by Vic DiCara
Intoxicated by his infatuation, Brahmā ignored her words and continued to petition her.
Vāk continued to resist, and began to walk away.
Brahmā followed.
She began to run.
Brahmā started to run after her, but Vāk’s brothers intervened and stopped him.
“What you are doing is not right,” they said. “There’s really nothing wrong with the fact that she is your daughter because, after all, every women who will ever exist in this world will be your daughter. The real problem is that she is not interested in you, but you are forcing yourself on her. To force yourself upon a woman is a despicable crime.”
Hearing this snapped Brahmā out of his infatuation and filled him with shame and regret. Disgusted with himself and the body he had used to chase a fleeing woman, he cast off that physical body and resigned himself to an amorphous incorporeal form.
Seeing Brahmā’s sincere penance, regret and plight, Vāk took pity on him - and made him a new body, crafting it from the components of language itself. This allowed wisdom (Brahmā) to have the integration with words (Vāk) that it so passionately sought. Vāk agreed to become Brahmā’s consort in principle, so that wisdom and words could work cooperatively, but she insisted on the condition that she and her husband forever live separately and never have sexual relations.
Rudra (Ārdra, Mūla, & the Bhādrapadās)
Most of the gods are absorbed in sensual merriment and bless humanity to enjoy similar prosperity. Rudra, however, is quite different. He lives in crematoriums without even a roof over his head, surrounded by ghosts and ghouls, dressed in bark and animal skins, smeared in cremation ash, with uncut, uncombed hair. He is entirely disinterested in sensual merriment because he is enthralled in far superior internal bliss. His blessings cause humans to lose interest in superficial pleasures, and turn towards deeper, more substantial joys.
All four of his nakṣatra - Ārdra, Mūla, and the two Bhādrapadā - are marked by this disinterest in conventional life and attraction to deeper, more profound things.
Rudra seems to have two very different faces. Seen from the superficial perspective, he appears terrifying and destructive. Seen from the deeper perspective, he appears peaceful and benevolent. He first appeared in this world as a ferocious, howling, purple, androgyne child; personifying the anger and frustration Brahmā experienced in his initial failed attempts at creation. Brahmā had tried to contain his anger between his eyebrows, but ultimately failed and it leapt forth from his forehead in the form of Rudra.
On Brahmā’s request, the original androgyne Rudra became eleven male and female forms, and produced many children, becoming the fountainhead of an entire class of fearsome, monstrous divinities that flourished in the early universe and threatened to destroy it.
Troubled by the proliferation of destructive forces, Brahmā petitioned Rudra, “Please control your anger and your offspring. Anger and destruction is useful at the right time and place, but if uncontrolled it destroys everything.”
“How can I, the very personification of your anger, ever become peaceful?” Rudra asked, incredulously.
“You can learn to control your feelings,” Brahmā replied.
“How could that be possible?”
“Through yoga,” Brahmā advised.
Rudra went into seclusion at the top of a mountain and perfected the science of yogic meditation, becoming the original yogī; perfectly peaceful, self-controlled, and happy. When he returned from his meditation on the mountaintop, a delighted Brahmā awarded him the name Śiva, which means “calm” and “benevolent.”
Among all the children and expansions of Rudra and Rudrāṇī, the exalted dragon named Ananta Śeṣa is especially important. This is the form of Rudra who dwells in the Bhādrapadā nakṣatra, renouncing his luxurious throne as king of the Āśleṣā dragons to live in the solitude of a place symbolized as a crematorium altar. This shows that Ananta Śeṣa, like Rudra himself, is entirely disinterested in temporary wealth and interested only in what is real, eternal, and truly auspicious (“bhādrapadā”).
Also exactly like Rudra himself, Ananta Śeṣa manifests two distinct forms in the two Bhādrapadā nakṣatra: one ferociously destructive, the other peacefully beneficent. In Pūrva Bhādrapadā, Ananta Śeṣa manifests as Ajaikapat, the ferocious fire-breathing dragon who reduces the universe to ash. In Uttara Bhādrapadā, he manifests as Ahirbudhnya the peaceful water-dwelling dragon who holds up the world and keeps it intact.
Ajaikapat, who is often depicted as storm-clouds, acts like a hurricane or inferno passionately and ferociously tearing through non-eternal experiences in an intense search for the meaning of true wealth. On the other hand, Ahirbudhnya, who is often depicted as rain-clouds, is usually quite calm, and simply shows no interest in temporary, ephemeral things. Being a Rudra, Ahirbudhnya can also display ferocious anger at times, but his fundamental character is detached, distant, and calm.
The male and female form of Rudra have their homes on opposite sides of the sky: Rudra in Ārdrā, Rudrāṇī in Mūla. Their profound disinterest in conventional pleasures is profoundly illustrated by their clash with the archetype materialist, Dakṣa.
Dakṣa was the sexual powerhouse of the gods, the progenitor extraordinaire, profusely enjoying all the beauty and luxury that surrounds and enhances sex. Rudrāṇī incarnated as his 13th daughter, Satī. She grew up wanting to marry no one but Śiva.
Her father was vehemently opposed to the idea. “How could a delicate, lovely, super-qualified princess like Satī be wed to a homeless cave-dweller surrounded by goblins?” he thought.
But Sati persisted and married Śiva against her father’s advice.
After marriage, Satī was exceedingly blissful, coming in touch with spiritual reality and spiritual bliss as a result of mastering yogic meditation under Śiva’s guidence. She and her ascetic husband lived in utter joy, without the slightest need for a roof over their head or a penny in their pockets. Dakṣa, however, was blind to their happiness. All he could see was their lack of material prosperity, and hated Śiva. “Because of him, my beloved daughter lives in squalor, disarray, and uncivilized indignity.”
On one occasion, Śiva and Dakṣa both attended the same function. When Dakṣa arrived, everyone rose to pay respect; everyone except Śiva who was seated in meditation, with his eyes closed.
Dakṣa was furious and insulted. Storming out of the assembly in a huff, he shouted, “You claim to have married my daughter, but this is a lie. You kidnapped her! If you had really married her you would consider yourself my son-in-law and would show some respect!”
Śiva did not retaliate at all, though his followers exchanged insults and curses with Dakṣa’s retinue.
Dakṣa was renowned as the most expert enjoyer of life. No one could execute Vedic ceremonies as flawlessly as he, and thus no one could reap the results of such enjoyable karma. In the course of expanding his opulence and glory, Dakṣa performed the most elaborate possible series of rituals ever imagined. For the final ceremony, he staged an enormous, grand festival.
Satī heard about it and wanted to attend, to see her beloved sisters and mother. Śiva advised her against it, knowing Dakṣa had disowned her for remaining married to a person he considered an enemy. Satī, however, couldn’t fathom the hardness and shallowness of her father’s heart, and attended the festival anyway.
As soon as she arrived, she was mortified by the extreme disrespect her father showed her husband and his own daughter. She publicly berated Dakṣa in front of the entire festival, calling him a fool with an infantile and shallow concept of wealth and happiness. Seeing absolutely no remorse from him, she then made a terrible proclamation, “The fact that I am your daughter is an insult to my flawless husband. I cannot for another day tolerate having a body that is connected to a creature as foul and wretched as you. Watch now as your own daughter commits suicide before your very eyes, in the middle of your grand and pompous festival!”
; Dakṣa was so deeply submerged in his indignation that even these words from his once-beloved youngest daughter did not move him. He said nothing as Satī sat before him and, with her yogic power alone, instantaneously obliterated her body in a flash of mystical fire.
This tale illustrates the fact that Rudra and Rudrāṇī are at odds with normal, conventional conceptions of wealth, pleasure, and happiness. They find it very difficult to integrate with superficial society, and show an extreme preference for being left alone to tend to their internal pursuits, rather than becoming absorbed in the meaningless externals of the “real world.”
Conventional, materialistic eyes see Rudra as a destroyer; an awful, terrible, destructive force like an earthquake or a hurricane. The deeper truth, however, is that Rudra and Rudrāṇī can reach beauty and wonder at a level too deep for the “Dakṣas” of this world to perceive.
The form of Rudrāṇī who dwells in Mūla is especially known as Nirṛti - a Rudrāṇī born from the churned ocean of milk. She is also known as Alakṣmī (luckless), the older sister of Lakṣmī (luck). Lucklessness coming before luck illustrates that we must first destroy our infatuation with illusory, superficial fortune (alakṣmī) and only then can we achieve true fortune (lakṣmī).
Lakṣmī and her sister have an affectionate relationship. Alakṣmī takes the form of an owl and always stays on Lakṣmī’s shoulder, frightening the weak-hearted and preventing them from approaching her beautiful sister. This too illustrates that good fortune comes only when we have the fortitude to face the things we must overcome and destroy.
Viṣṇu (Śravaṇa, Uttarāṣāḍhā, & Dhaniṣṭā)
Like Brahmā and Śiva, Viṣṇu is understood differently depending on your point of view. The philosophical, uttara school sees Viṣṇu as the primal conscious entity, the substrate of reality itself. The practical, pūrva school, however, isn’t very concerned with such lofty ideas and instead sees Viṣṇu mainly as the god of locomotion, empowering our feet to move swiftly and effectively.
Indeed, the word śravaṇa literally means “flow,” and the nakṣatra is symbolized by footprints. In fact it is symbolized by three footprints… a reference to how Viṣṇu rescued the gods from exile:
After suffering defeat as a result of losing the nectar of immortality, the āsura king, Balī, sought help from scholars and became a dedicated disciple of a mystic scholar named Śukra. Pleased with Balī’s sincere dedication, Śukra and the others blessed him to have unmatched power. In addition Śukra equalized the advantage the gods gained by possessing the nectar of immortality; he promised to revive any āsura slain by the gods.
Enriched with the powerful blessings of Śukra and the scholars, Bali confidently marched upon paradise at the head of an army of āsuras.
Upon seeing his might from afar, Indra trembled and sought guidance from his own scholar and guide, Bṛhaspati.
“Balī is undefeatable,” Bṛhaspati told Indra. “The wisest thing you could do would be to flee from paradise with all the gods. Hide yourselves in the forests and caves.”
Thus Bali walked into paradise uncontested. There he took Indra’s throne, and gained command over the three worlds.
Aditi lamented to see her divine children in exile, so she called Viṣṇu to become her child and save them. He soon appeared before her as a beautiful, pleasant, small boy (vāmana), who adopted a student’s lifestyle and manifested superb conversance with all the information and knowledge found in the Vedas.
“Please save your brothers and sisters!” Aditi petitioned.
“We cannot defeat Balī in combat,” Vāmana replied, “but I can leverage the very thing that has made him undefeatable: his loyalty to and respect for scholars.”
Vāmana then walked peacefully into Balī’s court at the bottom of the subterranean heavens, where he was greeted warmly by the king. “Please allow me to give you charity,” Balī asked the philosopher-child. “Ask me for anything.”
“Alright,” Vāmana replied, “please give me three strides of land.”
“Just three strides?” Balī asked incredulously. “I rule the three worlds. Please ask for something bigger.”
“Dear King,” Vāmana replied, “if one is not happy with three paces of land, one will not be happy with all the three worlds either. You, of all people, should know this. So, all I want is three paces.”
Profoundly impressed with the philosopher-child’s depth of realization and profundity, Balī immediately began to make his promise, but Śukra rushed to stop him. “This is very suspicious,” Śukra whispered in Balī’s ear. “I suspect this boy is Viṣṇu, hatching some scheme to reclaim paradise for the gods.”
“So what if he is!” Balī replied. “He is a wise philosopher and I shall grant his request. If he takes my kingdom, so be it!”
As soon as Balī promised Vāmana three paces of land, the boy grew huge and took an incredibly long stride from the lower heavens all the way up to the earth. Then, with a second stride he traversed from the earth to the highest heaven, with his toe piercing the shell of the world itself, through which the divine water that would eventually become the Ganges began to flow.
“You promised three steps,” Vāmana declared to the positively awestruck Bali, “but with just two I have taken everything you own. How will you fulfill your promise now?”
“You have not yet claimed my heart,” Balī replied, “I still possess that. So, put your third step on my head to claim my very being.”
Very satisfied that he had demonstrated to the world the peerless nature of Balī’s character, Vāmana then declared, “Dear Balī, I have taken paradise from you, but I will give it back in full when I make you Indra in the future. Between now and then you will dwell in a realm called Sutala, where you shall neither age nor feel fatigue or grief. I will remain there with you always and personally protect you from any intruder.”
This story illustrates many things about Viṣṇu, and thus about Śravaṇa nakṣatra. Viṣṇu is indebted to any act of devotion - like Balī’s honesty and dedication. He is fair - accomplishing what the gods deserve without violating what Balī deserved. He does not use brute force, but achieves his aims instead through intelligence, strategy, words, and charm. And he is able to move swiftly and effectively.
The two nakṣatra directly adjacent to Śravaṇa are also directly associated with Viṣṇu.
On one side of Śravaṇa is Uttarāṣāḍhā, which belongs to a divinity named Viśvadeva. We might consider this a reference to the ten sons of goddess Viśva, each of whom has a particular quality that plays an essential role in acquiring success and victory (āṣāḍhā). Or it may be closer to the mark to consider this a reference to all the gods taken together as a whole, without partiality. The word viśvadeva literally means “The Divinity (deva) that is everywhere (viśva).” Thus Viśva-deva is a synonym for Viṣ-ṇu: the all-pervading divinity. It especially refers to the individual rays of consciousness who expand from Viṣṇu into every nook and cranny of existence: the divinity that is everywhere and in everyone, at the spiritual core of each and every one of us.
On the other side of Śravaṇa is Dhaniṣṭā, formerly known as Śraviṣṭhā, which belongs to a divinity known as Vasu - which literally means “an object / an article of wealth.” In classical Vedic thought there are 8 types of tangible objects: the primary five are earth, water, fire, air, and space. In addition to these five, there are three special objects which govern and regulate the production and evolution of the others. These are the Sun, Moon, and “stars” (all other lights in the heavens, including what we call planets).
Each of the fundamental 8 Vasu (objects) is the expression of a particular divinity.
Earth:Pṛthvī
Water:Āpas
Fire:Agni
Air:Vāyu
Space:Dyaus
Stars:Nakṣatrānī
Moon:Chandra
Sun:Āditya
The Stars, Moon and Sun regulate how the
other five basic elements can combine to produce specific, complex, desirable objects of wealth. They do so because their movements are the Universe’s fundamental markers of time, and time is what allows our efforts (“karma”) to create changes, and thus bring specific objects into and out of existence.
Also, the three super-objects Stars, Moon, and Sun correspond to the three elements of subtle matter. The Sun corresponds to our ego, the Moon to our emotional mind, and the Stars to our pattern-making intellect. All physical reality - composed of earth, water, fire, air, and space - is a result of the endeavors made and desires held by the intellect, emotions, and ego of conscious beings.
All conscious beings are rays of the super-conscious being, the ultimate root of all conscious individuals, Viṣṇu. Viṣṇu is therefore the ultimate source of all reality (Vasu). This is why he is referred to as Vasudeva (the divinity of reality). Varāha Mihira, in fact, refers to Dhaniṣṭā explicitly as the abode of Vasudeva.
So, Śravaṇa is the nakṣatra of consciousness itself. Uttarāṣāḍha is the nakṣatra of individual conscious entities. And Dhaniṣṭā is the nakṣatra of the objects of perception: desirable sounds, sights, tastes and so on.
Appendices
Nakṣatra Coordinates
Zodiac signs are based on the equinox. Nakṣatras are based on stars. The equinox and the stars do not have a fixed, permanent relationship to each other, so the relationship between Zodiac signs and Nakṣatras gradually changes. The table below expresses the current relationship between the nakṣatra and the equinotical/tropical zodiac. It will be reasonably accurate for decades.
The table shows where each nakṣatra starts. The previous nakṣatra end where the next one starts. For example: Kṛttikā starts at ♉︎ 20º47’ and stretches to ♊︎ 4º07’, where Rohiṇī begins.
