He deliberately used the honorific to stress that he was the great-grandson of Brahma and hence bound to his orders through family ties. He looked at the leader of the Vasus for his estimation of the situation, for they were both bound to the Creator by the same relation.
Predictably enough, Chandra was cautious in his approach. ‘I condemn this misuse of the elements by someone who is not designated by the Supreme Lord to perform such a function. Yet, I admire the efforts of this man . . . ’
Shakra cut him off mid-sentence, knowing well that Chandra’s view could tilt the opinion for or against what he had in mind and said, ‘Well said, Chandra, we know it is a difficult position for you to take, for the concerned man belongs to your own lineage, yet you show solidarity with the brotherhood and we respect you for that.’
Everyone nodded, sharing words of sympathy, and Shakra knew that, by saying this, he had put an end to whatever support Chandra may have intended to give Vishwamitra’s efforts. He looked towards Varun and Vayu, silently nudging them for support.
Vayu was a Vasu as well so he pitched in first. ‘I completely agree with the assessment of our leader Chandra; such an abuse of the panch mahabhoot as displayed by this Chandravanshi is not acceptable.’
Shakra smiled for he knew his friend had purposefully used the dynastic terminology to further stress the indirect responsibility of Chandra in the affair. Looking around, he observed with satisfaction that the general sentiment of the assembly was with him.
However, Mitra, the patron god of friendship, had a different of opinion. ‘Do we have to take this as an act of aggression? Why don’t we just shake hands and sign a pact with this Manav to show our appreciation of his prodigious achievement? We have many worlds to take care of; what difference does it make if this man looks after a few more which, by the way, were never under our domain to begin with?’
Varun countered this argument by saying, ‘No, my softhearted friend, we cannot let anyone, least of all this human, get away with what you have rightly proclaimed a prodigious achievement. Imagine what would happen if he continues to do so in the future and tomorrow ends up cloning even us Devas to run this creation of his. What would be our position in the hierarchy of this universe if such a situation were to present itself?’
This was a new thought and everyone sat pondering it. Shakra took the opportunity to prod Surya. ‘What does my youngest brother think of this situation? You ought to have some opinion about it since it is a Suryavanshi who started this whole mess!’
Surya looked at his eldest brother and nodded meekly. ‘I know, jyesth, that even as Vishwamitra is putting Chandra into a dock, my descendant Satyavrat is equally to blame. I do not agree with his actions, however, and give you my unconditional support.’
Shakra gave him a curt nod; after all in case of a confrontation, it was imperative he had the support of his own family before he relied on the other factions. He then looked towards the leader of Rudras and asked, ‘Does my dear friend Shambhu have anything to add to the discussion?’
The chief Rudra was built like a wrestler and did not like to talk much. In most such meetings, he sat brooding and gave his opinion only at the end of the discussion.
On being asked a direct question, he regarded Shakra with his three eyes and answered, ‘I believe the current situation has come to pass not only because of the unfulfilled ambitions of these Manavs but also because of the misreading and mishandling of it in the initial stages by our lord.’
Shakra felt himself turn red with embarrassment but he knew someone was bound to raise this point at some point of time, so the sooner he got it out of the way, the better it was.
To diffuse the negative emotions he said, ‘I agree, I may have reacted prematurely but the very act that we sit discussing today more than vindicates the actions taken by me. If I had not done what I did then, who knows, we may have had to confront this man’s audacity much earlier!’
He looked directly in the eyes of Shambhu who kept looking right back. After a while the impasse broke and the Rudra conceded gracefully, ‘Possible . . . ’
Shakra was relieved that he had avoided a stalemate with the hulk by owning up to his impulsive actions, for he knew how difficult it would be to get Shambhu to change his stand once he took one. Aloud he said, ‘So we all stand unified in our reading of the situation that it is dangerous for our future. Now the question arises as to what can be done to mitigate this danger?’
When no resolution was offered, he said, ‘If no one has a concrete solution, I offer to present in front of the council a means to regain our lost prestige.’ He was careful not to sound too presumptuous and self-indulgent and it seemed to work because he got murmurs of encouragement from the gathering.
Looking at the leader of the Vasus, he said, ‘Since the current situation has been created by one of your descendants, the prime responsibility for its correction lies on your shoulders. You cause the sap to flow in plants and the blood and lymph in animals to ensure their nourishment. You are the master of all fluids running through the organisms on Earth. Just as you cause the tides in Earth’s oceans, I suggest you bring about a turmoil in Vishwamitra’s mind and make him do things he otherwise may not do given the recent growth in his spiritual quotient.’
Chandra looked at Indra’s determined face and knew what he was being asked to do. He had to turn Vishwamitra’s inner calm into the madness that a werewolf felt at the time of the full moon. In short, from a maharishi working on reason, he had to turn him back into a savage driven by instinct.
When he nodded his acceptance, Shakra turned his attention towards the Rudra and said, ‘My friend, you are the personification of turmoil and destruction. I want you to fill this man’s soul with an insatiable quest for revenge. Churn his heart even as you churn the winds in a tornado to bring about Devastation at the end of a yuga.’
The leader of Rudras merely grunted in reply and Shakra then glanced at his own brothers, focusing his attention on Surya. ‘You, my anuj, are the lord of the intellect so I entrust you with the responsibility of ensuring that the heightened emotions and the boiling blood of this man lead him towards but one direction—Brahmarishi Vasishth—for that is where the solution to all our problems lies.’
Adhyaye 39
The encounter with the Srishti Karta had brought great peace to Vishwamitra’s heart, for he knew now that all the efforts he had made in his life for advancing on the path of spirituality had been finally rewarded.
Yet, strangely enough, there was one hankering that he could not seem to get rid of.
Even with all that he had gained, he could somehow not forget the condescending way Vasishth had talked to him all those years ago in the foothills of the Himalayas. He had been a broken man that day and the pain he had felt in his heart still stoked his anger.
He wanted the Brahmarishi to acknowledge him as an equal and give him the respect he deserved, for now it was Vasishth’s own father, the Srishti Karta, who had declared him a Maharishi. Maybe he should confront the arrogant Vasishth and demand this approval.
As this thought overrode everything else on his mind, Vishwamitra marched towards the Brahmarishi’s ashram, having located it by using his powers. With the speed of thought he reached the hermitage that stood right outside the woods surrounding Ayodhya. But as he appeared behind a giant kadamb, he heard loud voices coming from the direction of the ashram and decided to watch the unfolding events from his vantage point behind the tree.
A Brahmin and a king were arguing in the middle of the tiny wooded path with both claiming the right to pass first. He recognized the Brahmin to be Shaktri, the eldest son of his arch rival who had dared to first challenge him when he had approached Nandini!
He had missed the first part of the argument but he could figure what had happened. The king was on a horse followed by his soldiers in a single file since the clearing in the dense forest was narrow. Shaktri and his younger brothers, who had also grown by now, had been walking in a sing
le file as well. Now the question was which group should step aside to let the other one pass first.
The king had called out to Shaktri to move out of his way but the Brahmin had replied arrogantly, ‘King Kalmashpad, I am a Brahmin which is the highest caste in the society and you know that even a king must give way to a Brahmin. The path is mine to traverse first and I would like you and your men to make room for us to pass.’
The king laughed scornfully and said, ‘You scrawny forest dweller, how dare you compare yourself to a king like me. This region of the forest is in my domain and my will rules supreme here. Leave the path and run away to your little huts, else I shall show you who the true master here is!’
Vishwamitra saw Shaktri turn red with anger and shout insults at the king, calling him a brute barbarian. He was reminded of his own skirmish with Vasishth and felt the old rage rise again. Apparently, this man’s vanity and pride had only grown in all these years and he was still unable to control his baser instincts.
Vishwamitra had been accused of high-handedness by this rishi putra then, and he wanted to see how the king in front of him would react. He knew no self-respecting king would take such words lying down and, sure enough, the furious Kalmashpad lashed out at Shaktri with his whip!
The lash hit Shaktri right on the chest and he reeled under the impact. His brothers helped him regain balance and he rose sputtering like an angry cobra.
With a hand full of sanctified water, he pronounced a terrible curse on the king. ‘You prove my words true by behaving like an early cave-dwelling human! Oh brute savage, may you lose your position and turn into an ogre right this instant!’
Vishwamitra was stunned by the ease with which this Brahmin had uttered such a terrible curse on a fellow human! Brahmins were supposed to look after the spiritual growth of the entire society and help other castes progress with the help of their knowledge, yet this one seemed too full of pride to do justice to his position. He remembered belatedly that this was the same man who had cursed Satyavrat as well and deformed his body into that of a Trishanku. Even as his mind processed these thoughts, he saw a transformation begin in the king.
Kalmashpad’s body was growing in size and his clothes and jewellery started popping off his torso. The horse he was riding could not take his weight any more and collapsed and he was thrown off its back. His soldiers watched with fear the change taking place in their king and took several steps back.
His skin was changing colour and it seemed to be bubbling and breaking out in boils. A stench rose from the man and the Brahmins covered their noses in disgust. His hair fell off and teeth and nails grew in size to resemble fangs and claws while horns sprouted from his head.
Even Vishwarath felt a tinge of fear, watching a man turn into an ogre by the power of a Brahmin’s curse. What an impact some sanctified water and few mantras could achieve! He felt disgusted by the pain this rishi was inflicting on a fellow human. It was because of people like him that human beings remained trapped in such petty infighting instead of setting their goals on higher pursuits.
To his amazement, even with all the changes happening in the king’s body, he did not seem to have lost any of his previous anger. Kalmashpad saw his transformed body and growled like a wild animal. Vishwamitra realized this was the perfect opportunity for him to avenge his insult!
Summoning his own powers, he infused the now growling ogre with the spirit of a man-eating rakshas, urging him to do what came to him naturally. The ogre lunged forward and grabbed the man closest to him—Shaktri!—and, pulling him to his mouth, he broke his head with one snap of his jaw!
Shaktri would never have imagined his curse would rebound on him so badly. He did not even get the time to register the irony of the situation as his body dropped to the ground, spilling blood into the lush green vegetation.
The other Brahmins tried running away but Kalmashpad grabbed them and one by one snapped each of their necks, biting their heads off and drinking their blood. His own men were lucky enough to be on horses so they rode away as fast as they could while the ogre himself ran towards the ashram of Vasishth.
Vishwamitra realized that if the monster attacked Vasishth, his own objective would remain unfulfilled. Maybe he should have tried to save the rishi’s other sons as well, for after all the rest of them had been innocent. Shaktri’s hubris had brought this on him but the others could have been spared.
Then his blood started to boil again remembering the slight he had endured at the hands of these Brahmins. They were the reason he had lost his special troop of hundred soldiers that had been turned into ash. No, it was better this way. This would be his revenge for Vasishth’s destruction of the soldiers he had nurtured like sons.
He could now confront Vasishth without having to bother about his pesky sons and he proceeded to intercept the ogre and then deal with his arch-enemy once and for all. He managed to stop the creature just as he was about to reach Vasishth’s ashram and deflected his path so that he would keep running around the hermitage without ever finding the Brahmarishi’s hut. That would give Vishwamitra some time to decide how he wanted to deal with this nuisance.
As he himself reached the precinct, he saw a young woman sitting outside with a baby in her lap. His yogic vision told him it was the widow of Shaktri and the child in her hand was the infant Parashar. He was feeling magnanimous so did not harm them. After all, Vasishth’s entire clan had already been wiped out and with the immense powers he possessed now, the small kid could hardly do him any harm in the future.
He approached the mother–son duo and requested an audience with Vasishth. Oblivious to the fate that had befallen her husband, the woman rose respectfully and informed him that the rishi had retired permanently to the Himalayas with his wife, to his erstwhile ashram. Apparently, the fall of his mentee Satyavrat had shaken his belief in humans and he had decided to distance himself from the affairs of men once again.
Giving them a grateful smile, he marched towards the Great White Mountains. The irony of the location was not lost on him, for that was the very spot where it had all begun.
Adhyaye 40
Once again he was back in the woods that he had loved as a boy. He admired the sylvan surroundings and the towering conifers that gave off a heady fragrance. Sunlight barely managed to filter through the thick branches and the grass was littered with bursting pine cones.
He walked slowly towards Vasishth’s ashram with the intention of destroying his nemesis once and for all, remembering all the events that had transpired here. His stumbling upon the strange bonhomie between predators and their prey, his exploration of the confines of the ashram, his welcome by Vasishth’s young sons and his subsequent introduction to the Brahmarishi, the sumptuous meal he and his men had savoured at this very place and his astonishment at meeting the divine provider of that feast.
All those were good reminiscences but the events that had followed had soured those memories. As he moved towards the sole hut that remained there, he got a glimpse of the enclosure where he had met Nandini. He wondered where the magical being was now and once again his heart filled with a desire to obtain her.
His mind was thrown back to the physical and mental trauma that he endured at the hands of the SOS, the annihilation of his best soldiers after a hard-earned victory and his dejected return to Kanyakubja.
There had been a brief period of exhilaration when he had conducted the great yagnya that gave him access to the Divya Astras but that was also short-lived as those weapons were swallowed by a small wooden staff held boldly aloft by an old rishi. And perhaps the most hurtful was the sermon he had received from Vasishth as if he was a schoolboy!
He would avenge his insult today and settle the score decisively and with this confidence, he kept moving ahead towards the small dwelling. As he came closer, his sharp ears caught sounds that he could identify as those of the Brahmarishi and his wife. His mind had become so muddled with thoughts of revenge that he could only imagine them plotting against him
for surely Vasishth must have learnt of the demise of his sons through his yogic powers by now.
His blood boiled like a churning cauldron and his heartbeat intensified as he realized that the moment he had been waiting for was upon him.
Should he take the Brahmarishi by surprise and just blast him into oblivion? No, he had just finished creating a completely new star system and was powerful enough to take on the might of the Brahmarishi.
He pondered over the best way to bring about Vasishth’s annihilation—should he drown him in a river or throw him into an active volcano? Pierce him with a thousand pieces of glass or burn him slowly in a vat of oil? No need for Yama’s men, he could show Vasishth his own personal vision of hell.
His paranoia stoked by the combined efforts of the plotting Devas, told him that the two were planning to kill him right now and, on a sudden whim, he decided to hear what the two were talking about before proceeding to wipe them off the face of Earth.
Arundhati, Vasishth’s wife, was sobbing while the old rishi was trying to console her. ‘Do not weep, my dear, for death is only a means to attain the next level of spiritual growth. You know as well as I do, or perhaps even better, that Shaktri had been letting his passions rule over reason for quite some time now.
‘Even the birth of a child, which generates feelings of love in the hardest of hearts, failed to rid him of his anger. He was also a bad influence on our other sons and, in the time to come, this could have turned into a bigger problem. Vishwamitra’s act has only served to free all of them from a doomed future.’ Vishwamitra was perplexed. Had the old Brahmarishi turned soft in his advancing age?
To his surprise the woman seemed to accept this explanation and replied in a measured tone, ‘I know how this cycle of birth and death works, my lord, but it takes time for the heart to accept what the mind already knows. Even though we realize the futility of clinging to other mortals, yet the attachment to one’s family is too strong for their loss not to affect us.’
Vishwamitra Page 18