by Vic DiCara
Varuṇa knew the power and strength of flowing water, a force that simply could not be restrained for long. He knew Āpas would soon escape by her own strength, and the situation would resolve itself.
However Varuṇa’s patience was not shared by his brother, the rain god. Unable to function at all in the face of Vṛtra’s mischief, this rain god strode forth in anger to make war against the dragon.
His power was completely ineffective, and Varuṇa and Agni, the fire god held him back and forced him to desist.
“The dragon’s fire cannot hold back the power of water forever,” Agni advised.
“No power can contain water for long. Be patient,” Varuṇa added, “this is a battle you cannot win.”
The rain god desisted from his attack, but persisted with his politics - constantly petitioning Varuṇa to change his stance on the issue. “If we don’t do something right now to release Āpas from Vṛtra’s grasp, the worlds will wither and die in drought… and so shall we!”
Eventually, Varuṇa agreed, and supported an attack on Vṛtra. With his help the rain god’s thunderbolts could defeat Vṛtra, and release the waters in a downpour from the sky. The rushing floods carved new riverbeds on their course back into the oceans, and the lands became green and prosperous once again.
The Power of Allies (Pūrvāṣāḍhā & Āpas)
What we learn about Āpas from this tale is that she is unstoppably powerful. With great respect for her power, Varuṇa and Agni both knew that she would eventually be able to liberate herself from her captivity. However, in this tale we also learn that much of her power comes from how many allies she has. So many different beings all depend on her and cannot survive without her, and they all must eventually come to her aid.
The specific figures involved in the story of Āpas’ kidnapping are not fanciful at all. Varuṇa is the Ocean, and Agni is heat. Heat evaporates water from the ocean and transforms it into clouds. Since the ocean and heat aid in taking water up to the sky, it is understandable that Varuṇa and Agni were initially sympathetic to Vṛtra, who sought to keep all the waters locked up in the highest frozen clouds.
It is also natural that the rain god would be the most disturbed by abduction of water, and therefore be the first to liberate Āpas from the clouds, and would do so with a thunderbolt - a severe thunderstorm that can transform even frozen clouds into monsoon rains.
The Sharpest Blade (Kṛttikā & Agni)
From this primordial tale, we also learn something essential about Agni. The fire god’s ability to evaporate water from the ocean demonstrates fire fundamental nature: to separate energy from its possessor.
Fire has four primary forms, all of which exhibit this separative property in their own way. In its conventional form, fire separates the energy from materials like wood, leaving only ash. In its biological form (digestive enzymes), fire separates the energy from food, leaving only waste for excrement. In its highest form (intellectual “brightness”, the “light” of consciousness), fire digests the meaning of words and symbols - isolating and freeing the content from its sonic or symbolic structures.
It is, however, the celestial form of fire which is most relevant to the tale of Vṛtra. In this form, as the sunlight, fire first separates water from the ocean bringing it to the clouds, but thereafter, as lightning, separates that water from the clouds and sends it to the earth to form rivers which take it back to the ocean. This reveals how natural it is that Agni would help Vṛtra at first, but later work against him.
In fact, if we think about it carefully, we will see that it was not exactly the rain god who liberated Āpas from the frozen clouds, it was Agni it is electrical form, used by the rain god in the form of a thunderbolt. As the thunderbolt is the supreme blade, Agni, in all his forms, is “kṛttika” - the great cutter, the great separator.
Politics in Paradise (Jyeṣṭhā & Indra)
The rain god was a man of passionate ambition to grow, expand, and be the very best (“Jyeṣṭha”). When he returned from the successful defeat of Vṛtra, he saw his golden opportunity arise.
“If Varuṇa is truly fit to be our leader,” he whispered amongst the gods, “why did I have to be the one to convince him to rescue Āpas? What made him hesitate? Was he afraid of the dragon? Or is he partial to that mischievous species? And which of these would be worse? If he was not afraid, and truly is the strongest amongst us, why did I have to be the one to remove Vṛtra’s head with my thunderbolt? And if he is not partial to the dragon, why did he interfere with my first attempt to do away with that miscreant snake?”
As he won gods over to his side, the rain god’s whispering gradually became more and more persuasive, more and more bold. Eventually all of the gods, even Agni was convinced that Varuṇa was unfit to rule, and the rain god should replace him.
With all the gods behind him, the god of rains came before Varuṇa, who seemed calm and resigned to what was clearly about to happen.
“The gods have asked me,” the rain god declared, “to act as their spokesman and inform you of their opinion. They wish to express that your recent failure to punish Vṛtra has filled them with doubt, and they are no longer sure if you are truly the most powerful and impartial among us. These doubts may or may not be true, but we all know that the best king should be beyond reproach.”
Varuṇa offered no protest, nor could even a grimace be traced on his stoic face.
“The gods have asked me,” said the rain god, coming to the heart of the matter, “to take your place as their leader.”
“So be it,” was Varuṇa’s only reply. He could see the matter from their perspective. Moreover he could see through the rain god’s political eyes as well, and had no desire to descend to that level.
“From today forward,” the rain god declared, “I shall be known as the king, ‘Indra,’ and you shall remove yourself from paradise and retire to the bottom of the deepest ocean. As the custodian of the seas, you shall become the husband of the rivers, to recompense your crime of failing to protect Āpas in her time of need.
Varuṇa again said only, “so be it,” complying without complaint, thinking the judgement good and right in its own way. He stood up and strode out of paradise, and has never once made any attempt to reclaim his throne.
An Alternate Paradise (Āśleṣā & Nāga)
With Varuṇa gone, Indra immediately turned upon the dragons. “To recompense the crime done by the archetype of your race,” he declared, “I banish you too from paradise.”
The dragons rose ferociously against Indra. Against the fully prepared might of the gods, however, they could not prevail, and plummeted from heaven’s paradise.
Landing upon the earthly plane, they tunneled beneath it and with the help of their great architect and builder, Māyā, created a second paradise in the space below the earthly realm, a subterranean paradise, out of sight of the sun and the gods, whom they would forever onward resent and oppose.
A host of other powerful āsura defected from Indra’s kingdom to join the dragons in this alternative paradise, and to fight with them against Indra’s reign.
Their subterranean world is nothing at all like hell or Hades. It is a place of grandeur and pleasure, not punishment and lament; more beautiful than the celestial paradise, full of radiant jewels, exotic groves and lakes, and breathtaking serpentine maidens eager to enjoy their uncommon health and vitality. The air carries sweet scents and music. The ground is multicolored, soft and mixed with jewels and gold.
Without the sun to mark time in a normal way, the subterranean paradise has exceptional freedom from fatigue, aging, and disease. The light here radiates from fantastic phosphorescence and radiant jewels often worn in the crowns on the residents’ serpentine hoods.
Since they dwell below the earthly plane, they are associated with sub-conscious forces. Like lava which flows within the earth, they are associated with the internal power generators in organic bodies, the chakras; especially the deepest, lowest chakras,
which, like dragons are sexual and mystical by nature.
The dragons are materialistic, fascinated by wealth and pleasure, but their approach to enjoying and acquiring these things is through exercise of mind-boggling magic powers (“mystic siddhi”). If the dragons perform some yogic discipline, it is only ever for this sake: strengthening their ability to enjoy the superior pleasures of this world. Indeed there is no species who has better mastery over the arts of pleasure and enjoyment.
The few dragons who have a different disposition were estranged from the rest when their mother, Kadru, rigged a very serious bet against her own sister, Vinata, out of abject jealousy and envy.
“Have you seen the beautiful white horse that emerged from the milk-ocean when it was churned?” Kadru asked her sister.
“Yes,” Vinata replied, “it was magnificent. I have never seen anything so white.”
“No, no!” Kadru protested, “It had some black hair.”
“What!? Are you crazy?”
“I am not crazy,” Kadru taunted. “You are!”
Vinata looked at Kadru incredulously.
“I will stake my very freedom on it,” Kadru said. “If you are right, if the horse has no black hair, I will be your slave, along with all my children, for the rest of our lives. But if I am right, if the horse does have some black hair, you and your children will be my slaves for the rest of your lives. If you’re so confident, accept this bet!”
Vinata accepted.
Kadru then asked her jet-black serpentine children to climb into the divine horse’s tail, where they could be mistaken for black hair. A small section of her children were so disgusted by this trickery, that they disowned their family and moved away from the subterranean paradise. The rest were quite eager to have Vinata and her two powerful children as their mother’s slaves, demonstrating the predominant mentality of dragons: deceptive, tricky, and prone to act out of envy and jealousy over the treasures and pleasures, assets and talents possessed by others.
With a few rare exceptions for the sake of business and pleasure, the dragons’ hatred and spite as a whole is eternally fixed upon Indra, and they, along with the āsuras disgusted with Indra who left paradise, are forever bent upon seeking vengeance by reclaiming the heavens and banishing Indra and the gods from their celestial paradise.
Drugs and Judges
The New Judge (Bharaṇī & Yama)
When Indra assumed the throne of paradise, everyone quickly discovered that he was no Varuṇa. He lacked Varuṇa’s power and the attributes that made Varuṇa the perfect, just leader. Indra could use his clouds to see far and wide, but simply could not match the all-pervasive vision of the omnipresent god of space.
Other than Varuṇa, the only omnipresent God is Viṣṇu, the god of consciousness itself, the ultimate container of all reality, even space. Viṣṇu, however, is not directly involved in the affairs of the world, save on the occasion of unusual emergency. The gods could not convince him to take Varuṇa’s throne, but he did agree to grant one of the gods omnipresent vision equal to Varuṇa’s.
Most interestingly, Viṣṇu did not choose Indra as the recipient of this power. It simply was not possible to give Indra this power without destroying the person Indra fundamentally is: a very partial, biased man, who sees things in terms of how it benefits or interferes with his own plans. Such a jealous person could not possibly possess impartial, all-inclusive vision. Instead, Viṣṇu chose Varuṇa’s former aid and confidant, the god of discipline, Yama.
In most tales this gift of omnipresent vision takes a personified form, named Citra-gupta - a being who witnesses and keeps meticulous account of everyone’s deeds.
Viṣnu gave Yama Varuṇa’s vision, as well as his noose, making him the new judge of gods and men alike.
With omnipresent vision, Yama fully comprehends the intricacies of karma and morality and performs the extremely difficult and weighty task of bestowing suffering and pleasures upon people as the just punishment or reward for their actions. Being able to bear such responsibility earns him the title of Bharaṇa, and reveals him to be a god of unmatched strength and tenacity.
Untouched by partiality, he is never motivated by favoritism or prejudice. In all cases he is dutiful, responsible, moral, and fair.
The Judge’s Court and Attendants
(Pitṛ & Magha)
Yama judges the deeds of “gods and men”, but it is rare that he sees anyone from a sub-human or super-human species. Those species are not designed to exercise much freewill, and therefore they do not do much that Yama needs to judge. Species that are less evolved than humans generally lack the intellect to be able to make moral choices. Those more evolved than humans generally lack the opportunity to choose between right and wrong, since their lives are primarily smooth rides that seldom if ever face moments of critical choice. Humans, however, have enough intellect to make conscious choices, and have almost constant exposure to opportunities in which they must exercise that ability. Human life is, therefore, a “karma-factory.”
The rightness or wrongness of each and every choice we make is a complex puzzle in and of itself. What then of evaluating all the choices that everyone makes throughout their entire lives? Even with the help of Citra-gupta and omnipresent, impartial vision and prudence, Yama still needs assistance in this monumental task.
An entire class of supernatural beings, the Pitṛ provide the bulk of this help. These deities task themselves with ushering deceased, disembodied minds out from their former body and life, into the court of Yama, through his corrective or augmentative preparatory regimens, and, finally to their next destination as a physically incarnated being, through the womb of Yama’s primary nakṣatra, Bharaṇī.
The Pitṛ’s realm is a netherworld, subterranean but “above” the nether-paradise of the Nāga. Yama establishes his court here, in Maghā, the seat of authority and power. Seated on that throne, he judges the beings brought before him by the Pitṛ. His assistant, Citra-gupta (the “accountant of karma”) acts like the lawyer in that court. After sentence is passed, the defendant is prepared for their next incarnation. The Pitṛ create 28 hells and heavens within their netherworld, mainly for the sake of that preparation, or to bestow some karmic rewards or punishments that are impossible to accommodate in the more tangible and “real” earthly realm.
The Pitṛ wield the power of Yama, but prefer to do so in benevolent ways, helping beings get through the confusing interim between tangible incarnations. Deceased humans who resist the pitṛ’s efforts to bring them through Yama’s court find that the Pitṛ become ferocious and monstrous, dragging them by force and without relent. Those who willingly accept the pitṛ’s guidance find them to be helpful and calming, often taking the forms of deceased friends and relatives we knew and trusted. Similarly those who face fearsome sentences usually resist and find the Pitṛ ferocious and forceful, while those who receive rewarding sentences easily see the kind and helpful face of the Pitṛ.
Their tendency to appear as deceased relatives is part of what earns them the name “Ancestors” (Pitṛ). Another reason is that the Pitṛ were created by the first beings created by Brahmā - the first embodied being, and thus the ultimate forefather. They were created for the sake of helping to populate Brahmā’s newly created world, and thus became ancestors of many races and species.
Because they wield the power of Yama, the moral judge, and often take the form of ancestors, they inspire us to be careful about our actions, and especially, to take careful heed of and not transgress cultural moral standards. Thus they can be seen as a force inspiring traditionalism and conservatism.
We often consider Aryama the foremost Pitṛ. This is an awarded position, not a matter of genealogy (Aryama is a child of Aditi, not a Pitṛ by birth). The reason Aryama becomes the master Pitṛ is the similarity in their function. Aryaman is the chief deity who enforces and empowers contracts, promises, and cultural traditions. The Pitṛ are also inspirations for fidelity to cultural trad
ition, and their ushering of beings from death to a new life can be see as the unfolding of a promise. At death, when they take someone out from their old life, they make a promise, “we will bring you through this and you will be born anew.” By passing through Yama’s court and finally bringing the being into a new womb, they fulfill their promise.
The Power of Decisions (Viśākhā & Indrāgni)
Viṣṇu lent aid to Indra by empowering Yama to take over the judicial branch of universal government. Brahmā and Agni also gave Indra an important gift, to help the rain god rise to the task of being the leader of the gods. This gift was “The King of Fire,” Indrāgñi.
Indrāgñi personified resides permanently at the right hand of Brahmā, who must have gifted or at least allowed some portion of it to go to Indra’s side.
The best (indra-) of all forms of fire (agñi) is the “flame” of consciousness, the intellectual metabolism that digests concepts and can make accurate and effective plans. With this at his side and service (personified as his consort, Indrānī) Indra gains the confidence and clarity absolutely necessary for any king or a leader - the ability to make clear decisions and follow through with definite plans and strategies.
Indrāgñi can also refer to the best form of conventional fire, which is the sacrificial flame used to convey offerings to the gods in return for their blessings and protection. In this sense, Indrāgñi has an ambitious, goal-oriented nature - doing what it takes to get what it wants.
A third way to read indrāgñi is as, “Indra’s fire.” This refers to his lightning bolt, the second form of fire, the celestial form that “eats” and releases water from the sky.
Indra’s Miracle Drug (Mṛgaśīrśā & Soma)
At least as important as the gift of supreme-fire is the the gift of supreme-water: Amṛta - Indra’s “miracle drug” given to him by the moon-god, Soma.
Water is the element that enables food to have flavor and vitality, and which, in the form of blood, carries food’s nutrition throughout the body. Water has an intimate symbolic and physical relation to the moon. Symbolically both water and the moon are nurturing, motherly, and feminine. Physically the position of the moon causes the ocean to ebb and flow with tides. It is natural, then, that the moon-god, called Candra has immense control over water, and therefore immense control over the flavor and vitality we can obtain from food.
