The bridegroom bathed in the sacred waters of the Ganga and donned a scarlet silk dhoti. Nandi Deva adorned him with a diamond diadem, garlands and ornaments of rare splendour. Raja Ganapati mounted his lion and began his journey to Brahmaloka, attended by ganas carrying banners and parasols. Shiva and Parvati came seated on Nandi, laden with gifts and followed by the saptarishis, the twelve Adityas and the eleven Rudras.
Krishna welcomed the guests with fragrant flowers and rose water. He regaled the assembly with the story of a day long ago when he had found that his conch was missing. He had traced it by its sound to far-off Kailasa and hurried there, only to find that young Ganesha had swallowed it. He had entertained the boy with some acrobatics—crossing his arms, grasping his ears with his hands and rapidly sitting up and down. The boy had collapsed in laughter and coughed up the conch.
The guests laughed at the story and marvelled that the boy had grown up now to be married to not one but three beautiful girls.
Indrani helped adorn the brides with jewels and rose garlands, and at the auspicious time, beautiful apsaras brought them to the marriage hall. The rishis chanted the sacred mantras while the vidyadharas sang auspicious songs. Saraswati Devi and Brahma performed the rituals to sanctify the marriage. The devas showered rose petals on the happy groom and his brides. There was great cheer and merrymaking.
Then Krishna ushered his sister’s son to a swing that hung in the air under a parijata tree, untethered to heaven or earth. ‘A reminder of your idyllic retreat on earth!’ he laughed. The swing had a jade seat and gold chains studded with emeralds. Parrots and cuckoos sang a sweet chorus from the branches of the parijata.
Ganesha looked at the swing hanging in mid-air and shook his head, a rumbling laugh shaking his belly. ‘Sit, my lovely brides!’ he said. ‘I will transport you to Goloka on this magical swing.’
Krishna whispered in his ear again. ‘You are wise to keep standing, Ganesha!’ he said. ‘How will you sit in the middle when you have three brides?’
Ganesha chuckled and pushed the swing gently forward. Parvati smiled as she stood with Lakshmi and Saraswati, feasting her eyes on her adorable son and his brides.
And then they heard a raucous shriek that split the skies.
Ganesha stilled for a moment and stopped pushing the swing. The devas saw his serious face and halted their revelry. The gandharvas stopped singing. The swing slowed down and finally came to a stop. The brides stepped down and looked around, puzzled. Another shriek echoed in the clouds overhead and they heard giant wings fluttering like a storm in the making.
There was a flash of iridescent blue and green. A huge bird landed in the clear space that had opened up when the devas scuttled backwards from the bridal party. ‘Karthikeya is here!’ they exclaimed. ‘Skanda, the vanquisher of asuras is here!’
From the back of the peacock leapt a glorious warrior with six heads and twelve arms. He bore many dire weapons, foremost of which was a golden lance embodying his mother’s powers. His eyes were red, his eyebrows knitted in rage, and his breath came rapidly as he stood gazing at his brother and his brides, still wearing the nuptial garlands.
‘What is this?’ bellowed the god of war. ‘Have you declared the winner of the race before I returned?’ There was an ominous silence as no one there wished to answer. ‘My brother was still here when I flew into the skies. I saw neither him nor his lowly rodent as I sped over earth, heaven and the netherworld. How then did he claim the prize?’
His scornful eyes gazed at the devas one by one and then settled on Brahma, the father of the brides.
‘Ganesha went around your parents seven times, my son,’ said the white-haired Creator, his voice a low whisper. ‘Then he declared that he had circled the realms, for the Vedas say that one’s parents represent the world.’
‘So speaks the guardian of the Vedas!’ mocked Karthikeya. ‘And did the rest of you uphold my brother’s claim? It would seem so, for I can see the bridal garlands still fresh around Ganesha’s shoulders. But I refuse to accept his dishonest claim and challenge him to a fight. Let him win in single combat with me and prove that he is the better man!’
Karthikeya stood with his head thrown back and his chest thrust out, challenging the fourteen lokas with his might. Would Ganesha take up the challenge? What other recourse did he have?
Siddhi hissed angrily and her bow flew to her hand. Riddhi and Buddhi cast anxious glances at Shiva and Parvati whose eyes were closed in dhyana. Would no one stop this terrible dispute? What if their husband were to be killed before their eyes? After all, Skanda was the god of war, while Ganesha won his battles more with his wit and wisdom.
‘Shiva and Vishnu have blessed our union and there is no need for you to justify your actions to your brother,’ said Buddhi, ever the arbiter of righteousness.
‘Did I not tell you that I dislike your brother?’ Riddhi asked. ‘He wishes to kill you, no doubt, so that he can marry us. Do not fall into his trap, dear Sumukha!’
Siddhi saw Skanda’s lips curl in derision and she hurried to speak up for her new husband. ‘Do not fear this braggart, dear sisters,’ she said, casting a scornful look at the challenger. ‘Ganesha is far superior to him in his martial skills and will send him flying in just a few moments!’
It was great praise coming from the girl who had doubted him for a long time and showed Ganesha that her transformation was complete. His face split wide open in a grin. Then he lifted a pacifying hand towards his wives and moved forward to confront Skanda.
‘I agree to your challenge, brother,’ he said. ‘Let us test our strength against each other.’
The two descended to a barren desert on earth so that no one else would suffer due to their combat. Brahma’s daughters watched fearfully from above, along with the devas.
Skanda stood aggressively with his legs apart and gestured at the skies. In an instant, the stars began to hurtle down towards the earth. The people on earth panicked and ran helter-skelter to escape whatever calamity they portended. Then, Skanda raised his arm again and the stars flew back to their original positions. Ganesha nodded in acknowledgement of his brother’s prowess. He waved his danda in the air and instantly the moon turned green and gleamed from a pink sky. Skanda laughed out loud and waited while his brother turned things back to normal again. He then drew a circle with his finger and from within the circle rose a whirlwind, enveloping Ganesha in sand and hiding him from sight. When the storm settled down, they could see Ganesha standing unruffled, with his hands on his hips.
Ganesha motioned with his fingers to bring down a jagged bolt of lightning that engulfed Skanda in fiery tongues of scarlet and blue. But Skanda stepped out of the flames unharmed, his body glittering like gold. The brothers then assailed each other with boulders and huge trees, mountain peaks and volcanoes spewing fire. They unleashed a typhoon of astras and scorching chakras, glittering spears and pikes. Their bodies bled from a hundred wounds but they fought on without pause. Finally, Skanda raised his golden lance and Ganesha strode forward, his face grim, with his trident in his hand. Who could withstand the lance imbued with Durga’s shakti? Who could survive the fiery trishul of Mahadeva? The devas cried out in fear and Ganesha’s wives fell at Parvati’s feet, imploring her to intervene.
12
Celebrating Love
Skanda threw his glinting lance at his brother. Ganesha halted its fearsome attack with his trident. Each brother strained his muscles to the limit, trying to overwhelm the other with his superior strength. Fierce sparks sprang from the friction as the weapons clashed together. Flames rose to engulf the skies and set fire to the seas. Brahma watched with fear as all creation was threatened with extinction. Surya went into hiding and Yama readied to harvest a mountain of lives.
And then, Ganesha moved his lips close to Skanda’s ear. The devas strained to hear what he said, but the wind carried only a few words to them: Muruga, girl and elephant.
The two combatants stood frozen, and it seemed as if Time s
tood still too, waiting for the cataclysm. Karthikeya smiled then and backed away. His lance vanished as did Ganesha’s trishul. Parvati’s lips twitched with laughter and she embraced her three new daughters. Vishnu’s smile assured the devas that the danger was past and that the world would return to normal again. The ganas turned cartwheels in joy, for they had been distraught at seeing the two sons of Shiva in conflict.
‘We should have realized that they were sporting with us,’ said Indra to Vayu, laughing, as Ganesha returned to their midst, his arm around his brother’s waist. Siddhi cast Ganesha a smouldering look. Her husband would have to pay a price for teasing her. Buddhi’s mind was busy wondering what Ganesha had said to Skanda to make him retreat. Riddhi was happy that her Sumukha was unharmed and joined her hands in gratitude to Parvati.
There was nothing to mar their happiness now. Like Krishna in Vrindavan, Ganesha too created many forms of himself to please the girls. He played the flute to serenade Buddhi and the tabla too when the three of them wished to dance. He roamed the forests with Siddhi on the back of his lion and brought Riddhi rare silks and rubies. He blessed his devotees who were celebrating Ganesha Chathurthi, for a whole year had passed since he had first met the sisters.
It was a challenge of another kind to keep his three wives happy. Buddhi happened to see a temple where he was worshipped with Siddhi and Riddhi, and asked him angrily why she was missing.
‘You were already a part of me,’ he answered softly. ‘People who pray at this temple seeking jnana are in reality praying to you. As Krishna said to Radha in Vrindavan when she asked him why he would not marry her: “How can I marry my own soul?”’
‘Does this mean that Buddhi is more important than we are?’ demanded Riddhi, glaring at him.
It is easier to create a new world than to keep these three happy, thought Ganesha. But he would not have it any other way.
The girls laughed at him then and he understood that they had been teasing him. They looked down on earth and saw his many images, big and small, red and yellow, with one head and many. His devotees lovingly decorated the idols, placed them under colourful canopies and made sweet offerings. Each family had its own small idol of Ganesha that they bathed in honey, anointed with sandalwood paste and clothed in bright silks. And when the ten days of celebration were over, they carried the idols to be dissolved in the ocean or the river, and wept to see him go.
‘Our god will return to us again next year,’ said the priests as they performed the final aarti. ‘Gajamukha helps us understand that all life must depart, only to be created again in a new form. We perform rituals and pujas, listen to stories that speak of his glory and realize the ultimate truth that he embodies. We learn the meaning that underlies our faith and keeps it thriving through the ages, transcending all boundaries. Bless us, divine son of Shiva, with your wisdom and your love!’
In the heavens, the devas too worshipped Ganesha: ‘Twam Shakti Trayatmakah! O Ganesha, you are the embodiment of the three Shaktis—knowledge, desire and action. Bless us and guide us to bliss!’
MANDODARI
1
Strange Beginnings
She was submerged in water—foul, stagnant water that flooded her nose and her mouth. She panicked. Her heart seemed to stop and then start again, pounding faster than before. She gasped and more water flooded in. She could not swim. How could she survive? She spluttered and kicked out in desperation. The surface! She must get to the surface at once or she would drown. And how had she ended up here? She could remember a glorious world, filled with light and grace, where kindly eyes had looked upon her. That was where she belonged, not here. She was beautiful, blessed and admired, not someone meant to die in a noxious pond. Or perhaps, this was a nightmare that she would soon awaken from.
More water rushed into her mouth. She spat it out and flailed again. She was unable to breathe or call for help, her eyes were turning glassy, her body sinking to the depths. Where were the noble gods who had blessed her? Was this a trial to test her strength? If that were so, she was certain that she would fail . . .
No! She would not give up. She held her breath, clamped her lips together and renewed her efforts to raise her head above the water. But it appeared that she could make no progress. Her lifeless body would soon be eaten by sharks and fish.
And in that dark moment, she saw it. The water around her was lighter, brighter and shot through with sunlight. There was hope still! She kicked her feet out once more, filled with a grim focus. Her head emerged above the surface of the water. A harsh croak of triumph escaped her lips. She gulped down the air, fervently thanking the gods who had let her live. Something clammy curled around her foot and she shuddered as she shook it off. Her senses took in the murky pond she was in and the ugly creatures swimming around her. The dank smell made her nostrils twitch in distaste. Sheer terror overcame her senses. She dropped into a half-swoon and escaped into that rare world in which she had worn fine silks and her body had been anointed with crushed turmeric and rose water. She could literally smell her heavenly perfume, concocted from champaka, chandana, nagapushpa and other essences.
A loud grunt startled her from her reverie. Alas, not much had changed. She was still trapped in the water, her instincts screaming for her to flee. She knew without a doubt that death was coming for her. Her eyes scanned the waters in fear. The grunts were nearer now, battering her ear. Then she saw the giant turtle advancing on her, its jaws wide open, its sharp beak poised to mangle her flesh and bones. She pushed away in panic even as the turtle lashed out, raking its claws over her soft body. Her limbs thrashed furiously, but the enemy’s jaws were clamped on her foot, grinding down into the bone, dragging her back towards its maw. She pulled desperately, ignoring the red-hot pain that lanced through her as she tore free, leaving part of her limb behind. She hid behind a forest of algae, but was it enough to shake her killer off? The turtle cruised slowly past, its head swivelling in search of its prey. She was safe for the moment, but she should get to land at once. Her foot was throbbing with pain. How badly was she hurt?
She looked down and shuddered as she saw not a dainty foot circled with a gold anklet, but the webbed foot of a frog. No! Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. She shut them tight and opened them again, gazing in disbelief at what she could see of herself. Instead of a slender, shapely body, she now had the gross form of a frog. The fair, perfumed skin of an apsara had been transformed into a mottled green. Her face probably featured bulging eyes and a snout. Then her tongue darted out of its own volition, wrapped itself around a disgusting insect and brought it back into her mouth. She gagged and spat it out. What was happening? She suppressed the scream that rose in her throat, knowing that her croak would bring back her foe. Was this her real world now? What had happened to the other one in Kailasa?
O Shiva, allow me to return to your radiant mountain, she prayed fervently. Forgive me for the sins that have brought me tumbling down. Enfold me in your grace, great god!
Once again, her memory took her back to the exquisite world atop a divine mountain—home to the wondrous Shiva and the divine Parvati. She saw Vishnu’s beatific smile as he blessed her. How could she find her way back to that ethereal domain? She was sure that what she was seeing was not real. If she were only a frog, how could she have imagined that rare world in such detail?
And then she remembered . . . A wrathful goddess had cursed her with an upraised arm. A profound grief had cleaved her soul. A curse! That must be the reason for her being reduced to this state—desolate, broken, without hope.
She had been sent here to die.
In her moment of despair, she seemed to hear a strong, virile voice calling to her. ‘Come to me, my love! Hold on to me and never let go,’ he said. Her eyes brightened, her heart leapt with joy. She recognized the voice of her saviour. She remembered the warrior with arms so powerful that he could carry the earth with ease. His eyes had burned into hers with a searing passion, vowing to keep her safe forever.
&n
bsp; And then, a savage wind had whirled her away. She had been helpless, hurtling earthward, the curse turning her into a frog.
Where are you, great one? she screamed now. Save me, for without you I am nothing!
But all she heard in reply was the keening of the wind in the trees.
Many hundred years earlier, the asura princess Kaikesi had given birth to a baby boy—a son like no other. She and her husband Sage Vishrava had named him Dashanan, for he had ten heads. ‘He is born under an evil star that makes him easily susceptible to vanity and desire,’ said Vishrava’s father Maharishi Pulastya, son of Brahma himself. ‘However, I will watch over him and steer him on to the right path.’
Soon, under his tutelage, the child dedicated himself to intense study and prayer. After years of fierce effort, he became proficient in the astras and shastras, in music and mathematics, in astronomy and astrology.
‘Your body and mind are pure, cleansed of the ten vices,’ said the proud Pulastya to his grandson. ‘Your many heads now symbolize your mastery of the four Vedas and the six Upanishads. Next, you must learn to control the indriyas, the five organs of sense and five of action. You will then become like Indra, lord of the heavens!’
Dashanan was a devoted son and a good brother to Kumbhakarna, Vibhishana and Surpanakha. He quickly became an expert in the Sama Veda, the most sacred and complex of the Vedas, and delighted the gods with his chants. He played the veena with exquisite skill and composed verses in praise of the Trinity. His deep study of the planets helped him interpret their movements and provide guidance to sages and kings. He also imbibed the intricacies of statecraft at the feet of Pulastya.
Prem Purana Page 9
