‘Great Naga,’ he said aloud. ‘What is your sister’s name?’
Vasuki answered sibilantly but with obvious grace and respect, ‘Jaratkaru, I know of your vows and conditions and come to you well aware of them. My younger sister’s name is also Jaratkaru, the same as your own. I waited only until she was of sufficient age to be given away in marriage, preserving her carefully for you. Take this slender-waisted beauty as your wife.’
And Vasuki stepped aside to reveal, standing behind him, a beautiful young girl who exactly met Jaratkaru’s conditions and demands for an ideal wife. Thus did the forces of brahman conjunct to ensure that the same snakes who had been cursed by their own mother to burn some day in a sacrificial fire of a king named Janamajaya married one of their siblings to the yayavara Jaratkaru, that they might set into motion the events that would countermand the curse upon their species.
Pleased with Vasuki’s offer, Jaratkaru married the Nagaraja’s sister in accordance with all due rites. In time, they had a son named Astika, who grew up well learned in the Vedas and Vedangas. He was impartial to all beings in the three worlds. His presence dispelled all fear from the hearts of his mother and father and they were both content. Jaratkaru’s lineage had been continued and his ancestors, freed from their descent, rose upto moksha, showering blessings upon their descendant and his heirs.
||Three||
Kulapati Shaunaka was pleased with this account but requested Sauti, ‘Son of Lomarsana, you are most gracious. Your eloquence and felicity of narration are incomparable. Your father would be very proud of you, for you match even his own prowess in reciting these ancient tales using perfect metre and phrasing. I know there is far more to the tale of Astika than you have narrated until now. I entreat you, pray tell us the entire tale without leaving any detail out, with all diversions and deviations as it contains.’
Sauti bowed to Shaunaka. ‘Great tiger of the Bhrigu line, how can I refuse you? I told you the abbreviated version of Astika’s story. As you will it, I shall now narrate the unexpurgated tale in its entirety exactly as my father taught it to me.’
||Four||
Many years ago, in the Age of the Devas, there lived the Prajapati Daksha. He had two beautiful daughters. Their names were Kadru and Vinata. Daksha married both daughters to the Sage Kashyapa. One day, feeling generously disposed to his wives, Kashyapa told each of them that they could avail of any boon they desired. Both sisters were overjoyed. Kadru was the first to ask for her boon and she demanded one thousand nagas as her sons, each fiercer than the other and equally splendid. Goaded by her sister’s demand, Vinata also asked for sons, but demanded only two, specifying that they must both be greater than Kadru’s sons in strength, form, energy and courage. Kashyapa gladly granted his wives their requests and sired upon them the sons they desired. ‘Care well for your sons to be!’ he cautioned them, then left for the forest on a task.
A great length of time passed.
Finally, Kadru gave birth to one thousand eggs and Vinata birthed two eggs. Their maids kept the eggs separately in steaming vessels as instructed and waited for the eggs to hatch.
Five hundred years passed.
After five hundred years, Kadru’s eggs hatched and as promised, one thousand sons emerged. But Vinata’s two eggs remained unhatched.
Unable to tolerate her sister having gained her promised sons without she being similarly blessed, the impatient Vinata broke open one of her eggs. She saw that the upper half of the body was fully grown but the lower half was as yet unformed. Enraged, the unborn son opened his eyes and glared at his mother in anger: ‘Mother, by cracking open my shell before my time, you have doomed me to be thus deformed forever. As punishment for your rash act, I curse you to be the slave of the woman you sought to rival for five hundred years! Only your other son may set you free from that enslavement, but only if you wait another five hundred years until he is fully developed and breaks open his shell of his own accord.’
Having issued this curse, the unformed son of Vinata rose into the sky and became the phenomenon we now call Aruna, the red sky of dawn, who is also the charioteer of the sun-god Surya and heralds his imminent arrival.
A further five hundred years passed.
And then the second egg cracked open and Vinata’s second son was born, fully formed and resplendent, a being of incomparable power. This was Garuda, king of birds. As soon as he was birthed, he took flight into the sky to search for the food that had been pre- ordained for him by the Creator, abandoning his mother.
||Five||
Shortly after Garuda’s departure, the two wives of Kashyapa saw a great horse approaching the sage’s ashram. This was no ordinary horse. A great stallion, this was the jewel of the species, the best of all horsekind, so radiant that even the devas cheered when he arose from the great churning of the ocean which we know as amrit- manthan. This was Ucchaihshrava himself, supreme among all horses, greatest of his kind, possessed of unsurpassed strength, radiant with divine splendour, and born with all the auspicious marks. He was one of many magnificent things that emerged from the amrit-manthan. He was king of horses.
The great mountain Meru blazes with energy, turning resplendent beneath the rays of the sun when they fall upon its glowing golden peaks. Arrayed with ornaments of burnished gold, frequented by devas and gandharvas, the peak is unnattainable and its base unfathomable to anyone who has committed sins against dharma. Terrible predators roam its slopes; divine herbs illuminate it. This great peak rises to cover even the vaults of swargaloka, the highest heaven. To most beings it is unreachable even in their wildest imaginings. Boundless rivers and scented groves resound with the sweet song of every kind of bird. It has stood aloft through the eons. It was up to this same mountain’s bejewelled peak that the most venerable devas once ascended. These great divinities, austere and faithful of oath, assembled and began deliberations on how best to obtain the sacred ambrosia named Amrit, elixir of immortality. For once they obtained and consumed the Amrit, they would become immortal and therefore immune to the assaults of their enemies, the asuras.
It was Narayana, our great Lord Vishnu, who advised them on the best method, addressing his words to his fellow member of the holy Trimurti, Lord Brahma: ‘This is not a task for us devas alone. We must enlist the aid of the asuras as well. Together, we must churn the pot of curdled milk until the best of herbs and precious treasures are released, and finally the Amrit itself will emerge. This is the only way to obtain the sacred ambrosia.’ The pot he spoke of was of course the great Sagara, the vast ocean.
Acting on Narayana’s instructions, the devas went to Mount Mandara. Their goal was to uproot the great mountain and use it as a churning pestle to work the ocean, for it was the only thing that could suffice for the task. Now, Mount Mandara is a great peak among mountains. It rises up 11,000 yojanas, which is a length equivalent to 44,000 kroshas, or 99,000 miles! This is only the height of the mountain—its foundation descends many more thousands of yojanas into the earth. Moreover, the mountain is gargantuan in weight and proportion, with innumerable nets of creepers covering its vast jungles filled with many fierce-fanged beasts of prey. Even the best attempts of the devas failed to uproot it. In desperation, they returned to stand before Vishnu and Brahma with joined palms. ‘Aid us in uprooting Mount Mandara, great ones. You have but to will it and it will be done.’
‘So be it,’ said Vishnu. And on his word, the great Nagaraja Anantha unwound his epic coils and rewound himself around the vast bulk and length of Mount Mandara. Exerting a mighty effort, the king of snakes uprooted the mountain with a deafening sound and dragged it behind the congregation of the devas and asuras, all the way to the ocean. There they called upon the lord of the ocean, Sagara, and requested, ‘We wish to churn your waters, great one. Grant us leave to do so that we may produce Amrit.’
Sagara agreed, saying, ‘You may do so, but only on condition that I too shall receive a share of the ambrosia.’
Then the devas and asuras toge
ther went to fetch Akupara, the great turtle upon whose shell rests the world entire. ‘Kurmaraja, none except you can bear the mountain on your back for the purposes of the churning. Pray act as the base.’ The king of turtles agreed and using elaborate tools and ingenuity, Lord Indra undertook the task of fixing Mount Mandara to the back of the great turtle at the bottom of the ocean. Finally, all was in readiness for the churning to begin.
Working together in collaboration for the mutual goal of obtaining the elixir of immortality, the devas and asuras all joined hands to share in the epic task. With Mandara as the churning rod, Vasuki the rope, and Akupara as the base, they began to churn Sagara, the pot of curdled milk as Narayana had called it. The asuras and danavas grasped the head of Vasuki, while the devas took hold of his tail. Vasuki’s brother Anantha stayed by his lord Narayana, and repeatedly raised his brother Vasuki’s head as it emerged from the great waters, then hurled it down again with force, to aid the churning. Vasuki’s enormous length wound up and down, up and down, repeatedly, until sparks, then flames, then puffs of fire and black smoke began to belch forth from his maw.
From this black smoke were created clouds with lightning in their belly and thundershowers raged down upon the devas, refreshing them and washing them clean of their fatigue from time to time. From the top of the spinning mountain, great quantities of flowers were set free by the force of the churning, and these blossoms rained down as well, also refreshing both devas and asuras. The churning increased in frenzy. A terrible roar began to issue from the depths of the ocean, like the loudest thunder ever heard. Untold hordes of oceanic creatures and submarine life forms were crushed by the mountain and their habitats destroyed forever. From the whirling mountain Mandara, great trees were snapped loose by the force and fell off, killing the birds that nested in them. The wood of the trees began to catch fire from the friction produced by the churning motion. Wildfires blazed unchecked, adding to the chaos and peril. The animals and predators that dwelled on the mountain were driven out, some scorched by the fires, others flung loose by the churning, and died with terrible screams. All manner of creatures perished. Mount Mandara began to resemble a black thundercloud within which lightning flashed and fires raged. The fires spread everywhere, endangering all living beings on earth.
Indra saw the danger and used his power as lord of storms to quench the fires with a thunderous downpour. The rain, lightning, fire, and the force of the churning began to squeeze out the juices of countless herbs and the resins of trees caught in the maelstorm, producing a juice with no less potency than the elixir itself. Drinking of this juice, the devas attained immortality. The rest of the juice ran into the ocean and mingled with its milky depths, and from the continued churning, this milky mixture turned into the purest of ghee, which in turn floated up to the surface, redolent of the finest essences.
The devas called out to Brahma who was seated and watching the Amrit Manthan. ‘Great Brahma, we are weary with effort. As are the asuras and danavas, daityas and both the Nagarajas Anantha and Vasuki. Yet the Amrit itself has not yet appeared, even after eons of churning. We cannot continue thus forever. We beseech you, entreat Lord Vishnu to aid us and give us strength to complete the task.’
Brahma spoke to Vishnu: ‘Vishnu, only you can help them complete this task. Lend them a portion of your divine strength.’
Vishnu replied: ‘They shall have the strength they desire. I grant this energy to all those who have devoted themselves to this task. Now there is only one last phase left to complete: Insert Mandara into the ocean once more and turn it around the other way!’
At Vishnu’s words, all those participating in the Amrit Manthan felt themselves rejuvenated and energized. They did as Vishnu said, bending their backs to one mighty effort as they inserted the mountain down into the oceanic depths once more, then turned it around the other way. Now they churned with a new frenzy, and the noise of their effort filled all the three worlds. Once more the maelstorm spun.
And from the depths of the maelstorm there arose the following things of power:
First came the Sun, radiating a hundred thousand rays.
Then came the Moon, whose bright cool light was as tranquil as the sun’s was fierce.
Next came Sridevi, the goddess Lakshmi, clad in pale white.
Following her came the goddess of wine and the white horse, Ucchaihshrava.
Then came the celestial gem Kaustubha which eternally adorns Vishnu’s chest.
The radiant Sun, Aditya, swift as thought itself, blazed a trail and was followed by Lakshmi, the moon and Ucchaihshrava, to land before the devas.
Then from the manthan there rose the resplendent god Dhanvantari, bearing a white gourd pot in his hand, in which was contained the Amrit itself, elixir of immortality, divine ambrosia.
At this extraordinary sight, the danavas produced a great outcry, saying: ‘It is ours!’ and surged forward to claim Amrit for themselves. But Lord Vishnu used his power to assume the shape of a beautiful and seductive woman Mohini who bewitched the danavas with her beauty into giving her the gourd full of Amrit. He then gave Amrit to the devas. Enraged at this betrayal of their pact, the asuras swore a war oath against the devas and prepared for battle.
||Six||
Upon the same shores of the vast body of salty water where they had so recently worked together in perfect coordination to churn the ocean and produce Amrit, the daityas and danavas assembled, clad in their strongest armour and armed with their fiercest weapons and shields. Great was their number and terrible their rage. Outnumbered and outmatched, the devas had no hope of victory by ordinary means. But thanks to the duplicity of Vishnu, they now had possession of the elixir of immortality, the sacred ambrosia, Amrit. Even as the asuras clanged their swords against their shields and worked themselves up into a fury for battle, Naryana, our Lord Vishnu, still in his beguiling form as Mohini, handed the gourd of Amrit to Nara, his twin form with whom he sometimes merged or divided from as required, who passed it to each of the devas in turn so each one might drink from it and become immortal.
But the asuras did not lack for craftiness either. Unnoticed by the gods, a danava named Rahu assumed the form of the deva named Buddh, who is the celestial body closest to the sun. Disguised as Buddh, Rahu took the gourd of Amrit and began to drink it. But the sun and moon, being celestial bodies themselves and therefore better able to recognize their colleague, saw through Rahu’s disguise and knew that this was not their companion planet Buddh. They set off a hue and cry, alerting the other devas. Acting with the speed of thought, the great god Vishnu flung his deadly weapon, the celestial chakra, and the discus sliced off the head of Rahu before the ambrosia could pass down his throat. However, his head had consumed Amrit and therefore became immortal. Severed from its body, that jewel-decorated head gave out thunderous roars of outrage and ever since that day, a perpetual enmity began between Rahu and his betrayers, the Sun and Moon. Even today, when his rage becomes too great to control, he swallows one or other, even though they soon reappear as they slip through his severed throat.
When all the devas had drunk of Amrit, they turned immortal. And it was not a moment too soon for the asuras were worked up to a frenzy and rushed at the gods with an enormous earth-shaking roar and thundering of feet, hell-bent on revenge.
Then Vishnu shed his beguiling Mohini avatar and transformed back into his awe-inspiring true form as Hari deva. He returned their roars of rage with a great bellow of his own, drowning out their cries and proclaiming his supremacy. The hearts of the asuras quailed at the great war cry of Vishnu and the sky and ocean blackened on that great field of battle by the shores of the vast ocean which still frothed and seethed from the recent churning. Then upon those ploughed shores there commenced the greatest battle ever waged between the devas and the asuras.
The raging of the ocean, the thunder of the skies, the howling of the asuras, the battle cry of Vishnu, the roaring of the devas, all blurred and melded to form one deafening sound. The blackn
ess of the sky dimmed all sight, until the only things visible were the white froth raging on the surface of the wild seas, and on the shore, the gleaming of thousands of raised weapons—swords, axes, tridents, spears, javelins, lances, metal clubs, chakras. In the gloamy dimness the armies clashed. Javelins flew through the air, punching through breastplates, penetrating heart and lungs and gristle, severing the spine to emerge with an explosion of blood and gore. Spears pierced flesh and shattered bone to splinters. Swords laid open torsos, severed limbs. Chakras spun through the air, gleaming malevolently as they found their targets, decapitating, maiming. Clubs pounded down, smashing skulls like ripe fruit. Blood spewed from open mouths, through shattered teeth and smashed jaws. Bodies were trampled underfoot, eyes crunched to pulp beneath boot heels. Jewelled earrings, silver nose rings, engraved armour plates, filigreed shields, gold crowns, ruby signets, precious ornaments worth a world’s fortune lay trampled and marred in the muck of the battlefield. Asuras fell in great numbers, their corpses piled high in red streaked mounds that resembled copper-veined mountains. The cacophony of blood lust rang out, cries of ‘Slice!’ ‘Kill!’ ‘Chase!’ ‘Throw!’ ‘Cut!’ ‘Attack!’ ringing out like an insane battle chant.
MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#1: The Forest of Stories (Mba) Page 14
