by Sudha Murty
Vishvamitra pounced on the king’s words and said, ‘In that case, give your kingdom to me. Bring me water and let’s perform the ceremony of the abdication of your throne.’
Without a moment’s hesitation, Harishchandra gave away his kingdom to the sage.
After the abdication, Vishvamitra said, ‘Charity is incomplete without dakshina.’
‘Tell me, dear sage, what would you like as dakshina?’ Harishchandra asked.
‘I want a really tall person to stand on an elephant and throw a coin to the ground. Then I want a heap of gold as tall as the point from where the person was standing on the elephant.’
‘Sure. I will give this to you as soon as I reach the palace,’ said Harishchandra.
‘But your kingdom is already mine. So your treasury is no longer yours. You cannot take anything from it,’ the sage remarked.
‘I will take it from my personal share of wealth to give to you,’ said Harishchandra.
‘When a kingdom is given away, your personal wealth is included in it,’ the sage rebutted.
‘Let me think about this, Sage. I will give the money to you. But please allow me to now go back to the kingdom and inform my family.’
‘I will come with you, Harishchandra, so you can formally hand over the kingdom to me.’
Harishchandra nodded.
When Harishchandra reached Ayodhya, he called his wife and his son and apprised them of the latest developments. They were no longer queen and prince, and could no longer live in the palace.
Vishvamitra was expecting Taramati to be livid about her husband’s actions and try to persuade the king to regain his kingdom somehow. However, nothing of the sort happened.
Taramati did not question her husband. Instead, she removed her as well as her son’s royal jewellery and stood up. ‘I agree with you, dear husband. A word of honour must be kept, come what may.’
Harishchandra turned to Vishvamitra and said, ‘O Sage, I have heard that Kashi is a prosperous and rich city. So I will go there with my family and come back with your money once I have it.’
‘Kashi is quite far, Harishchandra, and you might take years to return. Or you might not come back at all! But the gold has been promised. So I will send my disciple Nakshatraka with you. Give the money to him by the end of the month. For now, I will begin my rule here.’
So Harishchandra, Taramati and Rohitashva, along with Nakshatraka, began their journey to Kashi. The king’s subjects lined up along the road and sobbed at the state of their king. They were furious at Vishvamitra, but the sage didn’t heed them. Nakshatraka was as cunning as his teacher was and troubled the family frequently, demanding food, water and frequent rest stops. Taramati had never travelled such a long distance by foot and soon felt weary and tired. Young Rohitashva was also finding it hard to continue the journey without enough food and water. But neither mother nor son complained. Harishchandra was distressed at the hardship that had befallen his family, but he was determined to keep his word to Vishvamitra.
Vishvamitra created illusionary thieves, beasts, hurricanes, tornadoes and flash floods in an effort to propel Taramati to plead with her husband and stop him from proceeding with his plan. But Taramati remained stoic through the journey and chanted Kashi Vishwanath’s name (another name for Lord Shiva) until the illusions reached their logical end.
After a long and tumultuous journey, the four finally reached Kashi.
It was the last day of the month. Nakshatraka began asking for the money. ‘Give it quickly or accept defeat,’ he pestered Harishchandra.
With no respite in sight and no end to the pressure, the only way Harishchandra could think of to repay his debt was to sell himself and his family. It was the hardest decision he had made, and he spent a long time deliberating over it. Finally, he made a public announcement. ‘My wife, my child and I are up for sale. Whoever buys us must give us the gold that we want. I want a tall person to stand on an elephant and throw a coin to the ground. Then I want a heap of gold as tall as the tallest point from where the person was standing on the elephant.’
An old man approached them. ‘My wife is ill and I need a lady servant to cook and clean the house. For your wife, I will pay part of the money that you need.’
Taramati began sobbing.
‘I really don’t want a crying servant. I need someone who will work sincerely,’ said the old man, seeming doubtful at Taramati’s tears.
‘No, no,’ said Taramati and wiped her tears away. ‘I will gladly come to work for you, but please allow me to bring my son too.’
‘That is going to be a problem. Then I will have to spend to feed your child too,’ replied the old man.
‘Sir, it is difficult for me to part with my child,’ begged Taramati. ‘I assure you that he will help with the domestic chores around the house and will earn his meals.’
Harishchandra became overwhelmed at this exchange, as the old man nodded and bought both his wife and his son. Nakshatraka, who was standing a short distance away, said to the old man, ‘Keep the gold with you. My teacher Vishvamitra will come and collect it one day.’
Taramati cast one last affectionate look at her husband and, without saying a word, turned around, laid an arm around her son and followed the old man to his home.
Left alone, Harishchandra announced again, ‘I am ready to be a lifelong slave to anyone who agrees to give me the remainder of the money that I need.’
A stout and hefty man stepped out of the crowd and stood in front of him. ‘I am Veerababu, and I am the owner and caretaker of Manikarnika Ghat, the burning ground of the holy city. I need a servant to help me with my duties on the ground. I will buy your lifelong services.’
Veerababu pulled out the money and bought Harishchandra. Nakshatraka felt a twinge of sadness to see a good king becoming a slave to the owner of a burning ground. But he had to fulfil his duty to Vishvamitra. Nakshatraka said to Veerababu, ‘Keep the gold with you. My teacher, Sage Vishvamitra, will come and collect it one day.’
Saying thus, Nakshatraka departed.
Veerababu turned to Harishchandra. ‘As I said, I own Manikarnika Ghat. Legend has it that when Sati, the first wife of Lord Shiva, died in her father’s yagna, and Shiva picked up her body and danced the Tandava Nritya in grief and anger, her earrings fell and landed in this area, and so it was named Manikarnika. People prefer to breathe their last at Kashi because of the belief that if their ashes are immersed in the river Ganga, they will go to heaven. Come now, your duties are mainly at the ground. I charge a fixed fee for the cremation rites—a few gold coins for me, and one gold coin and a loincloth for you. Never perform cremation rites free of charge. You must be available day and night, as death has no time and a dead body can arrive at any time. You must also ensure that no animal enters the ground or desecrates it. These are standing instructions.’
Harishchandra nodded and understood that he would have to stay at Manikarnika Ghat itself.
Soon, Veerababu also departed and Harishchandra was left alone.
As Harishchandra stared at the river Ganga flowing below the ghat, he thought of his kingdom on the banks of the river Sarayu and his capital city of Ayodhya. How fortunes had changed and had turned him from a loved king to a pauper! He felt disheartened thinking of his wife and son and wondered what they were doing at that moment. He felt responsible for their hardship—they were suffering for the sole reason that they were his family. Yet, even though his heart was heavy, his conscience was clear because he had kept his promise. Thus, Harishchandra began his new life.
Meanwhile, Taramati had already begun working in the old man’s house. She toiled from morning to evening. Despite her efforts, the old couple always found fault with her work. Rohitashva also worked very hard to complete his chores, which lasted all day. He had been a prince, whose sole focus had been studying and learning the art of warfare, while he was waited on hand and foot, but now he was a woodcutter and a cleaner. He wasn’t given enough food, and Taramati was worried t
hat her son’s weakening body would eventually give way. Still, mother and son dealt with their situation as best as they could.
One day, there was a shraadha in the old man’s home, and he told Rohitashva to go collect firewood. The young boy took the axe and went to the forest nearby. A snake, that was created by Vishvamitra, bit him as he chopped wood, and Rohitashva died instantly.
A few people who witnessed the incident came running to Taramati with the news. A horrified Taramati begged the old man, ‘Please, sir, allow me to go and see my child.’
The old man replied, ‘It is the shraadha today, and there is a lot to be done. I don’t have time for this. Do whatever you want, but come back before the shraadha starts.’
Taramati hurriedly made her way to the forest, fearful and sobbing. When she saw the body of her dead child, she prayed to Kashi Vishwanath. ‘O Lord, haven’t you given us enough tests and tasks to deal with? And now, you have taken my child away from me. How can you let him die this way?’
Taramati cried and cried until her tears ran dry. Then she remembered that she had promised the old man she would return quickly. So she carried Rohitashva’s dead body to Manikarnika Ghat.
The cremation ground was deserted save a man working there. He had his back towards her. Taramati called out to him, ‘Sir, will you allow me to burn my child’s body here?’
‘Do you have the money for it?’ the man asked, without turning to look at her.
‘No, sir, I am a servant in a rich man’s house, and I don’t have any money with me.’
‘Then the cremation cannot happen here,’ he responded.
Taramati began crying. ‘Oh, Rohitashva! Look at what fate has done to you. You were born a prince but you have died a pauper, and I don’t even have enough for your last rites. I don’t know what to do!’
On hearing Taramati’s words, Harishchandra realized it was his wife. He steeled himself and, still keeping his back to her, said, ‘You have a mangalasutra around your neck. You can sell that and bring the money.’
Taramati looked up, surprised. ‘How did you see my mangalasutra? It is a magical necklace and only two people in the world can see it—Lord Vishwanath of Kashi and my husband. So who are you?’
Harishchandra turned around, and Taramati saw that he was none other than her husband. Harishchandra looked at Taramati and broke down. He sobbed bitterly. Then he composed himself and said, ‘Our son is gone. But you have to bring the money for his last rites. I can forgo my fee, but I can’t do so for my master’s share. Please, Taramati, bring the money from your master.’
‘The old man doesn’t even give us enough food. Do you really think that he will give me money for our son’s cremation? Have mercy, dear husband. Rohitashva is your son too. We can’t keep dead bodies in this state for too long. Please, I beg you, allow him some dignity and let him rest here.’
Harishchandra shook his head with sadness.
Taramati knew that he would not change his mind. So she resigned herself to the will of the lord and said, ‘I will see what I can do. I will leave his body here for now and come back later.’
As she made her way back to the old man’s home, she saw a young boy of the same age as her son lying dead on the ground. In her sorrow and confusion, she mistook the boy to be her son. She sat down, placed the body of the boy on her lap and asked, ‘O Rohitashva, are you alive again?’
The body really belonged to the prince of Kashi. With yet another of Vishvamitra’s tricks, the prince of Kashi had been kidnapped and killed by thieves. The royal guards had been searching for the prince and came across Taramati sitting with the prince’s lifeless body. Assuming that she was the prince’s murderer, they arrested her and dragged her to the king. ‘Your Majesty, here is the demon woman who has killed the prince.’
The king was grief-stricken, but when the queen saw her son’s dead body, she fainted with shock.
Taramati was still too distressed and not in the right state of mind. She blabbered, ‘My son has been bitten by a snake, and my husband won’t allow me to perform his last rites without paying the money for the cremation.’
The king was too upset to be objective. Without thinking further, he announced, ‘Behead this woman. Take her to Manikarnika Ghat and execute her there.’
The soldiers took Taramati to Manikarnika Ghat and informed Harishchandra that he had to execute this criminal. Harishchandra looked at Taramati, and his face turned as white as a sheet. He was not prepared for this. He knew that Taramati had not slain the prince, but he had been ordered to do so and it was his duty to obey the king.
With eyes closed, he lifted his sword, intending to bring it down on Taramati’s head.
Suddenly, flower petals began raining from the sky. As he felt the soft petals on his body, Harishchandra opened his eyes. Sage Vasishtha stood before him.
‘Harishchandra, you have proven your worth. I am proud of you.’
Harishchandra was bewildered, as he tried to understand what was going on. Taramati too was astonished.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harishchandra saw Rohitashva stir. The boy opened his eyes and sat up, almost as if from a deep sleep.
By then Vishvamitra’s illusion had also reached an end, and the king of Kashi came running to the scene with his son in tow, perfectly alive and healthy.
Vishvamitra appeared with Nakshatraka and addressed Harishchandra. ‘I am proud of you. I apologize for having put you through a challenging test, but you handled every situation without resentment or anger. You are truly the most dharmic king of all. Till the world exists, and with Lord Vishwanath as a witness, you will now be known as Satya Harishchandra, and Manikarnika Ghat will become one of the most sacred ghats of the land. I return your kingdom to you and, in addition, you will also share half the punya of my good deeds.’
Harishchandra accepted the blessings of the sages and headed back to Ayodhya with his family. He ruled the kingdom wisely for a long time.
The nickname Nakshatraka is used today for a person who follows another person around irritating him or her, and the phrase ‘Don’t follow me like Nakshatraka!’ is often used in this context.
If you go to Kashi (Varanasi) today, you can see the piles of bodies awaiting their turn for cremation at Manikarnika Ghat. The ashes are then immersed in the river Ganga. The descendants of Veerababu still retain the ownership of the ghat. And of course, Lord Vishwanath remains the eternal witness!
The Tree of Gold
Raghu, an ancestor of Rama and a famous warrior and popular Suryavamshi king, had a vast kingdom that extended over most of what today comprises India and Pakistan as well as parts of Central Asia. Whenever he won a war, he would perform a big yagna and give alms to whoever approached him.
In the kingdom lived a poor boy named Koustheya. Koustheya was an excellent student, and his teacher imparted knowledge to him without any expectations of gurudakshina from a boy as poor as him.
In time, Koustheya completed his education and asked his teacher, ‘Guruji, what gurudakshina may I give you? Please tell me.’
‘I know your background,’ said the guru, ‘and I don’t want any fees. You have been a wonderful disciple. Go ahead and spread your knowledge to others. I will consider that my fees. I bless you, my child. Now, find your path and serve your destiny.’
But Koustheya insisted. ‘I believe that education is incomplete until I pay the teacher’s fees. I must give you something.’
The guru resisted, but Koustheya was insistent. Finally, the guru lost his temper and said, ‘If you are so adamant, then give me ten lakh gold coins. If you can’t, then admit that you can’t pay, take my blessings and be on your way.’
Koustheya was caught by surprise. He had not expected his teacher to ask for such an amount. He grew worried. ‘How will I procure so much wealth? Perhaps I should have left when my teacher told me to, but my ego got in the way. Now I have to try my best,’ he thought.
‘With your blessings, Guruji, I will get this money and giv
e it to you,’ said Koustheya and departed.
As he journeyed through a thick forest, Koustheya thought about the task ahead of him. ‘Whom can I approach?’ he wondered. Suddenly, he thought of King Raghu. He was certain that the king wouldn’t turn him away empty-handed. So Koustheya made his way to Raghu’s palace.
Once Koustheya reached the palace, King Raghu received him respectfully with pots of water. When Koustheya saw the earthen pots, he became disappointed. A king carrying such pots must not have much to give his guests. The king, however, was hospitable and asked Koustheya the reason for his visit. ‘O learned man, your wish is my command. Why have you come to visit me?’
Hesitantly, Koustheya said, ‘I seek ten lakh gold coins.’
King Raghu was not perturbed. ‘I have just completed my yagna and donated all that I could,’ he said. ‘Now, I am left only with these earthen vessels. But it is my duty to fulfil your desire. Please give me some time to arrange this money for you.’
That night, Raghu lay in bed and wondered, ‘Where should I get this money from? Perhaps Kubera, the lord of wealth, will be able to help. I am a king and cannot ask for alms or money. So the only choice I have is to fight Kubera and defeat him. Then I can emerge victorious and hand over the money to Koustheya.’
The next day, Raghu marched north with a few select soldiers to Kubera’s abode. They travelled all night and halted outside Alkavati, Kubera’s capital city.
Kubera had many spies who observed all that was happening in his kingdom, day and night. Soon enough, a few spies ran back to the palace and warned him. ‘Your Highness, the great warrior King Raghu has come prepared to wage a war against you, and it is all because of a promise that he made to a sage assuring him that he would give him ten lakh gold coins.’
Kubera was surprised to learn about Raghu’s intentions and used his magical powers to locate Raghu, who was sleeping under a shami tree in the forest. Quickly, he transformed the leaves of the tree into gold coins.