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

by Ashok K. Banker

  ||Twenty||

  After her husband had departed, Jaratkaru went to her brother Vasuki and told him what had transpired. He listened sombrely and when he heard the tone of sorrow and anguish in his sister’s voice, his heart grew sorrowful as well. He comforted her as best as he could, saying, ‘I feel your grief, sister. But you are truly bhagyavan. For you have accomplished the task you were set to accomplish. You have succeeded in conceiving a son who will be our saviour and salvation. Your husband is a proud and virtuous man and I regret his leaving you thus. But his very pride and austerity mean that he has told the absolute truth. The child within your womb is indeed the one we desire. He would never lie about anything and this means that your son will someday save our entire species. Rejoice in that knowledge and whatever else you desire, I shall bring to you for your pleasure.’

  So saying, the king of snakes showered his sister with kindness, praise, love and gifts. He ensured that she was as happy as was possible under the circumstances and that the child within her grew healthy and strong. In time, she gave birth and as promised, her offspring was a son, radiant and perfect in all respects. He grew up in the house of the king of snakes and studied the Vedas and Vedangas under the tutelage of Chyavana, son of Bhrigu. Even as a child, he was disciplined and exact in his actions and words, gifted with great intelligence, spiritual strength and numerous other fine qualities. His mother named him Astika after his father’s last word, ‘asti’ which meant literally ‘it is there’. And so Astika, son of Jaratkaru and Jaratkaru, grew up to be a rishi of shining virtue, as noble as the illustrious Lord Shulapati himself, Shiva, the bearer of the sacred trishul.

  ||Twenty-one||

  Around the time that Astika was born and began his journey towards manhood in Vasuki’s house, the Kuru king Janamajaya learned for the first time the full story of his father’s demise. Because he desired to know every detail that led to Parikshit’s tragic end and the reason for the sarpa satra that he himself was conducting, his advisors told him everything.

  Parikshit was a well-beloved king known for his fairness and honesty in all matters. He did not distinguish between the varnas and treated vaishyas, sudras, kshatriyas and brahmins alike, caring for all who needed his help, meting out justice where required, extending the state’s support to widows, orphans, disabled and poor, and abiding by dharma in everything he said and did. In appearance, he was a handsome man, often described as another moon in his lustre and charm. A shishya of Guru Sharadvata, he mastered the science of war and weaponry as expounded in the Dhanur Veda. He did everything possible to uphold the honour of his dynasty and further the reputation of the Kuru race.

  For he was an emblem of hope to a troubled Kuru nation. After the genocide that was the Maha Bharata war, the sole survivor in the Kuru line was the male child in the womb of Uttara, wife of Abhimanyu. After the war was over and Uttara gave birth, the world hailed the last of the Kuru line. In acknowledgement of the weakening of the once-great dynasty and the dwindling of its number to this solitary heir, the boy came to be known as Parikshit after the Sanskrit word Parikshina, or emaciation. Keenly aware that the hopes of an entire nation and the future of a dynasty rested on his slender shoulders, young Parikshit worked constantly to build up those shoulders so they could carry the great burden of history forward. It was said of him that he conquered the six vices that plague mortal men—kama, krodha, lobha, mada, moha and matsarya. In other words, desire, anger, greed, ego, self-delusion and envy. For sixty years he ruled Hastinapura wisely as a king. But despite all his efforts, he was undone by a single act of pique, committed in a moment of exhaustion and deprivation-fuelled anger. The moment he placed the dead snake upon the shoulders of the sage Shamika, his doom was sealed. Thus was another great son of the Kuru dynasty cut down before his time through tragic circumstances.

  After extolling the virtues of Parikshit and lamenting his premature demise, the king’s advisors told Janamajaya everything that transpired after his father went on the deer hunt, leaving no detail unsaid. While they were speaking, Janamajaya was troubled by a question: How did they come to know of the encounter between Sage Kashyapa and Takshaka on the road to Hastinapura? Was it from the lips of Kashyapa himself? For surely Takshaka never stayed to boast of the whole tale? They explained that the account had been related by a man, an ordinary citizen who had climbed a large and ancient fig tree, to break off dry twigs that could be used as kindling. Concealed by the profuse branches and leaves, he went unnoticed by both the snake king and the rishi. When Takshaka destroyed the tree with his venom, the poor man was killed as well, poisoned by the fiery venom through contact with the branch on which he sat. He was then revived through Kashyapa’s power and herbs, again through contact with the same branch on which his corpse still lay. Terrified of being seen by the snake king, he remained in the tree long after both he and the brahmin had left the spot. When he returned to the city that night, he heard the news of the king’s demise and immediately knew what had happened. He came forward and bore witness to the incident, and thus it was included in the history of Janamajaya’s dynasty. Thus are the histories of kings founded upon the testimonies of countless nameless witnesses.

  After listening to the entire tale, and learning of the awful, needless death that befell his father, Janamajaya was overcome by grief. A young boy when his father died, he had possessed little understanding of the event at the time and the ministers had deemed him too innocent to know the full story. Now, he finally knew everything, he resolved not to rest until every last snake in the world was destroyed. But most of all, he sought to kill Takshaka himself, along with his closest brethren and kin. Thus, the sarpa satra of Janamajaya was undertaken with great vehemence and intensity.

  One small incident occurred at the outset of the sacrifice which in hindsight proved to have great significance: A suta who was also wise in vaastu shastra, and in the building and architecture of structures and sites, examined the plot of land measured out and marked by the brahmins and purohits for the sacrifice and warned them that the site on which they meant to perform the yagna was such that it indicated that the sacrifice would not be completed and that a brahmin would be the cause of this non-completion. Janamajaya heard of this man’s warning and installed strict security measures, ensuring that nobody except the authorized priests and attendants could enter the yagna site without his permission. This was the reason why Sarama’s son was beaten off so brutally by the king’s brothers, who were overseeing the task at the time.

  As the sarpa satra gained momentum, the time approached for the yagna’s accumulated power to draw in the beings targetted for extinction.

  The hotar of the yagna was the brahmin Chandabhargava, a descendant of Chyavana in the Bhrigu line. It was his job to recite the mantras. The udgatar or priest who recited and sang along was a wise old brahmin named Kautsarya Jaimini. Bodhapingala was the adhvaryu, the officiating priest of ceremonies. And Sharngarava was the chief priest. The main sadasya or resident of the ceremony was the illustrious Krishna Dweipayana Vyasa himself, along with his sons and disciples Uddalaka, Shamathaka, Shvetaketu, Panchama, Asita, Devala, Narada, Parvata, Atreya, Kundajathara, and the senior brahmins Kutighata, Vatsya, Shrutashrava the old scholar, Kahoda, Devasharma, Maudgalya and Samasaurabha. Apart from these main priests there were many other reputed brahmins who also attended as sadasyas at the great sacrifice.

  As the energies of the ritual increased in potency, snakes began to be drawn from all corners of the earth. From far and wide they were sucked into the vortex of brahman energy created by the sacred ritual. On and on the priests chanted their mantras and poured great quantities of ghee into the satra agni, resolute in their vows and intent in their purpose. One by one the snakes were summoned against their will, compelled to come flying through the air, up into the sky, thence to fall directly into the sacrificial fire. As the chanting increased in intensity, and the oblations were poured in greater quantity, the fire roared higher and louder, filling the air w
ith Agni’s bellow. The heat was tremendous as was the height of the flames. The tongues of Agni reached up as if they would scorch the bellies of the clouds themselves. And down came the snakes in a never-ending torrent, until they appeared to descend like a waterfall that melted instantly in the heat of the yagna fire. The great square tank of the yagna began to fill with the fat and marrow of the snakes, crackling and spitting and hissing like a nest of serpents. It was impossible to tell if the sounds that emerged were from snakes that suffered as they were burned to death or merely from the fluids they turned into after they were dead. Either way, the sounds were horrible to hear. The stench would have been too great to tolerate but for the oblations the priests poured into the fire in copious quantities.

  Down fell the torrent of snakes, never-ending and relentless, to be consumed instantly by the ravenous mouth of Agni.

  Never before or since that time have so many snakes been seen by human eyes. There were snakes of every hue, length, thickness and description. There were two-headed snakes, five-headed snakes and seven-headed snakes. There were snakes a full yojana in length, and there were snakes twice as long. Of Vasuki’s lineage, many great snakes, their bodies red, white and blue and filled with virulent venom, died: Kotika, Manasa, Purna, Saha, Paila, Halisaka, Picchila, Konapa, Chakra, Konavega, Prakalana, Hiranyavaha, Sharana, Kakshaka, Kaladanta. Of Takshaka’s bloodline, Pucchandaka, Mandalaka, Pindabhetta, Rabhenaka, Ucchikha, Surasa, Dranga, Balaheda, Virohana, Shili, Shalakara, Muka,

  Sukumara, Pravepana, Mudgara, Shasharoma, Sumana and Vegavahana perished in that yagna.

  Of Airavata’s lineage, Paravata, Pariyatra, Pandara, Harina, Krisha, Vihanga, Sharabha, Moda, Pramoda, Samhatangada died. Of the Kaurava line Aindila, Kundala, Mundo, Veni, Skandha, Kumaraka, Bhuka, Shringavega, Dhurtaka, Pata and Patara were the casualties.

  Of the line of Dhritarashtra were Shankukarna, Pingalaka, Kutharamukha, Mechaka, Purnangada, Purnamukha, Prahasa, Shakuni, Hari, Amahatha, Komathaka, Shvasana, Manava, Vata, Bhairava, Mundavedanga, Pishanga, Udraparaga, Rishabha, Vegavana, Pindaraka, Mahahanu, Raktanga, Sarvasaranga, Samriddha, Pata, Rakshasa, Varahaka, Varanaka, Sumitra, Chitravedika, Parashara, Tarunaka, Maniskandha and Aruni.

  Thousands upon thousands perished. Then hundreds of thousands. Then millions. Then tens of millions. And still the rain of snakes continued unabated, pouring from the sky into the heart of the fire, where each snake died at once, scorched to ashes by the supernatural power of the yagna fire.

  Afraid now for his own well-being, King Takshaka of the Nagas rushed to Indraloka, the heavenly abode of Lord Indra, king of the devas. Standing before Purandara, he tearfully confessed all his transgressions and begged the great one for protection. Indra smiled at the unexpected sight of Takshaka begging for mercy, and assured the snake king that his fate had already been decided. Both Brahma and Indra had conferred on the matter and it was clear that Takshaka was not going to perish in the yagna of Janamajaya. Takshaka was greatly relieved but asked for sanctuary until the yagna was ended. Indra granted him leave to stay in his own palace so that he might not be drawn into the fire.

  Meanwhile, Vasuki was experiencing the effects of the sarpa satra. Yet, unlike his brother Takshaka, Vasuki was more concerned over the millions of snakes that were being slain by the yagna than with his own survival. ‘At this rate,’ he thought, distressed, ‘our entire species will be extinguished.’ Appealing to his sister Jaratkaru who still lived in Vasuki’s house with her son, he pleaded, ‘Now is the time of which we were warned. That terrible day of doom has arrived at last. Now that it is here, I have lost all strength to resist. I myself feel the powerful pull of the mantras chanted by Janamajaya’s priests. It requires all my strength to keep from being pulled to the fire myself! I can barely stand erect, my senses are in turmoil, my vision blurs, my heart pounds as if about to burst, and I cannot control the direction of my movements. Soon, I fear, I too will be drawn to my destruction. If I, a king of snakes, cannot resist, then imagine the plight of my fellow Nagas! Surely they will all be destroyed in no time at all now. We have only one chance of survival. This is the very reason why we gave you to the yayavara in marriage. Sister mine, you alone can ensure the survival of our species now. Brahma himself has prophesied that your son Astika will halt this sacrifice and save us all. Now is the time to put his words into action. Go seek out your son and send him to undertake this task for the sake of the survival of his own kind.’

  Jaratkaru left her brother in this state of anxiety and hurried to find her son. She took him aside and told him the story of his birth in full detail and the purpose for which he had been created. Astika listened solemnly to the extraordinary history of his family and when his mother was done, he bowed before her and took her blessings before undertaking his given task. Vasuki came out and was relieved to see his nephew prepare to depart on his journey.

  Astika addressed his uncle, although his words were intended for his own mother as well. ‘I shall ensure the survival of our species. I shall go to the site of Raja Janamajaya’s sarpa satra at once and stop it. This I promise.’

  Saying this, Astika left and set out for Samantapanchaka.

  ||Twenty-two||

  Astika arrived at the site of the sacrifice and was awed by the scale of the event. A vast area of the plain had been taken over for the yagna, with literally hundreds of priests officiating and thousands of ritvijas assisting in the numerous tasks, all clad in sombre black as befitted the nature of the sacrifice. And in the centre of that vast theatre of activity was the enormous square where the sacred fire burned. He could hear its roar all the way here, where he stood, hundreds of yards away, and feel its heat. And from the sky, descending out of apparently nowhere, the torrent of snakes rushing down to be consumed by the fire, the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed in his brief youthful life. He watched in morbid fascination as the morass of writhing, screaming snakes poured down continuously like water from a pipe, dissolving instantly in the tremendous supernatural and physical heat of the sacred flames. Resolved to do as he was meant, he moved towards the fire, knowing that the king would surely be close to the sacrificial Agni. By dint of his being a brahmin, he managed to come within hearing distance of the king himself. Several burly guards barred his way, preventing him from going further. Seeing Janamajaya just ahead, he immediately began singing the praises of Parikshit’s son.

  ‘I come to praise Janamajaya, son of Parikshit, best of the Bharatas! In ancient times, many great sacrifices were held in Prayaga by Soma, Varuna and Prajapati. The sarpa satra of Janamajaya ranks among those great sacrifices! This great event is equivalent to the hundred sacrifices performed by Indra. It is equal in greatness to those conducted by Yama, Harimedha and Raja Rantideva. It also measures up to the rituals performed by Gaya, Raja Shashabindu and Raja Vaishravana. I compare it to the rites of Nriga, Ajamida and Dasaratha-putra Rama Chandra himself! There I see Satyavati’s son Krishna Dweipayana, which is fitting because this great event compares favourably even when matched against the one conducted earlier by Vyasa. Is there a ritvija in all the worlds who can compare to Krishna Dweipayana? Even his disciples are great ritvijas, constantly in demand to perform yagnas! The scale and size and success shall be historic. Agni appears to rival even the mighty sun himself, earning the title of Vibhavasu and the title of Chitrabhanu, displays a golden heart of perfect purity, points his head due south and exudes great clouds of black smoke— all auspicious signs! Raja Janamajaya, you impress me with your achievement and persistence. Truly, you are no less than Varuna, or Dharmaraja Yama, or vajra-wielder Shakra in your influence. In your qualities, you are like Khatvanga, Nabhaga and Dilipa. In your power you are like Yayati and Mandhata. In your splendour you are the sun incarnate. In the rigidity of your vows, you are Bhishma. In your eloquence and sophistication you are Valmiki. In your self-control you are Vashishta. In your sovereignity, you are Indra. In your radiance you are Narayana. In your adherence to dharma you are Yama. You are Krishna. You
are the vasus. You are the place where Lakshmi dwells. You are the epitome of all sacrifices. In your strength you are Dambhodbhava. In your prowess at arms you are Parashurama. In your energy, you are Ourva and Trita. In your awe-inspiring appearance you are Bhagiratha.’

  When Astika continued to praise Janamajaya and the other priests officiating at the ceremony with such passionate eloquence, they were charmed and pleased.

  Deferring to the brahmins, Janamajaya said, ‘This is but a child, yet he speaks as eloquently as a wise old sage. I am impressed by his eloquence. Grant me permission to have him brought before me that I may reward him for his talent.’

  The sadasyas replied, ‘Certainly, for any learned one deserves the praise of kings, though he be but a child. But you must wait until we have accomplished the chief goal of this sacrifice. Once your father’s assassin, Takshaka, is summoned here to die in this sacrificial fire, you may do as you please. Until then, all our energies must be focussed on bringing the lord of snakes down.’

  Through all this, Astika continued his chant of praises without pause. For hours on end, he stood reciting beautiful shlokas praising Janamajaya, the brahmins, the sacrificial fire, the line of the Kurus, the Bharata race . . . his eloquence and innocence were irresistible. Time and again, Janamajaya’s heart went out to him, and he was eager to thank the boy and bid him join him in the sacrifice. But each time he tried to summon the boy, the brahmins surrounding him objected. Finally, he tried to catch the boy’s attention and summon him directly. Seeing this, hotar Chandabhargava said severely, ‘Raje? Have you forgotten what we discussed? Until Takshaka is destroyed, all our attention and energies must be focussed solely on this sacrifice. This is an immense task that demands every ounce of our ability.’ Janamajaya, distracted by the continual chanting of the brahmin boy, replied, ‘In that case, let us bring Takshaka here now and destroy him at once. Why delay?’ At that moment, the hotar was compelled to continue his ritual chanting and did so, glaring disapprovingly at Janamajaya. The ritvijas spoke up then: ‘O King, we have done all that we could to summon Takshaka to the fire but he has taken refuge in Indra’s palace. Even our best efforts are unable to pry him loose from that sanctuary.’ The suta Lohitaksha was present and he confirmed what the brahmins said, ‘It is so. The shastras confirm this fact. Indra has granted Takshaka sanctuary in his own house. This fire can no longer burn that king of snakes.’ Hearing this, Janamajaya forgot about the brahmin boy and his chanting and grew angry at Takshaka once again. Determined to avenge his father’s cruel death, he resumed his own part in the satra and dedicated himself to chanting along with the brahmins and pouring oblations into the fire to add his own soul’s strength to the effort. Then the intensity of the fire grew even greater and the torrent of snakes increased to a blurring downpour. The earth grew depleted of every crawling snake and serpent and even the depths of the ocean yielded up their kin, all to perish in the inexorable fire of the great yagna of Janamajaya.