by Haskar
THE SEDUCTION OF SHIVA
Tales of Life and Love
Translated from the Sanskrit by A.N.D. Haksar
Contents
About the Author
Dedication
Introduction
The Seduction of Shiva
Life and Love: An Allegory
Mukti and Viveka: The Dialectic of Intercourse
The Sons of Vichitra Virya
An Appointment with Upakosha
The Barber’s Tale
A Stupid Demon
Man or Woman?
History of a Marriage
Agastya and Lopamudra
Vriddha Kanya
The Rape of Rambha
The Life and Love of a Bodhisattva
Of Husbands and Wives
Arjuna and Urvashi
The Wedding of Radha and Krishna
The Sage and the Siren
The Story of Devayani
Shriya Devi’s Ordeal
In Quest of a Consort
Notes
Bibliography
Read More
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Copyright Page
PENGUIN CLASSICS
THE SEDUCTION OF SHIVA
ADITYA NARAYAN DHAIRYASHEEL HAKSAR is a well-known translator of Sanskrit classics. Educated at the universities of Allahabad and Oxford, he was for many years a career diplomat, serving as the Indian high commissioner in Kenya and the Seychelles, minister in the United States and ambassador in Portugal and Yugoslavia. His translations from the Sanskrit include The Shattered Thigh and Other Plays, Tales of the Ten Princes, Hitopadeśa, Siṃhāsana Dvātriṃśikā, Subhāshitāvali, Kama Sutra and Three Satires from Ancient Kashmir, all published as Penguin Classics. He has also compiled A Treasury of Sanskrit Poetry which was recently translated into Arabic and published in the United Arab Emirates as Khazana al-Shair al-Sanskriti.
P.M.S.
For
my sister
Rashmi Haksar
with all my love
from
Sheel
yathā rāghavasyābhavat śāntā subhadrā kaṃsariporyathā tvaṃ tathāsi bhaginī me jīvasva sasukhaṃ sadā
Introduction
The tales presented here have been translated directly from the original Sanskrit. The ancient language is mainly associated in modern popular perception with religion and philosophy. That it is of course much more, and its vast literature also ranges over worldly life, love and human relations like that of all great languages, is an aspect this presentation endeavours to highlight.
The stories in this collection have been drawn together, perhaps on a first occasion, from a cross section of Sanskrit literature spread over a considerable time span with a wide variety in its nature, form and content. Their settings vary from the mundane to the celestial, but each touches in its own way on emotions, issues and predicaments which are ageless. A feature common to all is that they are relatively unknown to the general readership of today. Hence these translations to enable a renewed look at some notable tales from a distant past.
This is an eclectic assemblage. Almost half the stories have been taken from irreverent secular works composed mainly for the entertainment of their audiences. Their racy styles extend from the finely cultivated to the almost colloquial and their tones from the romantic and erotic to the cynical and satirical. The rest have been selected from literature traditionally regarded as scriptural, and intended primarily to edify even as it also attracts to hold attention.
Most of this second type is smriti or ‘remembered’ literature which traditionally includes itihāsa and purāṇa, that is, the two great epics and the eighteen scriptural histories. Here the style is comparatively simpler and more uniform in its versification, and the tone has an underlying didactic and reverential seriousness, though enlivened with moving narrations and colourful accounts of desire and despair, fantasy, heroism and wit.
Another narrative of this category included in the collection is a Buddhist birth story which reflects features of tales from both types of literature mentioned above. While they precede as well as follow this story in time, the art form displayed in it also points to the essential continuity in Sanskrit literature as a whole.
It is difficult to determine the dating of these tales, given the paucity of chronological and other data. According to academic estimates,1 the likely time frame may stretch from the fourth century BCE to the twelfth century CE, a period of 1500 years separated by nearly a millennium from the present times. Despite their antiquity, however, the varied background of these stories still has a contemporary resonance in several cases.
These echoes may very broadly be of relations between the sexes in the social contexts and the mindsets reflected in these tales. Such relations cover the gamut of love and life—desire and duty, need and responsibility, seduction and restraint, sex and marriage to mention only a few aspects. Their treatment in these narratives ranges from the down-to-earth to the subtly philosophical, giving additional interest to the whole.
One may begin with the stories classified here as being from secular works. These are, in order of their scholarly dating, from the seventh-century Daśa Kumāra Charitam of Dandin, the eighth-century Brihatkathāślokasaṃgraha of Budhasvamin, the eleventh-century Kathāsaritsāgara of Somadeva and the twelfth century Shuka Saptati of uncertain authorship. Their provenance, where known, extends from present-day Tamil Nadu to Kashmir.
The first three of these are written in the refined kāvya style of classical Sanskrit composition while the last uses a more folksy kathā idiom. Their backgrounds stretch from the polished and urban to the rough and rural. Their colourful descriptions range from the leisurely to the brusque, and the elegant to the bawdy, aimed primarily at amusement.
An interesting contrast is provided in the tales from the purāṇas: Bhāgavata, Mārkandeya, Matsya and Brahmavaivarta. The word purāṇa, literally ‘of ancient times’, is applied to a category of texts deemed scriptural as already mentioned. They consist principally of histories of the universe from its creation to destruction, genealogies of gods and sages, kings and heroes, and descriptions of cosmology, philosophy and geography as these were understood at the time of their composition. Traditionally ascribed to the sage Vyasa, these texts are framed in the form of stories usually centred on particular gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon, with an overall emphasis on devotion and piety.
The Bhāgavata Purāṇa, centred on the god Vishnu, has been dated approximately to the sixth or seventh century CE and the other three somewhat later. All are classed among the eighteen mahā or ‘great’ purāṇas. The whole comprises an enormous corpus, evolved over time to more than 350,000 verses. Apart from them there are also numerous upa, or minor, and sthala or regional purāṇas.
The splendid Bhāgavata allegory on human life and love is self-explanatory in its epilogue and needs little elucidation. The other tale from the same text, the god Vishnu’s incarnation as the divine seductress Mohini, is also clear in the purport of its picturesque account. Those from the Matsya and Mārkandeya are dramatic narratives with vivid characterizations which focus respectively on autonomy, duty and responsibility in relations between the sexes. That from the Brahmavaivarta depicts the cosmic dimension of a divine wedding. This epiphany is relatively little known in translation though its original text was included in an anthology of Sanskrit literature brought out by the Indian Sahitya Akademi.2
The story on sexual dialectics featuring in the twelfth-century Jaiminiya is drawn from the much older Mahābhārata narrative, five tales of which are included here. All but one focus on the
social dimensions of marriage and sexual relations, described both emotively and in a manner which may now appear somewhat tongue-in-cheek. The tale of Rambha and Ravana from the even older Rāmāyaṇa of Valmiki is by contrast straightforward in its sharp and moving narration. So is the tale of Arjuna and Urvashi, from the Mahābhārata, extolling the merits of restraint. That of Usha and Aniruddha from the fifth-century Harivaṃśa is a beautiful love story which incidentally points also to the familial relations between gods and demons in Indian mythology.
The tale of Prince Sudhana the Bodhisattva, from the eighth-century Divyāvadāna, is also a love story, the only one in the translator’s knowledge which features the future Buddha as a lover. Most jātaka accounts of his deeds in former births dwell on the cultivation of virtues like compassion and caring for others, truth, patience and self-control, as prerequisites for eventual enlightenment. In this fine heroic tale it is love for the beloved in all its glory. The tale also has satirical comments on social situations of the time. Couched in graceful and evocative language, it exhibits features of both the kāvya and the smriti genres in its attractive elegance and its reverential piety.
The purely narrative content of Sanskrit literature often appears to have been overshadowed by the scholarly attention devoted to its philosophical, sacerdotal, linguistic and academic dimensions. The principal stories in the two great epics are well known, but not equally so the many tales within tales they also contain. The numerous stories within the purāṇa histories are even less known to modern readers. Altogether these constitute a treasure trove of fine narratives deserving of greater present notice for their ageless and essentially human content as compared to any didactic expositions which accompany them. This applies no less to the multitude of other less known stories from sacred or secular Sanskrit literature to which the tales presented here can be a pointer.
The textual sources of these translations are indicated at the end of each tale. My renditions attempt to combine fidelity to the original texts, and an effort to also convey something of their flavour, with the requirements of modern English usage. In some cases they include short initial retellings to provide a context to the story and occasional omissions to avoid repetition. In all cases I have devised the story titles for ease of reading.
The earliest of these translations, that of the Puranjan allegory, was made nearly a quarter-century ago and appeared in a slightly different form in 1989 in the National Herald of New Delhi. The translations of the stories from the Daśa Kumāra Charitam and the Shuka Saptati are revised versions of those which earlier appeared in my books with the same names published respectively by Penguin in 1994 and by HarperCollins in 1999. The rest are presented here for the first time.
I would like to thank R. Sivapriya of Penguin India for our discussions about this book and for giving me additional time to work on it. It was completed at the homes of my daughter Sharada, and of my son and daughter-in-law, Vikram and Annika, to whom I send my love and gratitude, especially to my grandson Nikhil for his assistance with the computer and to my granddaughter Freya for her lively company. I am also obliged to Shatarupa Ghoshal of Penguin for copy-editing this book, and to Shafali Bhatt and Rajeev Mishra of the India International Centre library, New Delhi, for their help with the textual and reference material. Most of all I thank my dear wife Priti for her unfailing support and encouragement in this as in all my work, in many ways no words can describe. Nor can they my sister Rashmi, to whom this book is dedicated on her birthday today.
Delhi
8 November 2013
A.N.D.H.
The Seduction of Shiva
Amrit gives immortality to anyone who drinks it. Desirous of obtaining this divine nectar, the gods and the demons churned the ocean in times bygone. The mountain Mandara was their churning rod, and the serpent Vasuki the strong cord for turning it.
After a long churning, during which the ocean yielded many treasures, at last, an extraordinary personage appeared from its frothing billows. He had long muscular arms, a throat contoured like a conch shell, and eyes tinged with red. He wore a garland and jewelled earrings, gleaming ornaments on every limb and a yellow garment on his dark and handsome body. Broad-chested and with wavy glistening hair, he looked in his unparalleled beauty like a young lion. This was none other than Dhanvantari, the expounder of the Ayurveda.1 In his hands was the pitcher filled with amrit.
The demons had been waiting for this moment. At once they seized the pitcher of amrit from Dhanvantari’s hands. The gods were dismayed and sought refuge with Sri Hari2 who is a wish-fulfilling tree for his devotees. ‘Gods,’ he said to them, ‘do not be distressed. I will help you and sow dissension among the demons with my power of illusion.’
Then, as the demons fought among themselves for the nectar, the all-wise Hari assumed the form of a young woman, marvellous beyond all description. This was Mohini, the enchantress. Her complexion was the colour of a blue lotus flower and all her limbs were exquisite. Rings glittered in her perfectly matched ears, set on either side of a lovely face with charming temples and a chiselled nose. Above a slender waist, her bosom seemed to be bursting with youth and her eyes flashed at the bees which were drawn to the fragrance of her breath. Her long hair was braided with a garland of jasmine buds. She wore ornaments at her throat and wrists, and a girdle over her gleaming garments, with anklets tinkling softly on her feet. Her coy smile, arched eyebrows and sensuous gaze aroused waves of desire in the hearts of the demon generals.
The rest of the story is well known. The demons were infatuated by Mohini. They ceased quarrelling amongst themselves for the pitcher of amrit, and asked her to distribute its contents between them. She told them she could not be trusted, but they insisted and agreed to abide by all her conditions, even if they were improper.
Mohini made the demons and the gods sit in separate rows facing each other. Passing in between, she distracted the demons with her gait and glances even as she distributed the nectar only to the gods before disappearing from the scene.
The great god Shiva3 heard that Sri Hari had assumed the form of Mohini to bewitch the demons and enable the gods to drink the amrit. He then got up on his bull and proceeded, along with his consort Sati and a flock of attendants, to Hari’s abode.
Sri Hari welcomed Shiva with great affection. ‘Lord,’ Shiva said with a smile, ‘you have assumed numerous incarnations and I have seen them all. Now I wish to see this feminine form you adopted which enchanted the demons and allowed the gods to quaff that ambrosia. We have all come to see that form, for our hearts are filled with curiosity.’
‘O Shiva,’ replied Sri Hari, ‘the bowl of amrit had come into the demons’ hands at that time. It was only to distract them with a new wonder and to help the gods that I assumed the form of a woman. Since you too wish to see it, I will show it to you; but it is sought only by pleasure-loving people, for it excites sexual desire.’
Even as he spoke, Sri Hari disappeared. As Shiva sat with the lady Sati, looking in every direction, he saw before him a beautiful garden with all kinds of trees laden with flowers of many colours and tender leaf buds. In that grove he beheld a beautiful young woman playing with a ball.
The woman wore a pretty sari with a tasselled girdle around her hips. Her breasts and the garlands upon them trembled as she threw the ball and leapt to catch it. Her slender waist swayed and it almost seemed that it may snap with each dancing step under the weight of her bosom. Her large eyes flashed with just the hint of an expectant look. The gleam of her earrings cast a glow on her cheeks, which were swept by dark curling tresses, making her face bloom all the more. And every time her sari tended to loosen or her braided hair to unravel, she would manage them daintily with one hand while continuing to toss the ball with the other.
As she played about thus, she cast a sidelong look at Shiva and smiled demurely. Well, he lost his heart there and then. Captivated by her glances, he became so mesmerized with Mohini that he lost all awareness of himself, what to say
of Sati or the attendants at his side.
The ball then seemed to fly out of Mohini’s hand and she ran after it helter-skelter. At that moment a breeze swept away her flimsy sari along with the girdle even as Shiva watched. Every part of her body was delectable: whichever the eye fastened upon, the mind sought to enjoy. Shiva was fascinated. Her demeanour had already made him feel that she admired him; now her ways deprived him of the sense of discrimination and overwhelmed him with desire. Abandoning all decorum, he ran after the girl, right in front of Sati.
Mohini was now naked. Seeing Shiva come after her, she appeared to be very embarrassed and ran for cover from one tree to another, giggling and laughing all the while, but never stopping. Lord Shiva’s senses were out of his control. Consumed by Kama, he ran after her like an elephant does after its mate. With a burst of speed, he caught her by the hair and folded her into his arms even though she appeared unwilling. He then mounted her like the elephant does its inamorata while she struggled to free herself, her hair dishevelled.
She was in fact a divinely created illusion, a maya; somehow she escaped from Shiva’s arms and sped away. Shiva ran after Mohini who was actually that worker of wonders, the lord Sri Hari. Shiva chased her like a rutting tusker does a she-elephant in heat. Though his seed is infallible, such was Mohini’s illusory power that it spilt nevertheless, creating mines of gold and silver wherever it fell on earth. It was only then that Shiva remembered himself. ‘I have been deceived by this divine illusion,’ he thought, as he distanced himself from this sorry interlude. But he was not surprised, for he realized the greatness of the lord Sri Hari, who is both one’s own spirit as well as the spirit of all.
From Bhāgavata Purāṇa, 8.7–8, 30–46; 8.12, 15–36
Life and Love: An Allegory
There lived in times of yore a famous prince by the name of Puranjan. He had searched the whole earth for a worthy habitation, but had found none. This had saddened him, for he longed for all kinds of enjoyment, but of all the cities he had seen, not one had been found adequate for his pleasures.
