love
and he passed twenty-five years
as if it were a single night
and his thirst for the pleasures of loving
never became any less in him
as the fire that burns below the ocean
is never satisfied by the rolling waters.

I would have left the original "one hundred fifty seasons" instead of Heifetz's "twenty-five years," since "seasons" is the more colorful word and ties in with the many descriptions of Spring and nature. All in all, though, it's a worthy translation of this fine verse and a good example of Heifetz's excellent craft. Afterthought: the modern reader may wonder how Parvati's dealing with twenty-five years of non-stop sex, but that's another matter.

[Preetam Chatterjee · Rating 5 out of 5]

World Sanskrit Day, 2025:

On World Sanskrit Day, to turn to Kālidāsa is to return to the living pulse of one of the oldest languages of human civilisation, and among his great creations, Kumārasambhava shines with a peculiar brilliance.

Composed in the 4th or 5th century CE, this mahākāvya is at once a love story, a theological meditation, and a cosmic allegory.

The poem narrates the union of Śiva, the aloof ascetic, and Pārvatī, the devoted daughter of Himālaya, culminating in the birth of Kumāra, the war god destined to vanquish the demon Tārakāsura.

But to recapitulate the story is to miss the true grandeur of the work. What Kālidāsa accomplishes is to show how love itself becomes a cosmic necessity and how desire and renunciation, passion and asceticism, when reconciled, sustain the very balance of the universe.

The poem begins with one of the most celebrated openings in Sanskrit literature:

अस्त्युत्तरस्यां दिशि देवतात्मा हिमालयो नाम नगाधिराजः ।
पूर्वापरौ तोयनिधी वगाह्य स्थितः पृथिव्या इव मानदण्डः ॥

“In the northern direction stands Himālaya, king of mountains and soul of divinity; stretching across the eastern and western seas, he stands as though he were the measuring rod of the earth.”

This single verse announces Kālidāsa’s artistry: the Himalaya is geographical reality, mythic presence, and metaphorical axis of the world. The stage for the drama of gods is not just set; it is sanctified. Within this cosmic setting unfolds the courtship of Śiva and Pārvatī, a narrative that moves from austerity to passion, from separation to union, and ultimately to the birth of a saviour.

Kālidāsa’s virtuosity lies in making every aspect of nature participate in the story. When Pārvatī’s love deepens, spring itself seems to awaken:

कालेन सञ्चोदितचूतशाखाः प्रसन्नमन्दानिललालितानि ।
वृन्दानि साक्षादिव कोकिलानां जायन्ते कामस्य पुरःसरीणि ॥

“With the mango branches urged on by time and caressed by gentle breezes, groves arise like the retinues of the god of love himself, heralded by the cuckoos’ songs.”

The seasons are not background but mirrors of emotion. The forest blooms when love stirs; it withers when hope falters. Kālidāsa’s descriptive power is inseparable from his emotional insight.

The poem’s most dramatic moment arrives when Kāma, god of love, dares to awaken desire in Śiva and is annihilated by the fire of the third eye:

ततः स कन्दर्प इव प्रजज्ञे हृदि स्थितः काम इवाग्निरासीत् ।
जज्वाल देहं त्रिनयाननस्य तृतीयनेत्रेण हुताशनेन ॥

“Then Kāma, like fire itself, entered Śiva’s heart; but consumed by the flame from his third eye, he was reduced to ashes.”

Desire here meets the fury of renunciation, and yet out of this very destruction is born the possibility of union. Kālidāsa delights in paradox: only by burning desire can desire be purified into love worthy of divinity.

Śiva emerges not as a cold ascetic but as one whose detachment is tested, transformed, and ultimately harmonised with the devotion of Pārvatī. Pārvatī herself is perhaps one of the most luminous heroines of Sanskrit poetry—steadfast in love, radiant in austerity, humble yet unyielding in her resolve. Her tapas is at once personal yearning and cosmic duty, for through her devotion the world will gain a saviour.

Philosophically, the poem is rich with resonance. It stages the tension between tapas and kāma, renunciation and desire, and shows them not as opposites but as forces that must be reconciled. The birth of Kumāra is thus not only a mythological event but a metaphysical truth: creation itself arises from the union of ascetic stillness and passionate energy. In Śiva and Pārvatī, transcendence and immanence embrace.

Kālidāsa’s Sanskrit is a marvel of balance—lucid yet ornate, economical yet evocative. The verses are adorned with upamā (simile), rūpaka (metaphor), and yamaka (repetition) but never feel contrived.

They unfold with the natural elegance of a river flowing from the mountains he so lovingly describes. His mastery of rasa is evident throughout: śṛṅgāra dominates, but it is shaded by vīra in Kumāra’s destiny, adbhuta in the marvel of divine interventions, and karuṇa in Pārvatī’s struggles.

M.R. Kale’s critical edition, long considered a standard, makes this poetry accessible to modern readers. By presenting the Sanskrit text with English translation and extensive notes, Kale guides the reader through both linguistic details and cultural allusions. He neither dilutes the poetry nor burdens it with excess commentary; instead, he strikes the right balance between fidelity and explanation. For students of Sanskrit, this edition is a scholarly foundation; for general readers, it is a gateway to Kālidāsa’s world.

What makes Kumārasambhava endure is its ability to resonate with perennial human questions:

• What is the relationship between love and duty?

• Between passion and transcendence?

• Between human longing and cosmic necessity?

Kālidāsa does not offer easy answers but dramatises these tensions in ways that still feel urgent. In an era where love is often trivialised, his vision restores its sacred dimension. In a time of ecological anxiety, his nature imagery reminds us to see the world as alive, responsive, and intertwined with human destiny.

The poem may be set in the mythological past, but its concerns are timeless. The union of Śiva and Pārvatī is not merely a divine romance; it is a symbolic reconciliation of opposites, a reminder that creation requires both austerity and passion, detachment and devotion. That Kumāra is born out of this union is less a plot resolution than a metaphysical insight: from harmony emerges strength, from balance comes renewal.

To read Kālidāsa on World Sanskrit Day is to affirm that Sanskrit is not a dead language but a living reservoir of wisdom and beauty. The shlokas do not merely belong to a museum of texts; they continue to speak, to sing, and to provoke thought and wonder. Kumārasambhava is proof that poetry can be at once sensuous and sacred, personal and cosmic. It is no surprise that later generations revered Kālidāsa as the kavi-kulaguru, the master of poets.

In the end, the work leaves one with the image of the Himalaya itself—lofty, immovable, yet streaming with countless rivers that nourish the plains. Kālidāsa’s poem is that mountain: a towering creation whose beauty flows endlessly into the lives of those who approach it.

And through Kale’s careful editing and translation, the modern reader too can drink from these streams.

On this day dedicated to Sanskrit, to read Kumārasambhava is not only an act of homage to Kālidāsa but a reminder that the questions of love, devotion, and cosmic balance remain as vital today as they were fifteen centuries ago.

[Maxin James]

Kumarasambhavam (the origin of the Young God) is perhaps the greatest long poem in classical Sanskrit by greatest poet of the language, Kalidasa. His sanskrit is most refined Sanskrit and expressed one of most beautiful usages and descriptions of Indian Myths and literature. The beautiful poetical translation by Hank Heifetz is simply awesome and is able to bring out the beauty of original verses.

The long poem begins with description of birth of Parvathi, the poem then proceeds in perfect sensuous detail through her love making with Shiva until the night after their wedding. This poem is tale of union of Parvathi and Shiva wherein Gods are viewed both as lovers as well as Cosmic Principles.

The poem enlightens us on our love with beloved from its mundane human form to holy communion with ultimate Principle.If we read deeply, the book is about Tapas of soul to reach her beloved. The beauty is both in Tapas of Paravthi and also in its completion in holy communion with Supreme Principal in form of Shiva.

Kalidasa, was greatest Sankrit poet and lived during Gupta Dynasty, the Golden Period of India. Kalidasa was pinnacle of Golden Age in Sanskrit literature, where dramas are in fact long poems.

[g ~ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am in love. I've always wanted to read Kālidāsa's work and finally got round to reading Kumarasambhavam, and I'm just in love.

Heifetz's translation is exquisite. The manner in which the poem flows is so elegant, almost like a river flowing.

To read the love of Shiva and Parvati depicted so beautifully, sensually, and most importantly, so respectfully; I'm just in awe. Kālidāsa illustrates their interactions and their longing for each other so divinely that it feels like a blessing to be reading such a masterpiece.

I'll be reading this again and again forever.

And if I'm destined for love, may it follow the footsteps of the God and Goddess I adore.

[Nagarajan Madeswaran · Rating 5 out of 5]

This ancient gem is beyond our reviews. It is a poetic delight and we should count ourselves fortunate to be able to read such superlative works after so many centuries and in a form that we can comprehend.

[Akash Gupta · Rating 4 out of 5]

An amazing book by Kalidas. The shringar and saundarya written by kalidas can't be written by anyone so beautifully, he truly is a mahakavi. Surely read this hindi classic.

[Shashank Garg · Rating 5 out of 5]

I heard it as an audiobook on Audible. I was a book-reading purist till now and did not believe that audiobooks could do justice to books, but I think the narrator did full justice to this masterpiece.

The prologue by the narrator is very detailed and added a clear context which is very helpful given the alienness of the time when this book was written. The prose of the book, though lost in translation was par excellence. The flow of the text felt very modern and fast-paced. The use of figures of speech was great and at times felt even better than what poetry of the current day has to offer.

It is also worth mentioning that this book talks about the topic of sex in a very matter-of-fact manner and even mentions it very beautifully. The description of Parvati's body(who was a goddess) and other feminine figures which often includes emphasising their breasts and posterior is done in a very elegant fashion. It also shows us how prude we have become as a society. I cannot imagine any contemporary text talking about the breasts of a goddess to emphasise her feminine beauty and discuss the intimate moments of gods.

The beautiful description of human emotion, of Rati's grief when Kamadev dies or the feeling of love between Shiva and Parvati has been done very craftily.

This book really gives us a reason to be proud of our rich heritage. Everyone should read this book and be proud of the rich literature that we have. The profound understanding we had about human emotions and the richness of our language. Although it is lost in the Hindi translation, the technicalities of the language are way ahead of its times.

[Gregory Moses · Rating 4 out of 5]

Giving a star rating to something like this will never not be funny to me, but I guess it reflects my reaction well enough--it's a remarkable work, but didn't really "do it" for me like The Recognition of Sakuntala did. But also, I think I just don't feel pure verse like a do a play. But I found parts of it, for example Rati's Lament after Shiva destroys her husband, quite powerful. The translator doesn't over-adorn the verse (a real flaw in older translations of Sanskrit material), and provides extensive textual notes--although I think it's probably better to plow through unfamiliar references rather than constantly interrupt your reading by referring to them.

I do have one very concrete frustration--that this is a translation of the first eight sargas. I get it--there's a strong consensus that the rest of the seventeen aren't by Kalidasa. But if you brought a copy of "William Shakespeare's Pericles, Prince of Tyre" and then discovered that it omitted the first two acts, that would be annoying, right? I may say that this is a recurrent frustration for me in re: Sanskrit translations. There are multiple translations of Kumarasambhavam ... but all only of the first eight cantos. There have been multiple translations of attempted translations of the Mahabharata and the Ramayana ... but all of the same "Critical Editions." Show a little verve, and translate something for the first time instead of endlessly re-doing other translators' work.

[Prabhat sharma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kumarsambhavam : The origin of the young God (Kindle Edition) by Kalidasa- It is an epic poem in 17 cantos. In short, the story is that Lord Shiva has married Parvati. Lord Shiva has won Kamadev, the God of Love and he shows little interest in love. Parvati performs spiritual penance to achieve his love by the blessing of God. Here Tarakasura the demon is fighting the Devas and thier King Indra and the Dev army is not able to resist him . Tarakasura has done spiritual penance has the blessing that he cannot be killed by any person except by the son of Shiva. All Devas and Parvati wish that a son is born so that the he can kill Tarakasura. The poem describes love, nature, spring, metaphor form. It is a good read book for all.

[Karuna · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was the first modern English translation of Kalidasa I have read. Since English is not my mother tongue, perception of the beauty of poetry is a bit of a challenge for me, therefore I read this translation as rather a build-up to the divine origin of Karthika from the birth of Goddess Parvati and her mesmerizing description as a daughter of Himalayas to the marriage with Shiv ji and their years of lovemaking. I can only imagine how lovely the descriptions would be in Sanskrit, with the melody and tone conveyed through the sounds itself! However, I kust applaud the work done by Hank Heifetz, since he got rid of archaic English of early Sanskrit translators and brought the poetry back to life in our times!
Minus one star should go to me for my inability to read Sanskrit:(

[Rupinder · Rating 3 out of 5]

It is IMHO unfair to review this classic, so I will just comment on the translation, which was a bit mechanical and laconic. The translator could have elaborated on the context of various important passages. Anyhow, an important epic by Kalidasa, and another classic checked off my too-long TBR list of Sanskrit texts :)

[Richa · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful, descriptive, if at times erotic, romantic story of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati's bethrotal and marriage. There is a lot of sweet nectar in these words of Kalidasa. The english translation is very clear and charming bringing forth the story in a very ornamentive way. This is a detailed text book where one understands the epic poem clearly.

[A. B. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kalidasa's writing is definitely beautiful in a literary sense, but for some reason his poetry leaves me cold. It is like a very intricately crafted monument from an entirely alien atmosphere. I hate to make this allegation: but the beauty of the text seems surface-level, with no great philosophical depth.

[Aaron Schuschu · Rating 3 out of 5]

This nineteenth century translation of what may have been a Hindu poem from antiquity was about Shiva’s relationship and wedding with Uma. Not sure if Uma is Kali. There may have been a Sati reference. Where was Parvati in all the action? But this translation had so many anachronisms and and described women how they tended to be described in the nineteenth century that, at least in part, this poem had to have been a product of British colonial ineptitude.

[Frank Ashe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Why did I leave this on my to-read shelf for so long?
From one of the greats of Sanskrit literature, and brilliantly translated to English poetry.

[John Redmon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nice to get a taste of ancient Hindu poetry and culture. However, personally I have a lot of classic poetry under my belt and reading translated poetry is never fully satisfying.

[Sardarrai · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nice

[Upendra Awasthi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent

Description of Kalidas reminds of Valmiki in Ramayan.
An excellent part of Sanskrit literature translated in Hindi par excellence.
I recommend it.

[Leia Deva]

charming, beautiful language and esp. metaphors. :)