Tales from the Indian Epics

Front matter

TALES FROM THE INDIAN EPICS

PRINCE ANSHUMAT AND THE OLD WOMAN

(See p. 114)

The Churning of the Ocean

TALES FROM THE INDIAN EPICS

THE CHURNING OF THE OCEAN

Once upon a time in the youth of the world there stood to the north of India a mighty mountain named Mount Meru. Its summit shone so brightly that the sun's rays, when they struck it, shivered and fell away. One day the lesser gods gathered in council upon its peak, for they wished to obtain the ambrosia which would make them immortal like the three supreme gods, Vishnu, Brahmadeva and Shiva. Now the jar in which the ambrosia was kept lay at the bottom of the ocean and none of the lesser gods could conceive a plan by which they could obtain possession of it. As they sat in council, there came to them the great god Vishnu, and the lesser gods asked him for his advice. Vishnu answered them, saying, "Call the demons to your aid and churn the ocean. When you have churned it, not only will you get the ambrosia, but you will get a great store of jewels and other precious things besides."

The lesser gods followed the counsel of Vishnu, left the summit of Mount Meru and withdrew to another great mountain named Mount Mandara. Its peak was not resplendent like that of Mount Meru. Its sides were covered with dense forests, through which roamed elephants and lions, tigers and leopards. The lesser gods seized the great mountain and tried to uproot it so that they might churn the ocean with it, as the Lord Vishnu had advised. But although they strove their utmost, the great mass of Mount Mandara moved not a hair's breadth. The celestials, finding their strength unequal to the task, sought out the great gods Vishnu and Brahmadeva. "Great lords," they said, "tell us, we pray you, how we may uproot Mandara Mountain, for without it we cannot churn the ocean and win the ambrosia." Lord Vishnu called to him Vasuki the king of the snake people and said to him, "O Snake King, the command that I lay upon you is this. Go with the lesser gods and help them uproot Mandara Mountain." Vasuki, the king of the snake people, obeyed Lord Vishnu, and going with the lesser gods to Mount Mandara, he fastened round it his endless coils. Then pressing them against the base of the mountain he tore it up by the roots. Together the Snake King and the lesser gods rolled the mountain to the shores of the ocean. "Lord Ocean," they said, "we desire the ambrosia which lies fathoms deep below your surface. And to win it we shall churn your water with the Mandara Mountain." "As you will," said the ocean. "Give me but a draught of the ambrosia and I will gladly allow you to churn my waters."

Hearing the words of the ocean the lesser gods were glad, and, as the Lord Vishnu had advised them, they bade the demons join them. Then gods and demons went together to the king of the tortoises. They found him in his palace and said to him. "O Tortoise King, come to our aid, we pray you. For we have resolved to churn the ocean with Mount Mandara that we may win the ambrosia. But if we place Mount Mandara on the bottom of the ocean it will sink into the sands. Come, therefore, O King of the Tortoises, and lie at the bottom of the ocean. For if you bear it on your mighty back, we shall be able to pull Mount Mandara to and fro and so churn the ocean." The Tortoise King consented, and with the gods and the demons walked to the shores of the ocean. When they had reached the edge of the water, the god Indra, the chief of the lesser gods, by means of many cunning instruments, placed Mount Mandara upon the back of the king of the tortoises. Bearing this mighty burden the king of the tortoises entered the ocean, and walked along its bottom until he reached the deepest part. Then Vasuki the Snake King swam out across the surface of the water until he reached the spot where the top of Mount Mandara stood high above the waves. Coiling himself round the great mountain he bade the lesser gods hold him by the tail and the demons hold his head. Demons and gods seized him as he bade them, and pulling him backwards and forwards they began to churn the ocean. Great masses of foam rose upon the waters. Clouds of vapour issued from the mouth of the Snake King Vasuki and scorched the faces of the demons who pulled the Snake King's head. Then rising higher the vapour descended in cooling rain to refresh the lesser gods. And the forest flowers torn from the sides of Mount Mandara by the coils of the Snake King were wafted abroad by the winds and fell softly upon their faces. The gods and demons pulled the mountain summit backwards and forwards through the air so swiftly that the forests upon it caught fire. But the god Indra opened the windows of heaven and the rain fell in torrents on the fire and extinguished it. Yet although gods and demons toiled without ceasing until their strength was spent, nothing rose from the surface of the ocean. The lesser gods and the demons then went to the court of Brahmadeva and said, "O father of the gods, we are exhausted with labour and can work no more, yet the ambrosia has not been won." Brahmadeva begged the Lord Vishnu to give the gods and demons greater strength, that they might continue the churning. This the Lord Vishnu did, and they swung Mount Mandara to and fro until the foam of the churned ocean rose almost higher than the great mountain itself. At last a pale yellow disk began slowly to rise from the ocean. It rose right out of the waters high into the sky, and, ever since, as the moon, has at night time shed its pale light over the earth. Next there rose from the waters an elephant larger than mortal mind could have imagined. Two enormous white tusks stretched many yards in front of him. His eyes were like red ponds, and his trunk seemed to rival in length the great coils of the Snake King himself. Indra called the mighty beast to him and soothing it with his hand, said, "You shall be known hereafter as Airavat and shall be my servant always." Still the churning continued and there rose from the sea the prettiest maid who had ever been seen in the three worlds. Her long black lashes drooped upon a pair of rosy cheeks. Her hair curled in golden rings over an ivory forehead. Her eyes were bluer than the sky above. Indra called her to him. "You shall hereafter be called Rambha," he said, "and you shall be chief among my dancing girls."

Harder still the gods and demons toiled at the churning, until there rose from the waters the most awful vision of beauty that eyes human or divine had ever seen. From a perfect face two eyes of deepest grey looked out. Thy gazed unblinking into space. But so grave was their expression and so full of wisdom that neither demon nor god, except Vishnu alone, dared meet their look. A moment later, amid an awed hush, Vishnu stepped forward and took the lovely woman by the hand. "You shall be called Lakshmi," he said, "and you shall be my queen."

Backwards and forwards swung Mount Mandara. Then from a distance the gods and demons saw a fair woman coming towards them. In each hand she carried a jar, but when she came close, they saw that her expression was evil and that great lines marred her features and that black pits lay under her eyes. They let the strange woman pass, and she made her way to the dry earth. There, known as Sura or the wine goddess, she has dwelt ever since.

Again they churned until there rose above the waves a pure white horse. It was the most beautifully shaped horse that has ever lived on earth before or since. It swam through the billows until it reached the shore, when it thundered out of sight at full gallop.

"Let its name be Uchaisrava," said Indra, and the gods and the demons once more bent to the churning. Then there rose above the foam the most marvellous jewel that eyes have ever beheld. Set in a vast plate of gold were emeralds like the green pools of an Indian village and sapphires like the blue lakes in the Himalaya mountains. Vast rubies shone out of masses of diamonds huge as rocks of crystal. The Lord Vishnu stepped forward and fastened the sea jewel round his neck. There, known as Kaustubha, it has hung ever since.

Still they churned, the gods and demons, until a strange ripple spread over the waters and a terrible stench rose from it. The head and tail of the giant snake dropped gradually out of the hinds of the fainting churners. Even Vasuki's eyes became dull and his coils began to slip inertly off Mount Mandara's sides. Suddenly the god Shiva placed his mouth on the waves near the ripple, and sucking it in, saved the three worlds. For this was the terrible Vish—the poisonous fluid which overlaid the ambrosia to guard it. If the Lord Shiva had not drunk it, it would have destroyed alike the lesser gods, demons and men. As the Lord Shiva swallowed it, it burnt a deep blue mark on his throat. And he has ever since been known as Nilkantha or Blue-throat.

When the fumes of the Vish had passed away, the gods and demons churned once more. At last an aged man rose slowly through the masses of the ocean foam. In his right hand he carried a gold jar of exquisite workmanship from which issued a perfume of delicious fragrance. At the sight of the aged man, whom they knew to be Dhanwantari, the demons snatched the ambrosia from his hands, trying to rob the gods of their share. But the Lord Vishnu took it back from them. And to punish them for their greed he poured out the ambrosia to the gods only, who drank it and at once became immortal, while the demons, who drank none of it, have remained mortal to this day.

But one of the demons, Rahu by name, took the form of a celestial, and deceiving the Lord Vishnu received a draught of ambrosia. As the demon drank, the sun-god pierced his disguise and told the Lord Vishnu of his deceit. Vishnu, lifting his discus, shore off the head of Rahu with it before the ambrosia had passed his throat. Rahu's body fell to the ground, and, being mortal, soon rotted. But his head, having taken the ambrosia, is immortal and still endures.

But because the sun-god detected him as he drank the divine liquid, and told Vishnu, Rahu's head bears to the sun-god an undying hatred. Sometimes he steals up unperceived close to the bright sun-god and with a single bite swallows him. But because Rahu has no body, the sun-god in due course reappears through his enemy's throat and once again begins to shine upon the earth in all his former splendour.

And then men gather together and say that there has been an eclipse of the sun.

Veda's Pupil

VEDA'S PUPIL

Once upon a time there lived in India a great rishi or sage named Veda. According to the custom of those days, he took as his pupil a Brahman boy named Uttanka. Now Veda had, when himself a boy, been the pupil of a very stern anchorite named Dhoumya, and he had suffered much from his master's severity. Remembering his own unhappy youth, Veda treated Uttanka with the greatest kindness. When Uttanka grew to manhood, he remembered gratefully all the care with which Veda had taught him and all the love that his master had shewn him. So Uttanka went to Veda and said:

"O my master, tell me how I can return your kindness in some small measure. For it is the custom that the master should receive from his pupil a fee for his teaching. The pupil who does not pay the fee and the master who will not receive it are alike to blame. And in after years the fault, whether of master or of pupil, will bear fruit, and the love which they should have for each other will be absent, and hatred will take its place."

"Uttanka, my child." said the rishi, with a kindly smile, "I am in want of nothing. So let us wait until the need arises."

Uttanka waited for some weeks and then again he went to his teacher. "O my master," he said, "I pray you, tell me what I shall bring you as the fee due to you for your teaching."

"My son," said the rishi, "I am still in want of nothing. But as you again press me, I cannot again refuse you. Go therefore to my wife, your mistress, and bid her tell you what you should bring her as a pupil's fee."

Uttanka went to the rishi's wife and, telling her what his teacher had said, begged her to say what she wished, so that he might bring it to her as a return for Veda's teaching. The saintly lady thought for a moment and then spoke: "Uttanka, my son, four days hence is a sacred day. It will then be my duty to give food to many Brahmans. But I have no ornaments fit for so great an occasion. So go to King Paushya and beg from him the earrings that his queen wears."

Uttanka bowed to the feet of his teacher's wife. And although he knew that King Paushya's palace was many hundred leagues away, he set out on his errand with a brave heart. When he had walked two or three thousand paces he met a giant riding an enormous bull. The giant was many times a man's height and the bull stood as high as the largest war elephant. "Come here, Uttanka," said the giant, "and eat this food." And as the giant spoke he offered some food to the lad. But Uttanka refused, for he did not know the caste of the giant, and the food looked strange. "Nay, Uttanka," continued the giant, "eat the food and do not fear. Veda, your teacher, has often in the past taken food at my hands."

Uttanka no longer refused. He took the food from the giant's hands, ate it, and then, washing his hands, went on towards the palace of King Paushya. Suddenly although it seemed to Uttanka that he had walked but a few miles, the palace appeared in front of him. He neared the gates and the guards made way for him to pass. Then entering the palace he went boldly on until he reached the great central hall, where King Paushya was seated in state. As Uttanka drew near to the throne the courtiers stepped aside. When the boy faced King Paushya, he saluted him most humbly. "O King," he said, "I come to you as a suppliant." "Fair youth," replied the king, "ask me what you will, and, if I can, I will grant it to you." But as the king spoke, his heart sank within him, because he feared that Uttanka had come to beg his queen's earrings. "My Lord," said Uttanka humbly, "I am a pupil of the rishi Veda, and as a fee for his teaching he has asked me to bring him your queen's earrings. Give them, therefore, to me as a boon given to a suppliant."

The king could not refuse a Brahman suppliant, so he said, "Go yourself, fair youth, into the queen's chamber and ask her to give you the earrings. She will not refuse you." But the queen, knew that Uttanka was coming and would beg for her earrings. Swiftly she made herself invisible, so that when Uttanka entered her room he could not see her. After searching in vain for the queen, the boy went back to the central hall, and said, "My Lord King, you have deceived me. I went to the queen's chamber, but I did not find her."

"Fair youth," replied King Paushya, "the queen could not have hidden herself had you been wholly pure. You must, therefore, have neglected to wash your hands after your last meal."

"No, my Lord King," said Uttanka; "I washed my hands when last I ate. But I was in haste and washed them as I walked."

"Fair youth," said King Paushya, "it is a sin to wash one's hands as one walks. You are impure, and therefore the queen hid herself from you. For she is a chaste and faultless lady, and she will not shew herself to one who is not wholly pure."

Uttanka left the palace, and going to a fountain sat on the ground with his face to the East. He washed his hands and feet and bathed his face. He sipped water three times. He then wiped his face twice and touched his eyes and ears with water. Then once more he entered the queen's apartment. This time the queen did not hide herself. Pleased with the care with which Uttanka had purified himself, she saluted him courteously and said, "Welcome, reverend Sir; tell me what you wish done and I will do it for you."

"Noble Queen," said Uttanka, "I pray you to give me your earrings. I wish to give them as pupil's fee to my preceptor."

The queen took off her earrings and handed them to Uttanka. And as Uttanka took them he marvelled at their beauty. For they were heavy with pearls and rubies. And huge diamonds and sapphires and emeralds blazed back silver and blue and green in the sunlight that streamed through the window. As he gazed at them, the queen said, "Yes, fair youth, they are very beautiful. But be careful. For Takshaka, one of the princes of the snake people, desires them and will attempt to rob you of them."

"Noble Queen," said Uttanka proudly, "have no fear. For Takshaka, snake prince though he be, could never overcome me."

Uttanka left the queen's room and went back to the king. "My Lord, King Paushya," he said, "you have treated me most courteously, and I am very grateful to you. Be so good, therefore, as to accept a Brahman's thanks. For there is nothing else that I can give you."

"Fair youth," said King Paushya, "a Brahman's thanks are reward enough. But do not hasten away. I am about to sacrifice to my father's spirit. Stay and eat with me in honour of the dead."

Uttanka gladly accepted the invitation, and King Paushya and he sat down together to eat. But the food that was placed before Uttanka was cold and had been cooked by a woman with unbraided hair. One of her hairs had fallen into it and had thus made the food unclean. Uttanka was stung by the insult. "King Paushya," he said angrily, "because you have given me unclean food, you shall lose your sight." On hearing the curse. King Paushya grew as angry as Uttanka. "Brahman youth," he cried, "you have called food that is clean unclean. You will therefore never have a son born to you."

Uttanka was dismayed at the curse and begged King Paushya to see the food himself. And the king, going to where Uttanka sat, saw that the food was cold and that it had a hair in it. So he said, "Forgive me, Brahman youth. The food set before you was cold and had a hair in it, and therefore was, as you said, unclean. I spoke rashly. Forgive me, I pray you, and remove your curse, so that I may not become blind."

Uttanka's heart softened towards the King. "My curse must fall on you," he said. "You will become blind, but your sight will soon return. Be merciful also to me and take from me your curse so that I may one day have children," But King Paushya was angry with Uttanka because he had taken the earrings of his queen. "No, Uttanka," he answered scornfully. "It is well for a Brahman to call down curses and then turn them to nothing. For a Brahman's heart is as soft as butter even though his words are hard. But a Kshatrya's heart is as hard as steel even though his words, tare soft. I shall not therefore free you from my curse and it will remain with you." Then Uttanka said, "Your curse, O King, will not remain with me. You cursed me because I said that the food set before me was unclean. But the food was unclean and my words were true. Therefore it was your curse that was false and it cannot do me any harm."

With anger in his heart Uttanka left King Paushya's palace and began his journey back to the rishi Veda's hermitage. As he walked, he saw a naked beggar man flitting through the scrub. But he never could see him clearly because, whenever he glanced towards him, the beggar man vanished. After some time Uttanka grew thirsty, and paying little heed to the beggar man, looked about him for water. As he looked about him, the beggar man crept nearer and nearer. At last Uttanka saw in the distance a beautiful pool of water. At first he thought it was a mirage, but when he came closer to it he saw that it was a real pool and that a beautiful fresh breeze blew over it and rippled its surface. With a cry of joy Uttanka ran towards it. As he ran, the beggar man ran close behind him, and when Uttanka put on the ground the queen's earrings that he might more easily drink the water, the beggar man deftly picked them up and ran away. Uttanka did not at first notice the theft. But after he had drunk his fill and had bathed his face and hands he looked round and saw the beggar man running away as fast as he could with the queen's priceless earrings in his hand. Uttanka sprang to his feet and after a long chase caught up the beggar man and seized him. At the same moment the beggar man, who was really Takshaka, a prince of the snake people, once more assumed the form of a mighty snake, and with a noise that was half a hiss and half a derisive laugh vanished into a snake burrow that opened close to Uttanka's feet.

The boy now grieved that he had not heeded the queen's warning. "The beggar man," he murmured sadly to himself, "must be Prince Takshaka." He then tried to force his way through the hole by which the snake prince had gone. But his shoulders stuck in the entrance. Next he strove to widen it with a stick, but the earth fell in and blocked the hole altogether. Then he sat down by the hole and wept bitterly. The god Indra from Amravati saw the Brahman boy's grief, and seizing a thunderbolt said to it, "Go and help Uttanka." Straightway the thunderbolt left the god Indra's hand and entered the stick with which Uttanka had been vainly trying to widen the hole.

After the boy had mastered his grief, he again took up his stick and tried to open up the burrow. This time, because of Indra's thunderbolt inside the stick, the earth heaped itself readily on both sides and no longer fell in. Soon Uttanka had made a passage wide enough for him to enter. He crawled through it until he found himself in a wide, open plain covered with the palaces, houses and castles of the snake people. Uttanka walked into the snake people's city, and to win their favour began to sing their praises. He sang of their sinuous beauty, the might of Prince Takshaka's younger brother, Prince Srutasena. He then bowed to the various palaces in turn. But his flattery had no effect and his song died on his lips. For Prince Takshaka did not come out to give him back his earrings.

Just then Uttanka looked round. Suddenly he saw close to him two maidens working at a loom and weaving a cloth with black and white threads. Further away he saw six boys turning a wheel with twelve spokes. Beyond them again he saw a man standing near a horse. Uttanka, hoping to win the favour of these newcomers, began a song in praise of them. And he especially praised the man with the horse. At last the man said, "Fair youth, your song is pleasing: what good can I do to you?"

"Great lord," said Uttanka, bowing humbly before him, "the snake prince Takshaka has done me a great wrong. He has robbed me of my earrings. The boon, therefore, that I ask of you is that he and all his people shall be humbled before me."

"If that is your wish," said the man, "it is easily done. Blow upon my horse."

Uttanka blew upon the horse and instantly flames leapt out from its eyes and mouth and nose, and shot outwards until they seized upon the city of the snake people. In a few moments half of the great city was in ashes and the flames were rapidly devouring the other half. Prince Takshaka, fearing for his life and for the lives of the snake people, made his way to where Uttanka and the man stood. "O Brahman boy," he said, "I have wronged you. I own my fault; therefore pardon me. Here are your earrings. Take them back, and spare our city." Uttanka took back the earrings of the queen and placed them for safety in his garment. Instantly the flames died down and the city of the snake people was saved from total destruction.

Uttanka was overjoyed that he should have recovered the fee due to his teacher's wife. But suddenly he remembered that the days allotted to him had all but passed and that he could not return in time for his preceptress to wear the earrings when she feasted the Brahmans. He thought and thought but could discover no way to reach his hermitage before sunset. As he meditated, he heard the man with the horse say to him, "Mount my horse; it will take you at once to Veda's dwelling." Uttanka mounted the horse. It rose in the air with incredible swiftness, and in a few moments he found himself in front of Veda's hermitage. Veda's wife was bathing and dressing her hair in order that she might fitly feast the Brahmans. "Uttanka," she said to herself, "has failed to bring me the earrings for which I asked. When the sun sets I shall curse him." As she made this resolve Uttanka entered the house. His teacher's wife dressed herself, and Uttanka, saluting her humbly, gave her the earrings of King Paushya's queen.

Veda's wife thanked him; and Veda said, "Uttanka, my son, tell me how it was that you delayed so long." Uttanka answered, "O my master, Takshaka the snake prince stole my earrings, and to recover them I had to follow him into the city of the snake people." And Uttanka told Veda all that had befallen him. Then continuing he said, "Reverend sage, tell me who were the maidens who were weaving with white and black threads, and what was the wheel with the twelve spokes that six boys were turning. Who was the giant on the bull, and who was the man who gave me the wondrous horse?"

"The maidens," replied Veda, "who were weaving white and black threads were Day and Night. The wheel with the twelve spokes was the year with its twelve months. The six boys who were turning it were the six season's. The giant who rode the bull was Indra, and the bull was his mighty elephant Airavat. The food that he gave you was ambrosia, and because you ate it you passed without harm through the land of the snake people. The man who aided you to burn their city was Parjanya the god of rain, and the horse that he gave you to ride was Agni the god of fire. Truly, my son, the Immortals, because they love me, shewed you great kindness. Without their help you could never have won for my wife the earrings of King Paushya's queen."

So saying, Veda drew Uttanka towards him and embraced him. "Uttanka my son," he said, "the days of your pupilage are over. Go therefore where you will." Uttanka saluted Veda and his wife and left their hermitage. With his heart burning with hatred against Prince Takshaka he made his way to the court of King Janamejaya the Bharata, who ruled in Hastinapura.

King Janamejaya's Snake Sacrifice

KING JANAMEJAYA'S SNAKE SACRIFICE I

Once there lived in India a great king named Prajapati. He had two beautiful daughters, both of whom he gave in marriage to a king no less great than himself, Kashyapa by name. And Kashyapa cherished them both and loved them dearly. One day he said to them, "O my Queens, ask each of you a boon and it shall be granted to you." Queen Kadru, who was the elder, answered first: "My lord King, the boon that I would ask is this; let me be the mother of a thousand snakes." King Kashyapa said, "Queen Kadru, the boon is granted to you." Then he turned to Queen Vinata. "My lord King," said the younger queen, "grant that I become the mother of two sons who shall be equal in strength to the thousand snakes born of my sister." King Kashyapa said, "Queen Vinata, the boon is granted to you."