“ Great God, “ I cried, “ Do not make me wreck frail humanity, nor become a symbol of shame to my own sex. Remember I once saved Indralok! It was I who saved Your throne! “
Those were classical times; even Gods had to heed certain rules. Lord Indra stroked His beard, tickled His chin, He burped. This meant He was thinking. “A curse cannot be revoked, “He finally proclaimed, “ but it can be modified. To hide your shame you will be invisible to all but the last man you slept with. Now you’re banished. “Even as I saw my form begin to disappear I shouted, “ Embedded in every curse is a ray of hope. Where’s mine? I demand it! “Lord Indra chuckled. “Menaka, for your quick wit We grant you this: If ever a mortal you have bewitched regrets his actions you will be released from your Curse. Then you can die. “Only my throat and head were visible when I shouted, “ Great God, Your victory over Sage Vishwamitra is recorded in imperishable myth. You owe my story more. I too need a hearing!” As my ears were evaporating I heard Lord Indra thunder, “Menaka, nymph wild in beauty and intelligence, hear Me. You’ll get to tell your story once. This doesn’t mean you’ll get a hearing, though. Ha! Thought you could outsmart me? Ha Ha Haaa…”