by Valmiki
That wicked Tāṭakā constantly destroys the cities of Malada and Karuṣa. She lives half a yojanā from here, right across our path. Rāma, no one can pass through this region because of her. Use your strength to kill this wicked creature—make this region free of danger again! Now I have told you everything about this terrible forest and how, to this day, Tāṭakā has made it impassable!’
Rāma asked another question in his sweet voice. ‘I have heard that yakṣas have very little power. How can it be that Tāṭakā has the strength of a thousand elephants?’
Viśvāmitra replied, ‘Listen and I will tell you. She was given a boon that bestowed this incredible strength upon her. Long ago, there lived a mighty yakṣa named Suketu. Although he was very virtuous, he had no children and so he performed many great austerities. Brahmā was pleased with Suketu and, as is well known, gave him a jewel of a daughter named Tāṭakā who had the strength of a thousand elephants, but he did not bless Suketu with a son.
‘Tāṭakā grew up into a beautiful young woman and was given to Sunda, the son of Jambha, in marriage. Soon, she gave birth to a son, Mārīca the invincible, and he became a rākṣasa because of a curse. When Sunda was killed, Rāma, Tāṭakā decided to attack Agastya, the best of sages, along with her son. Agastya flew into a mighty rage when he saw Tāṭakā rushing towards him and he cursed Mārīca to become a rākṣasa. He cursed Tāṭakā as well. “You shall lose this beautiful body and become an enormous yakṣī, ugly and deformed, an eater of men.” Enraged at being cursed like this, Tāṭakā now haunts the region where Agastya used to live.
‘Rāma, for the welfare of the brahmins and the cows, you must kill this wicked yakṣī, this doer of evil deeds! No one in the three worlds but you can kill this accursed creature. Have no hesitation about killing a woman, for you must do what is best for the four castes. A king must do what will benefit his subjects, even if it is unrighteous, for such is his duty. Don’t you know how Indra killed Mantharā, the daughter of Virocana, because she wanted to destroy the earth? Viṣṇu himself killed Bhṛgu’s wife, the mother of the resolute kāvya, because she wanted to rid the world of Indra! Prince, other great beings have also killed unrighteous women, so suppress your pity and kill Tāṭakā!’
Listening to Viśvāmitra’s words, young Rāma, son of the best of kings and firm in his vows, felt his heart swell with courage. He said, ‘My father told me to follow your instructions. I shall do whatever you ask without hesitation to honour my father’s word and to bring him glory. He gave me these instructions in Ayodhyā, in the presence of the elders and the teachers. I cannot disregard what he said. My father is an honourable man and his words bind me. Therefore, I will slay villainous Tāṭakā. For the sake of the brahmins and the cows and for the welfare of this region, I am eager to carry out your command!’
Rāma grasped his bow and drew back the string with such force that the four directions resounded. Tāṭakā and the other forest creatures grew agitated and Tāṭakā, overcome with confusion and rage, charged in the direction from which the sound had emanated.
When Rāma saw her ugly face distorted with anger, he noticed that she was very old. He said to Lakṣmaṇa, ‘Watch how I cut off the nose and ears of this creature who has mastered the art of illusion and who is practically invincible! I will not kill her because she is a woman. But I will destroy her strength and her ability to move.’ Even as he was speaking, the enraged Tāṭakā charged towards him, roaring, her arms raised above her head.
Viśvāmitra ran towards Tāṭakā as he urged the princes on with shouts of encouragement. Tāṭakā raised a huge cloud of dust and for a few moments the princes could see nothing at all. Resorting to her magic powers, she let loose a rain of stones and rocks upon the two brothers. Rāma returned a shower of arrows in anger and he ran towards her and cut off her hands. Then Lakṣmaṇa attacked the creature and cut off her nose and ears.
Tāṭakā tried to confuse the princes by taking various forms, even by vanishing. All the while, she threw stones and rocks at them.
Viśvāmitra had been watching this ferocious battle and now he cried out, ‘Show this wicked creature no mercy, Rāma! If you let her live, she will regain her strength through her magic powers and go back to obstructing our sacred rituals! The day is ending and such beings are practically invincible at night.’ Even as he said this, there was another shower of boulders.
Viśvāmitra showed Rāma where Tāṭakā was hiding. The yakṣinī hurtled towards Rāma with the speed of a thunderbolt, raising a thick cloud of dust. Rāma hit her in the chest with an arrow and she fell to the ground, dead.
Led by Indra, the gods praised Rāma and honoured him when they saw that huge creature dead on the ground. With great delight, thousand-eyed Indra, the destroyer of cities, and the other gods addressed Viśvāmitra. ‘Great sage, we are all very pleased that this task has been accomplished. We wish to show our appreciation to Rāma. We ask you to bestow the powerful and mighty progeny of Prajāpati on him, the ones you acquired through your austerities. He is worthy of them and he is your devoted follower. Moreover, this prince has an important task to accomplish for the gods!’ As evening fell, the gods returned to their realm.
The sage was deeply satisfied with the killing of Tāṭakā and he kissed Rāma on the forehead. ‘Rāma, we shall stay the night here and tomorrow we can go onwards to my hermitage.’
Chapter Seven
When the night was over, Viśvāmitra smiled and spoke to Rāma sweetly. ‘Illustrious prince, I am pleased with you. I shall happily bestow on you all the mighty weapons that will make you victorious over your enemies, be they gods or asuras, even if they are aided by the gandharvas and nāgas. These weapons are extremely powerful and can take any form at will. Mighty prince, these are the best of weapons. Prepare yourself to receive them!’
The sage purified himself and stood facing east. Then, with great pleasure, he bestowed the mantras on Rāma. As Viśvāmitra recited the sacred verses, the weapons appeared before Rāma in human form. They joined their palms in respect and, full of joy, they said, ‘We are your attendants, Rāma!’ Rāma took them by the hand and caressed them and instructed them to come to him when he called them to mind. Rāma bowed to Viśvāmitra and they continued on their journey.
As they walked along, Rāma said to Viśvāmitra, ‘I have acquired the weapons that make me invincible even to the gods. Now, I want to know how to call them back.’ The resolute sage taught Rāma how to recall the weapons once they had been unleashed. Once Rāma had learnt the mantras, the weapons appeared again in human form. Palms joined in respect, they spoke to Rāma in gentle voices. ‘We are at your service. What can we do for you?’ Rāma replied, ‘You can go wherever you like. Help me when I call on you at the appropriate time.’ The weapons bowed to Rāma and went back to where they had come from.
‘What is that grove of trees over there, near the mountain? It looks like a bank of clouds,’ asked Rāma as they walked further. ‘It seems to be a pleasant place, filled with deer and the sweet sounds of birds. We have left the region that was so awful, it made our hair stand on end. Now we are in a place that calms the mind. Blessed one, whose hermitage is this? Tell me, have we reached the place where wicked creatures who kill brahmins obstruct the sacrifice?’
‘Long ago, this was the hermitage of the great-souled Vāmana,*’ explained Viśvāmitra. ‘It is called Siddhāśrama because the austerities that were performed here bore fruit.
‘At that time, Bali, the son of Virocana, had defeated all the gods, including Indra, and he ruled over the three worlds. When Bali began the performance of a huge sacrifice, the gods, led by Agni, came to this hermitage to speak to Viṣṇu. “O Viṣṇu,” they said, “Bali, the son of Virocana has begun a magnificent sacrifice. You must accomplish your task before the sacrifice is completed. Brahmā grants favours to all who ask, wherever they may come from. Resort to your powers of illusion for the sake of the gods! Become a dwarf and do whatever is necessar
y for the welfare of all beings. Accomplish the work of the gods, Viṣṇu! Then this place will be called Siddhāśrama because of your grace!”
‘Glorious Viṣṇu was born from Aditi and took the form of a dwarf to approach Bali. He asked Bali for all the ground he could cover in three strides. When his request was granted, he stepped over the three worlds, determined to do the best for all beings. Once he had subdued Bali with his strength, he handed the three worlds back to Indra.
‘This hermitage which banishes fatigue belonged to Vāmana in the old days. It belongs to me now because I was his devotee. The rākṣasas who impede the sacrifice come to this very hermitage. It is here that you will have to kill them. We shall reach my hermitage today, which is as much yours as it is mine!’
The sages who lived there saw Viśvāmitra approaching and they greeted him with enthusiasm. They honoured him and welcomed the princes. The princes rested for a little while. Then they went to Viśvāmitra and suggested that he begin his initiation for the sacrifice without any further delay. The sage calmed his mind and began the preparatory meditation. The princes also spent the night in meditation.
The next morning, the two princes, who knew what was appropriate, said to Viśvāmitra, ‘Blessed one, tell us at what point in the ritual the rākṣasas attack. We must be prepared for that moment so that we can protect the sacrifice.’ The sages were delighted when they saw that the young men were eager to do battle. ‘Viśvāmitra has taken a vow of silence as the first step in the ritual,’ they said. ‘From now on, you will have to keep watch for six nights.’
The princes kept watch over the forest hermitage for the next six nights. They sat guarding the sage resolutely, armed with their bows. The days went by and on the sixth day, Rāma said to Lakṣmaṇa, ‘Today, you must be alert!’
As he was speaking, eager for battle, the sacrificial fire tended by Viśvāmitra and the other sages, blazed up. The sacrifice continued with the recitation of mantras and within moments, a terrifying sound came out of the sky. As clouds cover the sky in the monsoon, so the two rākṣasas bore down on the sacrifice with the aid of their magical powers. Mārīca, Subāhu and their terrifying attendants poured forth a shower of blood.
Rāma saw the rākṣasas descending from the sky and turned to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘Watch me get rid of these evil flesh-eating creatures with the Mānava weapon, the way the wind dispels the monsoon clouds!’ he cried. Rāma hurled the shining weapon in anger, straight onto Mārīca’s chest. The rākṣasa was thrown one hundred yojanās and landed in the ocean. Felled by the arrow, Mārīca whirled around in confusion before he lost consciousness. Looking over at the senseless heap, Rāma said to Lakṣmaṇa, ‘Look, Lakṣmaṇa, how this weapon powered by Manu’s righteousness has knocked Mārīcaunconscious without killing him! But I will kill these other blood-drinking, disgusting, wicked rākṣasas whose mischief disrupts the sacrifice!’
Rāma grabbed Agni’s weapon and threw it towards Subāhu who fell to the ground as soon as he was hit. Rāma killed the other rākṣasas with Vāyu’s weapon, much to the delight of the sages. They honoured Rāma as they had honoured Indra long ago. When the sacrifice had been completed, Viśvāmitra noticed that all the four directions had been cleared of trouble. ‘I have accomplished my aim, Rāma,’ he said. ‘And you have fulfilled your teacher’s request. You have made the Siddhāśrama live up to its name!’
Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa passed the night pleasantly, thrilled that they had accomplished their mission. At dawn, they performed their ablutions and the morning worship before they approached Viśvāmitra. They bowed to the sage who blazed like the fire and said to him in their gentle voices, ‘We present ourselves as your servants! What are your commands? Tell us what you want done.’
‘The king of Mithilā, Janaka, is performing a magnificent and righteous sacrifice which we are all going to attend,’ said Viśvāmitra. ‘You must come with us. You shall see a truly marvellous jewelled bow there. This shining bow of immeasurable strength was given to Janaka by the gods at another sacrifice, a long time ago. Since none of the gods nor the gandharvas, neither the asuras nor the rākṣasas are able to string the bow, how can a mere man possibly do so? Many great rulers have tested their strength against this bow, Rāma, but none have been able to string it. If you come with us, you will see Janaka’s golden bow, and be able to attend the wonderful sacrifice.’
The sages and the two princes left for Mithilā after honouring the forest deities. ‘May good fortune attend you! Now that my purpose has been achieved, I am leaving Siddhāśrama and going to the northern banks of the Gangā, to Mount Himavat, the best of mountains,’ said Viśvāmitra as he circumambulated the hermitage and set off towards the north. Viśvāmitra was accompanied by one hundred carts filled with his disciples who were all learned sages. Even the birds and the beasts of the forest followed him for part of the way.
After travelling a long distance, the group stopped on the banks of the river Śoṇā at sundown. They bathed and performed the evening rituals and those sages of limitless power sat around Viśvāmitra. Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa honoured all the sages and then took their places beside Viśvāmitra.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Viśvāmitra woke the princes. ‘Rāma, may good fortune attend you. Dawn is breaking and the morning twilight shall soon pass. Rise, for we must continue our journey.’ Rāma performed the morning worship and made preparations to depart. ‘The river Śoṇā is sandy and shallow,’ he said. ‘Where shall we cross it?’ Viśvāmitra replied that the ṛṣis had told him where to ford the river and went further along the bank.
At midday, they saw the great river Gangā, beloved of the sages. The sacred waters were filled with swans and cranes and all kinds of water birds and the sight filled the travellers with joy. They stopped at her banks and after they had bathed, they honoured the gods and the ancestors. Then they lit the sacred fires and ate the sanctified offerings that were as delicious as the nectar of immortality. They sat around the great sage, their minds at peace and their hearts filled with joy.
‘I want to hear all about the Gangā, blessed one,’ said Rāma. ‘The Gangā flows in all three worlds. How does she reach the ocean, the lord of all rivers?’
Viśvāmitra began the story of Gangā’s birth. ‘The king of mountains is named Himavat. He is the repository of all precious metals. He had two daughters whose beauty was unmatched on earth. Their mother, Himavat’s beloved wife, was the slim-waisted Menā, daughter of Meru. The older daughter was named Gangā and the second one was named Umā.
‘The gods had chosen Himavat’s older daughter for the fulfilment of their aims. They begged Himavat to give them Gangā, the river that flows through the three worlds. Himavat was bound to righteousness and desired the welfare of the world, so he gave Gangā, the one who chooses her own path and purifies the world, to the gods. They accepted her gratefully and went away.
‘Himavat’s other daughter remained unmarried but she grew rich in austerities as she undertook difficult vows and performed great penances. The king of mountains gave this daughter, Umā, so intent on penance and revered by the world, to Śiva.
‘Both Himavat’s daughters, the river Gangā and the goddess Umā, are honoured by the worlds. I have told you everything about how Gangā reached the heavens.’
Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa praised Viśvāmitra’s story and then asked, ‘You have told us a tale that is full of good things, brahmin! But tell us more about Himavat’s elder daughter. You know the complete story. Tell us in detail how she came to be connected with celestial beings as well as with mortals. How did Gangā, the purifier of the worlds, come to flow through the three realms?’
Viśvāmitra continued his story. ‘Long ago, Rāma, the great ascetic Śiva was married to the goddess Umā. He was overcome with desire when he saw her and soon they began to make love. One hundred celestial years went by in their love-making, but despite that no child was born to them.
‘The gods grew increas
ingly agitated and thought, “Who will be able to contend with a being born of this union?” They approached Śiva and bowed before him. “Best of gods, you have the world’s welfare at heart, we bow to you. There is no one in the world who can bear your effulgence and might. Great ascetic, why don’t you remain absorbed in austerities prescribed in the holy books along with the goddess? Retain your seed for the welfare of the worlds! Protect the worlds from destruction!”
‘Śiva agreed to contain his seed within himself. “Umā and I will hold back our reproductive fluids so that the worlds can live in peace. But who will bear the semen that has already been released from my body?” The gods replied that the earth would bear the seed that had been released. Śiva let his semen fall and it covered all the mountains and the forests of the earth.
‘The gods urged Agni, the eater of oblations, and Vāyu: “Quickly, enter Śiva’s semen!” They did so and a huge mountain of semen was formed. It was covered with a forest of reeds which shone with the splendour of the sun. The effulgent Kārtikeya was later born from this blazing splendour. The gods and celestial ṛṣis were filled with happiness and they worshipped Śiva and the goddess.
‘But Umā was outraged. Her eyes blazing with anger, she cursed the gods. “Since my desire for a son ended in this sterile union, the same thing shall happen to all your wives. From this day onwards, your wives shall be barren!” Then she cursed the earth. “You shall take many forms and be a wife to many men. You shall never know the pleasure of having a son and you shall endure my wrath because you prevented me from having a child!”
