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

by Ashok K. Banker

  On one occasion, Girika adjudged that the time was perfect for her to conceive. Desiring to make love to her husband, she sent for him urgently. Uparichara Vasu received the missive and at once knew what his wife desired him to do. He was most eager to go home to indulge his wife, but he was required to hunt deer to appease his ancestors first. Even while he was on the hunt, his thoughts turned constantly back to his wife, as beautiful as Sri herself, waiting eagerly for him to come home and please her. Deep in the jungle, he was overcome by his desire and spilled his seed in the forest. Not wishing to let his semen go waste, he collected it in a leaf. Now that the semen had been discharged, it occurred to him that if he could not go home to make love to his wife, he could at the very least send home his semen that she might conceive from it. A knowledgeable man, he saw a hawk perched on a branch nearby and addressed the bird in its own language. ‘Amiable friend, do me this great favour. Take my semen home to my wife Girika. She is in season now and dearly desires a child.’ The hawk consented and flew off with the rolled leaf containing Uparichara Vasu’s semen clutched firmly in his claw.

  While the hawk was flying, another hawk saw it and misjudged what it was carrying. Mistakenly assuming it was meat, the second hawk flew at him, demanding a share. The two hawks fought and in the struggle, the first hawk dropped Vasu’s semen which fell into the waters of the river Yamuna. An apsara named Adrika had been cursed to live as a fish in the river and she happened to be looking up when the hawk dropped the leaf containing the semen. In a trice, Adrika swallowed the semen before it could be spilled into the river for she knew that it would be her salvation. She conceived from the seed of Vasu and in time her womb grew heavy with twin human children. But she was still a fish, and when she was in her tenth month, she was caught in a fisherman’s net. When she was cut open, the fisherman found the human twins, perfectly formed and beautiful in every respect but one: they smelled exactly like fish. The fish which had been cut open sighed with relief as she turned back into her true form. Adrika had been promised by Brahma that the day she gave birth to two human children, she would be freed from her curse. She died happily, rising up to heaven in the footsteps of siddhas, rishis and charanas.

  Marvelling at this miracle, the fisherman took the babies to the king who was delighted and accepted the male child of the pair, permitting the fisherman to keep the female. The male child became Vasu’s fifth son who came to be better known as Matsya because of his birth from a fish. The girl child born of Adrika from Vasu’s semen grew up to be Kali, whom the fishermen later called Satyavati. Pitch-black in colour and beautiful in every other aspect as well, she was much admired and loved by everyone. Her only drawback was that she smelled constantly of fish. When she grew old enough to do her own chores, she began to ply a boat on the river Yamuna to help her father. In time, she became a familiar sight ferrying travellers across the river and back in her rowboat. She often sang the songs of the fisherfolk as she rowed, her sweet voice charming even the fish in the river.

  One day, the great sage Parashara started on a pilgrimage. Coming to the river Yamuna, he boarded Satyavati’s boat in order to cross to the other side. While in the boat, he was drawn to Satyavati’s extraordinary beauty. Overcome by lust, the sage could think of nothing else but the urge to make love to her. Satyavati grew aware of the sage’s desire and was flattered that such a great rishi desired her. But there were many other brahmins in sight, on both banks of the river. Surely they could not engage in intercourse in full view of them all? Undaunted, Rishi Parashara summoned up a dense fog, so dark and impenetrable that the entire river was shrouded in pitch darkness. Surprised and realizing that she could not refuse the rishi’s advances, Satyavati was overcome with shyness. ‘Mahadev,’ she pleaded, ‘I am the virginal daughter of a humble fisherman. If you commit this act with me, with what face will I go home to my father’s house? I will never be able to live among my people again, nor will they forgive me this lapse. I beg of you, consider my situation.’

  Parashara was a powerful brahmin possessed of great abilities. ‘Beautiful Kali, what you say is true. I will ensure that your reputation is not sullied. Even if you conceive from our union, yet you shall remain a virgin, and your child shall be birthed within this very day and grow instantly to manhood, so that none may ever suspect that you engaged in intercourse with me. In time, you may marry any man of your father’s choosing with a clear conscience for you have my word that you will be as pure and unsullied as any untouched virgin. What is more, in exchange for granting me my desire, ask me for any boon and I shall grant it.’

  Still modest and shy, Satyavati could think only of the perpetual smell of fish that always clung about her, dissuading all potential suitors. ‘Dispel my malodour, lord. I ask nothing more.’

  ‘So be it,’ Parashara said.

  Then, under cover of the dark fog he had conjured, the rishi engaged in an immensely pleasurable union with Satyavati in the boat. After his pleasure was spent, the rishi dispelled the fog, was rowed to the far bank, and continued on his way. The instant she was touched by the rishi, Satyavati’s fish smell disappeared completely and was replaced by a natural floral odour so sweet and redolent that henceforth, she was known by the name of Gandhavati, or even Yojanagandha on account of the fact that her enticing scent could be smelled from as far as a full yojana away. From their union, she instantly conceived a child and her belly grew heavy with growth within moments. Rowing herself to a deserted island in the middle of the river, she climbed ashore just in time to deliver the baby. Though it emerged newborn, within moments, before her astonished eyes, it grew to become a full-grown man, as dark in aspect as herself. What he lacked in beauty, her son gained richly in knowledge and wisdom. She named him Krishna for his black skin, Dweipayana for being born on an island and in time, through his dedicated efforts and genius, he came to divide the great Book of Knowledge, the Veda, into four distinct parts, earning himself the additional title of Vyasa. Thus was Krishna Dweipayana Vyasa born, composer of the great epic the Mahabharata, forebear of the Kauravas and Pandavas, witness to the great conflict that destroyed the Kuru line and left countless millions dead. On gaining full manhood, scant hours after his birth, and after his mother’s conception through Parashara, Krishna Dweipayana stood before his mother clad in garments she had given him, and joined his palms before her. ‘Maatr, I wish to dedicate myself to a life of ascetism and study. Grant me leave to do so.’ Satyavati was overcome with emotion by the suddenness of events, but her own unusual origins and ancestry made her stronger and more accepting of such things than most persons. She was proud of her tall and impressive son. His intelligence glowed from his eyes and face and she felt certain he would go on to achieve great things in life. She felt a pang of regret that she had not the opportunity to raise him as her son, and share in his life, but nonetheless she felt great love and affection toward him. ‘Go with my blessing, son. Do as you see fit, live long and prosper.’ At his mother’s words, Krishna Dweipayana bowed long and low. ‘Maatr, at any time if you have need of me, you need but think of me and I shall arrive before you instantly. Whatever the purpose, do not hesitate to call on me.’ Satyavati understood then that despite the strangeness of the conception and his birth, the bond between her son and herself was a powerful one ordained by great forces and served some higher purpose that she could not fathom at that time. She wished him well and he went on his way. She climbed aboard the rowboat and rowed herself back to the far bank where already passengers waited to be ferried across the Yamuna. The day had not yet ended and she had work to do.

  ||Three||

  Janamajaya then asked Vyasa, ‘Gurudev, I know that you are my great-grandfather and engendered the present line of Kuru kings. I would hear the full account of how that came to pass as well as the history of the great Maha Bharata war between my ancestors. But first answer this question that troubles me. These were all great warriors, perhaps the greatest that ever lived on earth. Yet I have heard that the brahmin P
arashurama had embarked on a campaign of vengeance and cleansed the earth of all kshatriyas. Not once did he massacre the warriors but thrice seven times! How did the warrior varna arise again if all those born of that caste had been extinguished? How did the four varnas regain their normal structure and things come to be as they are today? Most of all, how was it that even after Parashurama’s genocide, such great warriors arose again as were present at the time of the Maha Bharata war? Surely there was some higher purpose served by this phenomenon? What was the real reason behind the revival of the kshatriya class and the rise of a new breed of great warriors?’

  Vyasa instructed his disciple to answer the king. Vaisampayana said, ‘O King, the questions you ask are great ones that even most gods would be hard pressed to answer correctly. Yet my great preceptor in his infinite wisdom has included the answer in this seminal epic of our Bharata nation. Listen now.’

  ||Four||

  Twenty-one times in all did Jamadagni’s son Rama of the Axe wipe out every last kshatriya on earth. Finally, when his task was done, he retired to the peak of Mount Mahendra where he meditated for an untold length of time. The world was quiet and peaceful, with every warrior gone and none left to wage war or inflict violence.

  But the widows of countless kshatriyas remained, childless and husbandless. Bereft and grieving, these proud women had accepted the loss of their menfolk, but still desired to bear children that their line might continue. Since no men of their varna remained and since it was by a brahmin’s hand that their men had died, they came therefore to the brahmins, asking them to seed their wombs and engender progeny. The brahmins consented but were rigid in their vows and austerities and could not relinquish them to husband the kshatriya women. They agreed to have intercourse with them only at their time of fertility, to fill their wombs, not to satiate lust or desire. This was a firm rule of the brahmins and under no circumstances would they copulate with the kshatriya women other than for the purpose of creating offspring, nor when they were out of season. With this condition, the brahmins of the world fathered upon the widowed kshatriya women thousands upon thousands of offspring, male as well as female, for the vengeance of Parashurama had been sated, and it was deemed acceptable for the kshatriya race to flourish once more. Thus, the present kshatriya race originated from kshatriya women and brahmin men, bringing about a balance of qualities.

  The new generation of kshatriya children were equitable and filled with the best of both their parent varnas. They were righteous in dharma and never resorted to violence without just cause or reason, and also engaged in the pursuit of knowledge. The world flourished. The four varnas lived in perfect harmony with one another. Following the example of their brahmin fathers, even the kshatriyas engaged in copulation only with their wives, and only when they were in season, and did not succumb to lust impulsively. All four varnas did the same, and influenced by the dharma of mortals, even the non-human denizens of the world followed the same path. By adhering to dharma in every respect, all creatures of the world lived long and prospered. Humankind was free of all disease and experienced no calamities. The earth showered them with blessings and did not cause calamities such as earthquakes, floods, and other natural disasters. All beings lived free of anger, lust, covetousness, and were swift to mete out righteous justice to those who transgressed against their fellows. The population of the earth swelled to enormous proportions and great civilizations and cities flourished everywhere, with people occupying even the highest mountains, the remotest valleys, the deepest forests, even the boundaries of the ocean. People lived for hundreds and thousands of years. Kshatriyas governed the earth and protected all, including the brahmins. Kings and rulers of men were free from avarice, greed or lust, and governed wisely and justly. Their subjects prospered and profited and nobody wanted for anything. No children died. No man or woman engaged in coition before they had attained maturity. The kshatriyas performed great sacrifices and presented alms liberally. Brahmins were free to spend their lives studying the Vedas, Vedangas and Upanishads. No brahmin ever sold his knowledge for money or personal gain. Brahmins retained their knowledge with proprietorial pride, never once reciting their Vedic knowledge in the presence of sudras, who lived blissfully unconcerned with the higher state of knowledge. Vaishyas engaged in farming and tilling the earth with the willing aid of cattle. They did not need to yoke cows to ploughs or force any beast to bear burden, for those that helped them did so willingly. Those that were too frail, old or sick and thin to work were allowed to rest and were well cared for. Cows were never milked during their period of nursing and calves were free to drink as much as they pleased. No merchant tipped his scales or used wrong weights or cheated people. Everyone performed their given tasks and took pleasure in them, births occurred naturally and always at the right time, trees bore flowers and fruit in the right season, and all was paradisiacal on earth. This was the golden age of Krita Yuga.

  But even in this age of plenty there arose a dark spectre. During the time that the kshatriyas were absent from the world, the asuras had seized their opportunity to regain their advantage. This time, the sons of Diti were shrewd and did not attempt to proliferate in the heavenly realms where their increase in numbers would be noted by their arch enemies, the devas. Instead, they took birth on earth, in the royal dynasties of mortals, and as a variety of different beings—cows, horses, asses, camels, buffaloes, predatory creatures, elephants, deer. So great were the number of beasts and mortals on earth then, and so long were their lifespans and few their deaths, that the earth herself laboured to provide for her children. Some of Diti’s and Danu’s children grew up as the offspring of royals at this time, taking advantage of their positions to raise armies and force conflicts. With the earth populated from shore to shore, every step they took encroached on someone’s domain, and once begun, a sequence of conflicts was easy to maintain and escalate. Malevolently, they set out to invade, conquer and attack without provocation or need, oppressing people everywhere. They did not discriminate between varnas—brahmins, kshatriyas, vaishyas, sudras, they terrorized all people equally, as well as other living creatures. Roaming the earth in great numbers, they violated dharma at every opportunity, persecuted even the highest maharishis in their own ashrams and gurukuls, and indulged in sickening displays of violent subjugation. Then the golden age turned to ashes and blood as the misdeeds of the asuras exceeded all bounds and they embarked on a campaign of butchery and genocide. Even the elements of the earth, the wind, the rain, the mountains, the great Shesha Naga upon whose coils the world rested, could not bear this slaughter and injustice and trembled with unhappiness.

  Stricken by the cries and laments of innocent mortals, the devas appealed to mighty Brahma. Great was the congregation that thronged Brahmaloka. Devas, brahmins, maharishis, gandharvas, apsaras, all began to chant and sing and recite their woes. Then Prithvi Maa, the goddess that was Earth herself, appeared before the celestial court and wept for her children. Brahma, the all- knowing, all-seeing, already knew of the woes they suffered. How could he not know? But he heard each complaint patiently and sympathetically.

  Then the great Creator who is also Prajapati, Isa, and Shambhu, and lord of the world entire, addressed the goddess Prithvi Maa. ‘O Vasundhara,’ he said, for that was another of her names. ‘It is clear that the asuras have taken the war against us to the mortal realm. Because they could no longer hope to triumph against us here in the heavenly realms, so they have descended to terrorize the innocent earthlings. Under these circumstances, there is only one recourse. We devas must also descend to earth in suitable forms, amsas and avataras, and join in conflict with them, halting their reign of terror. To avoid their learning whom we choose to become on earth, whether as a disguise, an altered form, or a partial or full incarnation, we shall each choose our own manner of descent and appear on earth to pursue individual agendas and campaigns of war against them. Choose your time and place and form and descend. Let us take the war to their doorstep now! Live long and
triumph!’

  Indra and all the devas were pleased with Brahma’s proposal. They left Brahmaloka excited and impatient to begin the new campaign against the asuras at once. But before they embarked on that venture, they visited Vaikuntha, the celestial abode of Narayana. There they were received warmly by that Wielder of the Chakra and the Gada, dressed in his trademark yellow, his personage glowing radiantly, a lotus blooming from his navel and his eyes soft, wide and sloped downwards and mesmerizing to behold. Bowing before him, they announced that as the greatest of them all, it was only fitting that he should be the first to incarnate on earth. They would then follow and do their respective tasks. Hari smiled and raised his open palm in acceptance and declared that it would be as they asked.

  Thus, the stage was set for the greatest conflict of all between the gods and the races of demons.

  ||Paksha Eight||

  ANSHAVATARNA

  ||One||

  Then began the campaign of the devas versus the asuras, a war so terrible and far-reaching in its consequences that some believe that even today all mortal conflict stems from that primal enmity.

  These are the accounts of the births of devas, danavas, gandharvas, apsaras, mortals, yakshas, rakshasas, and other beings. Anshavatarana: a record of the reincarnations.