MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#1: The Forest of Stories (Mba)

by Ashok K. Banker

  The snakes were delighted to hear this excellent plan. Vasuki undertook the task of taking their sister Jaratkaru, who gladly volunteered, to the rishi when the time came. Soon after this congregation of the snakes, the Amrit Manthan began and Vasuki was used as the rope for the churning. In the course of that momentous event, he learned that almighty Brahma was in fact well aware of the plan suggested by his brother Elapatra and had in fact been the one to plant the seed of the idea in Elapatra’s head— that was how Elapatra came to overhear Brahma’s conversation with the other devas. Brahma exhorted Vasuki to delegate his snake brethren to always keep watch over Jaratkaru so that when the time came, they would be ready to fulfil his desire for a wife by offering their sister to him in marriage. Wherever Jaratkaru travelled, he was watched by snakes.

  ||Sixteen||

  Shaunaka asked, ‘What does the name Jaratkaru mean? Why was the rishi given that name? And how was it that the sister of the snakes came to have the same name?’

  Sauti answered, ‘Jara means destroy or decay. Karu means that which is huge or enormous. Jaratkaru was born with a gigantic body but over time through his austerities, he reduced it considerably, causing it to wither and decay. Thus he was named Jaratkaru. Vasuki’s sister was also born with a huge body which she retained for much of her life. But she too caused her own body to reduce until it reduced to a fraction of its original size. Thus she gained the name Jaratkaru as well.’

  Shaunaka chuckled openly at this answer as did all of the other brahmacharyas and rishis present in Naimisha-sharanya for they were familiar with the process by which even the largest-bodied reduced in size over time through constant self-deprivation and self-control. Many broke out openly in laughter as they looked around at the younger, still wide-bodied acolytes who had yet to attain to the title of Jaratkaru. ‘Very fitting!’ said the kulapati at last as the laughter finally died away. But tell us more about these two persons of the same name? How did Jaratkaru and his wife Jaratkaru fare together? You have told us only about their offspring and their stories. Tell us about Jaratkaru and his marriage. Also tell us about how his descendant Astika halted the sacrifice of Raja Janamajaya. Leave nothing out when you relate their stories.’

  Ugrasrava bowed his head. ‘I shall do so, great one. In order to accomplish my task as a suta effectively, I must shift between stories at the appropriate time. Permit me to do so without offering an explanation or warning at each transition. As you hear the stories unfold, their connections will become amply clear to your enlightened mind and you will enjoy the beauty of this great narrative of Sage Krishna Dweipayana Vyasa. For it is a masterwork of itihasa, containing all the devices of poetics and aesthetics employed in their finest grain.’

  ‘Sadhu! Sadhu!’ said Kulapati Shaunaka, and he was echoed by the great congregation around him. The echoes reverberated across the clearing, and yet again Ugrasrava Lomarsana Sauti felt certain that the auspicious exclamations were repeated even within the distant depths of the great jungle, as if the entire forest of Naimisha- van listened to and approved of his narrative prowess.

  ||Seventeen||

  Once there was a king named Parikshit. Born in the Kuru line, he was son of Abhimanyu and the great-grandson of Pandu. Like his great-grandfather, he was a dedicated hunter, devoted to the thrill and joy of the hunt. Strong of limb and keen of eye, he was an excellent archer and if he set his heart on hunting any creature, it never escaped his aim. Wild boar, deer, hyena, buffalo, every manner of creature that was fit to be hunted was pursued and brought down by his eagle eye and steady hand. One day, engaged in his favourite pursuit in the deep jungle, he shot a deer with a distinctive tuft of fur. Pierced by the arrow, the deer ran screaming into the deep woods. Like Lord Rudra seeking the sacrificial deer in swargaloka, Raja Parikshit pursued the deer relentlessly, bow ready to snap off a second fatal shot the instant he laid eyes on his prey. ‘I have never failed to bring a deer down once I set my sight on it,’ he thought, ‘and I shall not fail today.’ His pride drew him ever deeper into that jungle as the deer, even though wounded and in pain, tested his stamina to the limit. Tired and thirsty, Raja Parikshit chanced upon a humble hovel, barely a shelter beneath which stood a milch cow with calves suckling. There sat a rishi engaged in deep meditation. His name was Shamika although Parikshit did not know it. Relieved to see another human being in that desolate place, Raja Parikshit stopped before him. ‘Brahmin, I am Raja Parikshit, son of Abhimanyu. I shot a deer and it ran this way, pierced by my arrow. Did you see which way it went?’ The rishi opened his eyes and looked at the king but because he had undertaken a maun-vrata, a sacred vow of silence, he could not answer. Parikshit was a king and accustomed to being answered instantly. When the rishi continued to stare at him without answering, he was offended. But he tried to ask the question again, keeping his voice level and his manner respectful, because he had been brought up to always show respect to brahmins and elders. Still the rishi refused to answer. Parikshit was certain the deer had passed this way only moments earlier. Soon he would lose its trail and fail for the first time in his life. He was tired, hungry, thirsty and eager to end the chase quickly. When the rishi continued to ignore his queries and closed his eyes to resume his meditation, Parikshit took this as a personal affront. He lost his temper. A dead snake happened to be lying nearby. Picking it up with the end of his bow, he draped it around the rishi’s neck, intending to provoke him into speaking. But the rishi adhered to his vow and remained silent. He only opened his eyes and glared at Parikshit again, this time showing his own anger and displeasure. As Parikshit stared at the absurd sight of a rishi meditating with a dead creature draped around his throat, the Kuru king realized what he had done and felt ashamed. In his desperation to get his quarry, he had committed a grave transgression against a brahmin. Not wishing to compound his error of judgement, he quickly left that place and returned to his city, the hunt abandoned.

  Now, unknown to Parikshit, a neighbour of the meditating rishi had observed the whole incident. His name was Krisha and he was a friend of Shringi, the son of the rishi around whose neck Parikshit had placed the dead snake.

  Some time later, the rishi’s son Shringi returned home. On the way home, he met Krisha who smirked and said, ‘Shringi, you are always so proud and superior. But I just saw your father, wearing a carcass around his neck like a necklace. Is that any way for a brahmin to act, meditating with a corpse on his body?’ Shringi was a self-righteous young brahmin, austere in his views and his vows, and given to great fits of rage. He was a devotee of Brahma and it was on Brahma’s urging that he had cut short his trip to come home. He was offended by Krisha’s tone and manner of speaking. He refused to believe his friend. ‘What nonsense is this? There must be some mistake. Why would my father wear a corpse around his neck?’ Krisha laughed. ‘The only mistake was made by Raja Parikshit. The Kuru king was hunting a deer which had passed this way. He asked your father to point out the direction the deer had gone, but your father refused to answer him.’ Krisha blinked, trying to take in this information and replied crossly, ‘My father has taken a vow of silence. He cannot speak to anyone for any reason until his vow has ended.’ Krisha shrugged, still grinning. ‘Raja Parikshit must not have known that. He lost his temper at your father’s silence, picked up a dead snake and wrapped it around your father’s throat. Now look at your father, still sitting there with the carcass!’ Shringi caught hold of Krisha, who took one look at Shringi’s furious expression and stopped laughing at once. ‘Where is this King Parikshit now?’ asked Shringi. Krisha gestured with a nod of his head. ‘He left some time back. Probably went back to Hastinapura.’

  Shringi pushed Krisha aside and ran the rest of the way to his humble hermitage. He saw his father seated in the cowshed, the dead snake around his neck. Shringi’s anger swelled until his eyes turned red and his face glowed with rage. He could not bear the sight of his father, so devoted to his austerities that he survived by only drinking the froth discarded by the calves aft
er they had suckled at their mother cow’s teats, and who spent his days in utter silence under the force of the maun-vrata. His father opened his eyes and saw his son standing before him, staring at the dead snake and Shringi saw his father’s eyes turn away in humiliation. Tears sprang to Shringi’s eyes. His father still did not speak but in his mind, Shringi could hear his father’s voice saying, ‘Son, we are men of brahman. We possess nothing of value except the virtue gained by our austerities. Always remember that. Poor though we are in wealth and belongings, we are rich in austerities and can always hold our heads high with pride, for few even among brahmins can claim to be as devoted to their vocation as we are.’ It was this same approach to life that made Shringi equally proud and righteous and his heart could not bear to see his virtuous father, who had suffered and surrendered everything, humiliated in this fashion by a wealthy raj-kshatriya from such a great dynasty.

  Taking up water with his fingertips, Shringi vented his anger in a terrible curse against Parikshit. ‘I curse this evil king, defiler of brahmins, disgrace to the Kuru race, for his sin of abusing my old, feeble father. Seven nights from today, the great Takshaka, king of snakes, shall hunt down and find Raja Parikshit no matter where he hides, and shall pierce him with his fangs, using his lethal venom to send the vile kshatriya to the abode of Yama.’

  Shringi’s father Rishi Shamika heard the curse and stirred, breaking his vow of silence. ‘My son, what have you done? This is not what I have taught you? This is an act against dharma!’

  Shringi could not believe his father. ‘But look at how he treated you! I could not let him commit such an insult and walk away without consequence! I stand by my curse: Within the next seven days, Raja Parikshit will be bitten by Takshaka and sent to Vaivasvata’s realm.’

  Shamika shook his head. ‘What he did was wrong. But what you do is wrong as well! He is a king and a kshatriya. It is the duty of such persons to protect brahmins like us. If they act rashly as he did, then we must somehow find the strength in our hearts to forgive him.’

  ‘But he acted against dharma too!’ Shringi cried. ‘He insulted a brahmin whom he ought to respect and protect!’

  ‘True. But one cannot wipe out one transgression with another. If a kshatriya fails in his dharma and does not protect a brahmin, if he insults one instead, then we must show ourselves greater than he, and forgive him his lapse. By violating our own dharma and seeking violence against him, we commit a greater crime!’ Shamika shook his head, upset with his son’s outburst. ‘You do not understand the full story. Parikshit was exhausted, near collapse, he had not eaten or drunk a drop of water, nor rested for who knows how long. His determination to finish off the deer and succeed at the hunt was his undoing. He had no idea I was under a maun-vrata. He thought I was the one being rude and insolent by not answering him. He thought it was my dharma to answer, to offer him food and water and shelter, as our king. Even if he acted wrongly, he did so out of exhaustion and while in an improper state of mind. You had no cause to issue such a terrible curse against him!’

  Shringi saw the point of his father’s argument at last. But he spread his hands in despair. ‘But father, there is nothing to be done now. Because I only speak the truth, my curse will be effective. I cannot stop it now, once spoken.’

  Shamika sat beside his son and pondered the matter with some gravity. ‘Very well then. I shall do what I can to try to mitigate it somehow. But, my son, I have some advice for you. There is a lesson to be learned from this incident and your reaction. Even though you are a grown man and are dedicated to your given varna, devoting your life to austerities and the gaining of knowledge, yet you have still much to learn. In this instance, you behaved not like a man but like an impetuous child! You must give up this anger, or it will destroy you one day. There is no use pursuing austerities and controlling your urges and desires for decades, if in a single moment you allow anger to overcome you. Anger is an emotional motivation, just like lust, greed, hunger, thirst. If you can control those others so perfectly, then you must learn to control your anger as well. A man who cannot control his anger is no different from a man who cannot control his lust, greed or other instincts. The only way to gain true maturity and progress as an ascetic is through peace and non-violence. Any action or word that causes, or permits to be caused, harm to other living creatures, is against dharma. There are no exceptions to this rule.’

  Shringi listened to his father’s words and asked, ‘But what does one do when someone commits such a transgression, insulting or humiliating oneself or one’s loved one?’

  Shamika put a hand gently on his son’s shoulder. ‘One forgives.’

  While Shringi considered what he had done and what his father had said, Shamika sent his disciple Gauramukha to Hastinapura. Obediently, Gauramukha travelled straight to the Kuru capital and requested an audience with the king. Raja Parikshit received him with full respect and honour. Enquiring after the king’s welfare as his guru had instructed, he then came to the real purpose of his visit. Acting on his guru’s orders, Gauramukha told the king, in the presence of his advisors, the history of the incident in the forest, ending with the curse spoken by Shringi son of Shamika and his guru’s instructions to himself.

  Listening to the disciple’s story, Raja Parikshit was overcome with remorse. Mortified at what he had done, he regretted how he had behaved with poor Shamika. Hearing that the old, feeble rishi had been under a vow of silence, he was overwhelmed with self- recrimination. He barely heard the disciple repeat the curse. To Raja Parikshit, all that mattered was that he had behaved unforgivably toward an innocent, old, impoverished and frail brahmin who had only been constrained by his own vow of silence. He thanked Gauramukha for his message and asked him to beseech his guru Shamika for his forgiveness, for he was deeply ashamed at his actions. Gauramukha informed the king that the guru had already forgiven him his error, and that was why he had sent his disciple here to warn Parikshit.

  After the disciple left, Parikshit sat in counsel with his ministers. Still focussed more on his own mistake than on the curse, he nevertheless understood that as king, he had a responsibility to his people and dependents. Acting on the advice of his counsellors, he had a palace be built overnight, standing on pillars to make it impossible for any snake to climb, with every entrance heavily guarded day and night. He placed brahmins, vaids and men of science around the palace to use warding off mantras, herbs and potions to dissuade any serpents from approaching. The moment the palace was constructed, Parikshit took up residence within it, surrounded by his protectors, and continued with his royal duties.

  The next six days passed uneventfully.

  On the seventh and last day, Sage Kashyapa was on his way to meet the king. As he was a brahmin possessed of great knowledge of various sciences, he had been summoned. His special knowledge lay in the preparation of antidotes to snake venom. It was his given mission to ensure that in the event that Raja Parikshit was bitten by a snake, he would be on hand to adminster an antidote to counter the venom at once. Aware of this, Takshaka, king of snakes, assumed the form of a brahmin and appeared before Kashyapa on the road. ‘Where do you go in such a great rush? What task is so urgent to make you travel so quickly?’ asked the old brahmin. Kashyapa replied politely, ‘Good brahmin, today is the last day of Raja Parikshit’s curse. If Takshaka, king of snakes, does succeed in biting the king, I will administer an antidote to his venom. It took me these many days to prepare the perfect antidote. Now that it is ready, I must rush to the king’s palace to be present in case the serpent lord succeeds in his endeavour.’

  Takshaka then laughed and revealed his true form. ‘Kashyapa, look upon me now! I am that same Takshaka you speak of. Turn back now. Once I bite someone, he can never be saved. Your mission is useless.’

  Kashyapa did not flinch or blanch before the king of snakes, not even when Takshaka enlarged himself to his full size and towered menacingly over him, swaying proudly. ‘You may believe that to be true, Naga. But I have fai
th in my own scientific knowledge as well. I am certain I can cure the king of your bite—if you are able to bite him at all.’

  Infuriated by Kashyapa’s response, Takshaka hissed and dripped venom, showing his long fangs. He indicated a very large and old fig tree nearby. ‘Do you see this fig tree, brahmin? It has existed here for hundreds of years. Yet I can wither it in moments with the toxin from my venom, destroying it as swiftly as fire itself would consume the wood! Even your great knowledge cannot save it then!’