Indian Stories
by Sri Chinmoy
There was once a great King named Dasharatha. He was the father of the great Ramachandra, one of India’s Avatars. King Dasharatha was an expert in the art of archery and his teacher, Bhargava, was extremely pleased with his student. There was only one particular knowledge which Bhargava did not impart to his student. It was a special type of archery in which it is not necessary to even see the prey. By just hearing the sound of the animal, no matter where it is, the archer can shoot it. This secret knowledge Bhargava did not want to give Dasharatha because he was a Kshatriya. Although Kshatriyas are very spirited, courageous and determined, they have one weakness: they lack a disciplined life and sometimes they become a victim of restlessness. Therefore, Bhargava was unwilling to give Dasharatha the necessary skill.
But Dasharatha begged and begged his teacher. Repeatedly he declared, “I will not misuse it, I will not misuse it. I promise you.”
Finally, Bhargava acceded to the King’s entreaty. “All right,” he said, “I will give it to you, since you are begging me. But I am afraid that one day you will bring a serious calamity to yourself and to the members of your family and also to some innocent victims through your unfortunate use of this knowledge. However, as you are begging me so earnestly, how can I displease you, my son?” So Bhargava gave the secret knowledge and secret capacity to his dearest student, Dasharatha.
Dasharatha was now extremely happy and delighted, for he knew that he had mastered all the strategies of archery.
A few years passed and one day a strong desire entered into Dasharatha’s mind. He said, “Let me go into the deep forest and test the secret capacity that Bhargava has given me. Then I shall be able to discover whether I actually have learnt how to aim at animals without seeing them.”
So Dasharatha went into the forest. When evening came, a sound reached his ears, which he was sure was the trumpeting of an elephant. Dasharatha immediately pulled back his bow and let the arrow fly. Then lo and behold, this time a human sound came back to him in the night: “Mother, Mother, I am finished.”
Dasharatha followed the sound to its source and what did he see? He saw a little boy of nine who had come to fetch water from a pond. The little boy’s father, a great sage, was blind. His mother was all affection and love for her only child, her darling son. Because his parents were old, the son helped them in many ways, even at this early age. This particular evening his parents had been thirsty, so he had come to draw water from a pond near their cottage. As he was approaching the pond, the arrow came flying towards his heart and struck him down.
When Dasharatha came and saw the scene, he felt intensely miserable at what he had done. He cried out piteously, “Oh, Guru Bhargava, you were right, you were right! I was not meant for this sacred, sacred knowledge, these extraordinary capacities.”
The little boy turned his eyes to Dasharatha and said to him, “I am dying. No harm, I shall die. But do me a favour, will you? Will you go and carry this pitcher to my parents? My parents are thirsty and they are expecting me at any moment. Please, please do me this last favour. Don’t you worry about me. This is my fate, but please go and give water to my parents. They are thirsty, extremely thirsty.” Then the little boy, Sindhu, turned his face to Heaven and died.
Dasharatha burst into tears. With one hand he took up the dead body of the little boy and with the other he carried the pitcher, full to the brim. Slowly, and with a heavy heart, he made his way to the cottage of Sindhu’s parents.
When Sindhu’s father heard the sound of footsteps he said, “Sindhu, Sindhu, my Sindhu, you have come! We are waiting for you. What happened to make you so late today, my child? Both your mother and I are pinched with thirst, and you have come to quench our thirst. You are our dearest child, our only darling. Please, please, always try to be on time. Do not waste any time when you go on errands that take you away from us. We need you badly at every moment.”
Dasharatha could remain silent no longer. He said, “Oh sage, I am the wretched Dasharatha. Forgive me, forgive me. Your dearest, sweetest child, Sindhu, is no more. I have come and brought your son. But, alas, he is without life. Now, although I am the King, I am at your mercy entirely. Do anything you want with my life.”
The father and mother could not believe their ears. As soon as the mother saw her son lying dead in Dasharatha’s arms, she fainted and immediately her husband followed her. In an hour’s time, when they had both recovered, they said to Dasharatha, “O King, please do us the kindness of arranging for a pyre to be made straight away. Our last request of you is this: As soon as the pyre is lit, we wish to join our son on it. As soon as the fire starts blazing, we shall place our son on it first and then we shall also enter into the climbing flames.”
In great distress, the King said, “No, no, no! That cannot be done. One soul has died. Already I am responsible for one human being’s losing his life, and at such a tender age! Now must I be responsible for two more? Oh no, no! Please forgive me, I am the King. I will do everything that is within my limited human capacity to console you, but this thing I cannot do.”
With one voice the parents answered him. “No, King, stay we cannot. We cannot be dissuaded from joining our son. He was dearer than the dearest to us. Without him our life is meaningless and will always remain meaningless. Therefore, let us go with him.”
“Then,” Dasharatha said, “what will be my punishment?”
“No punishment,” the mother replied. “Why should we blame you? This is our fate. We forgive you. Our son forgave you and we also forgive you.”
Her husband, the sage, said, “Wait! My son has forgiven him, you can forgive him, but I cannot. Although I have done yoga and practised austerities all my life — infinitely more than my son and you — I cannot forgive him. I simply cannot!
“Dasharatha, you are responsible, totally responsible, for our son’s death and I am compelled to curse you. You too, will one day miss your son the way I am missing mine. You will be obliged to send your son into the forest because of your foolish fondness for one of your wives and, through this unthinkable behaviour, you will lose your dearest, eldest son.”
At the time of these events, Dasharatha didn’t have a son. But when he heard the curse he cried out, “O God, O God, don’t give me a son, don’t give me a son. I don’t need one, I don’t need one. It is better not to have a son and not to miss the son than to send the son into the forest to be killed. But I cannot conceive how this death could take place. How could it happen? Why would it happen? Who among my wives would be so unkind as to compel me to send my son into the forest? Impossible, impossible! Yet the curse of the sage may come true. O God, I beg You either to give me a son who will escape this curse or to give me no son at all. For to lose a son and enjoy the kingdom would be simply impossible for me. O Lord Supreme, forgive me, forgive my misdeed. Let this curse remain unfulfilled, I pray.”
But, alas, how can the curse of a great sage pass unfulfilled? There came a time when Dasharatha was indeed compelled by his second wife, Kaikeyi, to send his son, who was dearer than the dearest to him, into the forest and there the inevitable happened. It was simply impossible for Dasharatha to bear the shock of his son’s death and, lamenting the loss, he died.
God alone knows when this particular story took place. As you know, the gods and asuras always fight. They fight over Heaven, since they both want to possess it. Sometimes the asuras possess Heaven, and sometimes the gods do.
Why does it happen so? The gods lose Heaven when they misuse their freedom and enter into the enjoyment-life. At that time they are driven out by the asuras, or undivine forces. Then, when the asuras misuse their capacities and become extremely wicked, they are driven out by the cosmic gods. While we can expect this kind of undivine behaviour from the asuras, it is really painful when the cosmic gods also enter into the life of undivine enjoyment and are compelled to lose Heaven.
Now, each time the gods are driven from Heaven, they pray like anything in order to win back Heaven. They pray and pray and meditate and meditate, and gradually they regain their power. Then they drive out the asuras, who have been losing their capacities because of the undivine life they have been leading in Heaven. Then everything is reversed. The asuras pray and meditate and become stronger, while the gods become weaker because they have entered into the enjoyment life. Then finally the asuras drive out the cosmic gods. It has been going on like this from time immemorial.
Thousands of years ago there was a most powerful asura named Britrasur, who was the King of the asuras. Britrasur was able to drive the gods out of Heaven, and then he ruled Heaven mercilessly. Gradually, his subjects became very undivine and cruel, and they lived a very undivine life.
It happened that the King’s wife developed a strong desire. She wanted to bring Indra’s wife, Sachi, to her palace and make Sachi her maid. Indra was the King of the cosmic gods, but he had been driven away by Britrasur along with the other gods.
Britrasur said to his wife, “It is an excellent idea, my dear. I am sending my soldiers to arrest Sachi, and she will definitely become your maid. Your happiness is my happiness.”
When news of this reached Indra, he became furious. He said, “What an insult! My wife, my Queen to become the maid of Britrasur’s wife! True, I have been driven away by him. True, he is stronger than I am right now; he is stronger than any of the cosmic gods. But how does he dare to even think of taking my wife away from me? Such an insult I will not brook!”
So saying, Indra went to Brahma, the Creator. “O Brahma,” he pleaded, “save me, save me. Look at the audacity of Britrasur! He wants to take my wife away from me and make her his own wife’s slave.”
Brahma replied, “Indra, when you suffer from a disease, you need medicine to cure yourself. You have all enjoyed life in a way that was beyond all proportion. Now you have to pay the penalty.”
“That is true,” Indra admitted. “But Lord Brahma, how long can they torture us? And this kind of audacity — to take my wife, of all people! How can I tolerate it?”
Brahma said, “When you suffer, you come to realise others’ suffering. I am not saying that your wife should be taken away by Britrasur; far from it. But I am telling you, you must not enter and remain in the world of restless, base enjoyment. I tell you, Indra, you can get back Heaven only if a great sage offers you his boon.”
“Who will do this kind of thing?” Indra asked. “Is there anyone who can offer me such a boon?”
“Yes, yes, there is such a person,” said Brahma. “Dadichi, the son of Chyaban, can and will do it. This great son of Chyaban will offer you his boon. Your wife and your friends should go and take shelter at Dadichi’s and Chyaban’s house.”
So Indra immediately went with his wife and army to their house and related all that had passed to Dadichi. Dadichi assured him, “Do not worry, I shall do the needful.”
Upon hearing that Indra and his wife had taken shelter at Dadichi’s house, Britrasur sent his soldiers there to arrest Indra’s wife. If necessity demanded, they would arrest Indra too. But it was not so easy to arrest Indra’s wife. Since the task was proving so difficult, Britrasur himself, the leader and King of the asuras, decided to personally come to seize her. Dadichi was waiting for Britrasur when he came and said to him, “Let us see whether you can take Indra’s wife away from here. Let us see whether you can contend with my occult and spiritual power. Let us see who can destroy whom. I warn you, Britrasur, if you don’t give up this foul and base desire of yours, I shall destroy you and all your friends and soldiers with my third eye — completely and utterly.”
Britrasur remained silent but his wife said, “Oh no, I have come to take Sachi. She will massage my feet; she will become my slave, my perfect slave. What a perfect slave she will make!”
Calmly and quietly and with a broad smile, the sage Dadichi said to them, “All right, I am going to bathe in the lake and then I will return. But I tell you, before I come back if you take away Indra’s wife, then I shall destroy you all immediately. Yonder is the lake in which I shall bathe. When I return, I shall do the needful.”
So Dadichi went to the lake. An hour, two hours, a day, two days went by, and still Dadichi did not return from the lake. The days ran into weeks, with still no sign of him. Finally, Indra and his army went to the lake to see what was going on. When he did not find Dadichi, he jumped into the lake to see whether Dadichi had given up his life and was at the bottom. It was true. Dadichi had taken away his life-breath while in trance. Indra found the body of Dadichi and brought it to the surface. But although it was dead, it was full of power; it emanated power. On seeing the dead body, Britrasur took fright and ran away. Indra at first chased him. But then Brahma himself intervened and asked Indra to take a particular bone from Dadichi’s body and make a special mace, which was then known as Vajra. After the mace was completed, it flew up high into the air and from there it descended upon Britrasur’s head, destroying him at the spot where he was standing.
This is how the cosmic gods regained Heaven and were spared the loss of Indra’s wife, Sachi Devi. Indra and his soldiers and Sachi Devi all bowed down to Brahma, the Creator, with gratitude-hearts everlasting.
The young Pandavas and the young Kauravas used to learn archery from Dronacharya. Dronacharya was the supreme archer and everybody admired him not only for his skill but also for his lofty spiritual height. He taught the young Pandavas and the young Kauravas with utmost concern and love and instilled into them character, strength and manly vigour.
There came a time when the young Pandavas and Kauravas had to sit for an examination. In actuality, it was more a display of prowess than an examination and everybody was given the opportunity to show his capacity.
The grand winner was the third Pandava, Arjuna. All the people who had come to watch the events appreciated and admired Arjuna’s matchless precision and expertise. Among the spectators were an old man and his son. The son was so deeply moved by Arjuna’s capacity that he said to his father, “Father, I want to become an archer like Arjuna. I admire him so much.”
His father answered, “Ekalavya, there is nothing wrong in that, my son. You practise hard and you will also be a fine archer.”
“But how can I practise archery? I have to learn it first,” reasoned the son.
“Agreed. You have to learn.”
“But who will be my teacher? I wish to have Dronacharya as my teacher!”
“No son,” the father said. “He will not become your teacher. We come of a low caste, so how will he become your teacher?”
But his son insisted, “What is low caste, what is high caste? I see he is a very kindhearted man.”
The father said, “Yes, he is kind-hearted, but when it is a matter of teaching low caste people, he won’t do it. He will only teach the Brahmins and Kshatriyas. I tell you, we are Sudras, so he cannot teach you.”
The young man was very sad that he would not get Dronacharya as his teacher. On the way back home, he suddenly said to his father, “No, I am going to ask Dronacharya all the same. Who knows, perhaps he will teach me. So Father, you go home. I will come back alone.”
His father said, “All right, you go if you must, but let me wait for you here. You go and see.”
After his son had left, the father said, “How inspired my dear Ekalavya has been by the matchless Arjuna! I can clearly see that because of his aspiration and determination, my son is destined to become a great archer, whether Dronacharya agrees to teach him or not. It is only a matter of time.”
Inspired by Arjuna’s peerless archery skill at a royal competition, Ekalavya approached Arjuna’s archery teacher, Dronacharya. “Sir, sir, venerable sir, will you please teach me archery? I want to become just like Arjuna. I have such tremendous admiration for Arjuna. Will you teach me archery?”
Dronacharya replied, “Yes, I will teach you. But please tell me who you are.”
The young man said, “My name is Ekalavya and my father is the chief caretaker.”
Dronacharya looked disturbed. “Oh, you come of a very low family. I am sorry, but you have to forgive me, I cannot teach you.”
The young man protested, “High caste, low caste! You are such a learned man, such a man of wisdom, and yet you are saying things like this. I was born in a low family, but if I do good things — great and mighty things — will it not compensate my birth?”
“You are speaking like a true philosopher, and let me say that I admire your philosophy. It is not your fault that you came into a low caste family. And if you have aspiration and determination, then naturally you are bound to succeed.”
The young man said, “That is what I am saying. It was my fate. What can I do if I was destined to take birth in a low caste family? But if, with my aspiration and determination, I do something great and good, will it not please the world? Will it not please God?”
“Yes, certainly it will. I appreciate your philosophy. I see eye to eye with you. But I cannot fulfil your desire. I cannot teach you. You try! With your heart’s aspiration and your unfaltering determination, you try. You will succeed one day, my boy. Of that, I assure you. If I do it, the Brahmins and my friends will all hate me. They will throw me out of society. I am an old man. At this age I don’t want to be thrown out of society. So, make no mistake, I fully agree with your philosophy, but I am telling you that I am unable to fulfil your desire. You can call it my weakness or anything you want, but society is made like that. It has its own way of thinking. I do not want to be the one to justify it. I don’t want to go into the reasons why the Kshatriyas and the Brahmins should not and must not mix with lower caste people. That will be a very long story, and it will be a painful one for you. So I don’t want to tell it. You please go, and with your own aspiration and determination you will succeed.”
Sorrowfully, the young man turned towards home. When he came upon his father, who had been waiting for him, he said, “Father, you were right. This old man will not teach me. Caste, caste, caste! Father, why were you born in a low caste?”
“What could I do,” his father said. “My parents brought me into the world as I brought you into the world. Did I know I was going to take birth in a low caste family? Son, if we love God, then God will always please us and fulfil us. So if you want to learn the skills of archery, pray to God. God Himself will teach you.”
“Yes, Father,” Ekalavya said, “You are right. I have faith that because of my devotion to Dronacharya, God will definitely teach me.”
The young Ekalavya was determined to become a great archer. Although the master-archer Dronacharya could not teach him because he was of a low caste, the young man was adamant.
“I will pray to God,” he said to his father. “Day and night I will pray. Drona’s heart is good, but his mind was not good when I approached him. His heart sympathised with me, but his mind was afraid of what society would say if he taught a Sudra. But I want to have him as my teacher.
“So I have resolved to make a statue of Drona out of mud and clay, and I shall worship that statue as my teacher, my only teacher. From this statue I will get inspiration and be able to learn.”
His father said, “That is a wonderful idea. If you retain that kind of faith in your teacher, my son, I am sure you will succeed.”
So the young man made a statue that looked exactly like Drona. Constantly he used to pray to Drona and receive inspiration from him through the statue. In this way the young man was able not only to acquire the skills of archery, but to so master them that he became absolutely unique. He even learned how to stop the barking of dogs in such a way that his arrow pierced the dog’s mouth and stuck there. He had that kind of capacity. He was an unparalleled archer and the feat that he could perform with dogs not even Arjuna himself could dream of doing.
One day Ekalavya was meditating in the forest. A dog started barking and it was disturbing his meditation. So he picked up his bow and shot some arrows into the dog’s mouth. The dog, silenced, but not bleeding, ran away.
It so happened that Arjuna and the Pandava brothers were also in the forest, amusing themselves. When they saw the dog passing by, no one paid any attention to it. But Arjuna noticed to his astonishment that the dog had arrows inside its mouth but was not bleeding. He said, “Who can be such a great archer?” Overcome by curiosity, he followed the dog, which took him directly to Ekalavya, who was in a meditative consciousness.
Arjuna approached Ekalavya and, pointing at the dog, inquired, “Who has done this?”
“I have done it,” Ekalavya said.
“You! You have such capacity? Who taught you?”
“My Guru.”
“Who is your Guru?”
“My Guru is Drona,” said Ekalavya.
“Drona is your Guru in archery!” Arjuna exclaimed. “He is my Guru!”
“Yes, Drona is also my Guru.”
“When did he teach you, then? He is always with us in the kingdom.”
“Oh no,” said Ekalavya. “Here he is. Look, I have made a statue of him and I worship him in this statue. It was he who gave me the inspiration and the capacity to do this.” Arjuna said quickly, “Thank you. I am very happy, very happy. I am very proud of you.”
Although Arjuna felt sad that Ekalavya had far surpassed him in skill, he was very moved by the devotion and faith that the young man had for Dronacharya.
When Prince Arjuna discovered that the untouchable, Ekalavya, who lived in the forest, was more skilled in archery than he was, he was very disturbed. He left the forest and ran home, furious. He went straight to Dronacharya and said to him, “You have deceived me.”
“Remain calm and quiet, my son,” said Dronacharya. “Why are you shouting and screaming?”
“You have deceived me! I have just seen someone who knows archery far better than I do. You told me that I was the best archer and now, look, you have deceived me, you have fooled me!”
Dronacharya affirmed, “No, I can never deceive you; I can never fool you.”
“But you have done it,” declared Arjuna. “In the forest there is a young man by the name of Ekalavya. He has made a statue of you which he worships. From the statue he has derived such a unique capacity. With his arrows he can stop the barking of a dog, which I can’t do. And then, something else! He is able to shoot arrows through the mouth of a dog without making the dog bleed. Look at his capacity! I don’t have that capacity. You told me I was the best! Now what can I do? I feel miserable, miserable.”
Then Drona said, “Come with me, my son.” And he took Arjuna into the forest to where Ekalavya lived. Drona went up to Ekalavya and said, “You have such capacity in archery. Who taught you? I have heard from Arjuna that you have stopped the barking of a dog.”
“Yes,” replied Ekalavya. “I was meditating most soulfully on you and the dog was bothering me. Therefore, I got annoyed with the dog and punished it so that it could not bark. But, in all sincerity, I did not know that the dog would not bleed. I was also surprised when I saw that there was no blood. So, this is all your grace, Dronacharya. I give all credit to you.”
Drona said, “I am so proud of you, my boy. Now tell me, if it is true that I have done everything for you, then will you not give me a sacerdotal fee? You know that when you learn from a teacher, the teacher gives everything to the student. So it is customary for the student to give the teacher a reward.”
“Yes, yes, I will give, I will give,” Ekalavya replied earnestly. “Anything you want you may have. I am so grateful to you, so grateful to you.”
“Are you sure that you will give me anything I want?”
“Yes, without any difficulty whatsoever. Unreservedly and unconditionally I shall give.”
“Then give me, my son, your right thumb,” said Dronacharya.
“My right thumb!” cried Ekalavya. “If I give you my right thumb, then what am I going to do? Will I remain an archer anymore? No, I must keep my promise. You take my right thumb. You be happy. I am so grateful to you. You gave me the capacity to become an excellent archer and I will be so proud that I am able to fulfil your desire. So please, please, take my right thumb. I am giving you my right thumb.”
With these words he cut off his right thumb and gave it to Dronacharya. Then he said, “As an archer I could have been known the world over. Everybody would have come to know of me. But now I will be known as a devotee of yours. I am sure that to be a devotee is infinitely more meaningful and fruitful in my life than to be an archer.”
Arjuna felt miserable that this took place because of him. He said to Ekalavya, “Please forgive me, I am the culprit, I am the culprit.”
But Drona interrupted him, “No, you are not the culprit. I want to tell you one thing, I want to tell both of you. Arjuna, my son, today I wanted to show you that you have always been my dearest disciple — dearer to me than my own soul. In order to prove to the world that I can do everything to please my dearest disciple, I transformed you into an archer without equal in this land. But here also I wish to say that, in the inner worlds, Ekalavya will forever remain immortal because of his supreme sacrifice. No other human being could have made this kind of sacrifice.”
There were two sisters, Kadru and Binate, who were both married to the sage Kashyapa. The sisters were extremely fond of each other. Kashyapa used to spend most of his time in meditation while his wives did the housework. Everything they sacrificed gladly, and Kashyapa was very pleased to have them as his wives.
Once, Kashyapa left for a few days of serious meditation. While he was away, the two sisters were talking, when unfortunately they entered into a serious dispute over the colour of Indra’s elephant, Oirabat. Binate said it was white while Kadru said it was black. Each was so certain of being right that both agreed that whoever was wrong would become the slave of the other. This was the agreement they came to.
Kadru, who had three sons, asked them about that particular elephant. “You have seen Indra’s Oirabat so many times. Can you tell me the colour of that elephant?”
The sons said, “Yes, Mother, it is white, pure white, like the moon.”
Kadru cried out, “O God, what have I done? Now I have to become the slave of my sister. Save me, save me!”
“How can we save you?” they asked. “Why did you make that kind of promise? We are extremely sorry, and we will feel very miserable when you become Mother Binate’s maid, but we are helpless.”
“You are not helpless,” Kadru said. “Do me a favour. Tomorrow morning Indra’s elephant will come to the lake. You and a few friends must wear black garments and carry black pieces of cloth with you. Then, when the elephant starts approaching, cover it with the black. When Binate and I come to see it, I will say, ‘Look, it is definitely black.’ We will hear the sound of the elephant, but from a distance it will look black.”
Early in the morning while it was still somewhat dark, the elephant came to the lake. Binate saw the pieces of cloth in front of the elephant. “Yes, it is black,” she cried out. “I have lost!”
Kadru said, “Now you have to be my slave, my maidservant, for life.”
When Kashyapa returned from his few days of meditation, he saw that Binate had become Kadru’s slave and was sad and miserable. Kashyapa himself felt so sad. “How can this kind of thing happen?” he asked.
When Kashyapa heard all about it, he said to Binate, “Kadru’s sons have deceived you. Actually, the elephant is white.”
Binate could not believe her ears. “I am so sad to hear that my dear sister Kadru and her sons have deceived me. But now it is too late. I have committed myself to being her slave. A promise is a promise.”
Kashyapa said, “Binate, you should have had more patience and waited for the elephant to come nearer. Then you would have discovered their trick and not committed yourself to be her slave forever.”
Binate cried, “What shall I do now?”
“Wait for the hour,” Kashyapa consoled her. “Although it is unfair, be patient. One day you will also have one or two sons. Your children will either take revenge or do something to illumine Kadru and her sons and make the family happy again.”
In three or four years Binate was blessed with a child, but the birth was premature. Binate became very upset: “This is the result of my patience?” she cried. “How can I have a premature child? This child is supposed to save me. It is impossible.” In her anger she kicked the child and the child became deformed.
“What have I done? What have I done?” she screamed.
Again Kashyapa consoled her. “You should have had more faith in my prophecy. Still my prophecy will one day prove true. Have patience: wait and see. Your sons will save you.”
“I don’t need any more children,” she said. “I am ready to remain all the time a slave to my sister.”
When her son was still very young, he said to Binate, “Mother, I fully understand that the reason you kicked me was because you were mad with grief. Torture yourself no longer about what you have done, and do not feel sad that you have become your own sister’s slave. First Kadru and you were sisters, then you were married to the same sage. You were very happy, and now your life is all suffering and misery. But a time will come when you will be free from this bondage.”
Two years later, Binate was blessed with another son, Arun, who was extremely bright spiritually. Binate was very happy to have this son.
Kashyapa said, “This son will really help you.”
Indeed, the brightness of the child frightened and tortured Kadru and her children and they were terribly jealous of him. As Arun grew older, his illumination compelled the stepbrothers to surrender, and they began leading a divine life.
One day Binate said to her son, “Arun, I know you have the power to compel my sister to free me from my promise. But please, let your older brother be cured by you instead. I am ready to remain a slave forever.”
But his older brother said to Arun, “No, I am ready to remain deformed. Let my mother be freed. You must not save me; save my mother.”
Arun replied, “There is no reason why you, Mother, have to remain a slave. My stepbrothers have become divine. Kadru, too, is ready to receive illumination.”
Very soon, Kadru freed Binate from her old promise, and again the two sisters became very close. The stepbrothers and brothers also became very fond of each other, and in a short time the oldest son of Binate was cured.
Kashyapa said, “Because of your patience, Binate, one of your sons has freed you, as I predicted. He has transformed and illumined Kadru and her sons. You lost the feeling of oneness over an elephant. But the past is dust. Now let us again enjoy the happiness of a oneness-family.”
Immediately Indra’s elephant Oirabat appeared outside Kashyapa’s home, and his two wives bowed down at the sage’s feet: “O Kashyapa, O great sage, we clearly see now that in spite of our ignorance you have illumined us. You have shown us that patience illumines and oneness ever lives in the heart of God’s creation.”
The greatest of all sacrificial rites is Ashwamedha, the horse sacrifice. In performing Ashwamedha, the owner of a horse will meditate most soulfully and offer some mantras to the horse. Then he will allow the horse to leave his home and roam all over the countryside. The owner has to fight with whoever captures the horse and bring him back. Then only the sacrifice can take place.
Once a great king named Sagar wanted to perform this rite. Already King Sagar had performed Ashwamedha ninety-nine times and this was to be his hundredth time. Indra, the King of the Gods, had only been able to perform this particular sacrifice one hundred times, and he became terribly jealous of the King.
Since Indra wanted to ruin the King’s sacrifice, he stole the horse. Sagar sent his son, with a large army, to find the culprit and Indra was afraid he would be caught. So he entered into the nether world, first tying up the horse near a great sage who was meditating. After some time, Sagar’s soldiers saw the animal near the sage, and they thought it was the sage who had stolen the horse.
The soldiers said, “This sage is so unwise to keep the horse tied so close to him. He should have at least let the horse go away. Now it is obvious who the thief is.” So they started beating the sage most mercilessly. Suddenly the sage opened up his third eye and in a fleeting minute he killed Sagar’s son and the entire army of six thousand soldiers.
When his son and the army did not return, King Sagar sent his grandson to find out where they were. The grandson looked for the horse and finally found the animal near the sage. The sage told him what had happened.
“Please, you have to return the horse,” the boy said.
“No,” said the sage. “Tell your grandfather, the King, that I won’t tolerate this kind of thing. His soldiers struck me mercilessly, thinking I was the thief.”
The boy asked, “O sage, what is to be done now? So many good men have died.”
The sage replied, “Only if the river Ganga comes down from Heaven and touches these dead bodies with its water will they be revived. But for that you will have to pray and meditate for years.”
The grandson returned to the King with the sad news. King Sagar immediately agreed to pray and meditate to please the Goddess Ganga. He began praying and meditating intensely, but in a few years’ time he died.
Then the grandson, Angshuman, began meditating, but in a few years he also died. His son, Dilip, prayed and meditated for a few years and also died. Then his son, Bhagirath, also began praying and meditating most earnestly, and finally his prayer was heard by the Goddess Ganga.
Ganga appeared before him and said, “Before you, your father’s father and also his grandfather all prayed to me. Their accumulated prayer and your prayer have touched the very depth of my heart; therefore, I am going to come down. But if I descend to earth with my tremendous speed, I will destroy the world. There has to be someone who is spiritually very great to hold back my speed and power, and that can only be Shiva.”
Bhagirath then went and prayed to Shiva: “When Ganga descends most powerfully to rescue my family’s army, please restrain the flow of her waters. Only you are powerful enough to perform this feat.”
Shiva was very pleased with Bhagirath’s prayer and he agreed. “I will hold her back with my matted hair.”
When the Goddess Ganga began descending most powerfully, Shiva held her back with his matted hair. But his hair was so thick that Ganga’s waters could not flow down to earth at all, and the dead bodies were not being revived.
So Shiva took out one of the hairs from his head so that the water could flow through. The flow was not as powerful as it would have been if Shiva had not interfered, but it was still very powerful. It descended and passed near a cottage of a sage named Jahnu, and began washing away his cottage.
The sage got mad and started drinking the water, until he had drunk the entire amount that had descended. So all the water entered into Jahnu and none of it touched the soldiers. Bhagirath begged Jahnu to release the water. So Jahnu emptied the water through his mouth and the river continued flowing. Finally it touched the spot where the dead bodies were.
As soon as the water touched them, all the soldiers revived. They were exactly the same age as when they had died.
Because of this story, other names of the Ganga are Jahnabi and Bhagirathi.
Published in Great Indian Meals: Divinely Delicious and Supremely Nourishing, part 5
