The Seduction of Shiva: Tales of Life and Love

by Haskar

  The king returned to his capital. There he saw the brahman, united with his now amiable wife. Told about the king’s problem, he performed for him the sacred rite for generating affection for those who seek it. When he was sure that liking for her husband had been instilled in the queen, he declared to the ruler: ‘Best of men, now bring her near to yourself. With her enjoy pleasures and respectfully carry out all sacred duties.’

  With the help of the demon, the queen was brought back. Lovingly did she look at her husband and ask him to be pleased with her. The king was delighted and they lived together happily ever after.

  From Mārkandeya Purāṇa, 66.3–69; 67.1–39; 68; 69.1–34

  Arjuna and Urvashi

  This is the story of the Pandava hero Arjuna’s visit to Amaravati, the city of paradise, on the invitation of Indra, the king of heaven, and his encounter there with the nymph Urvashi.

  Dismounting from the divine chariot, Arjuna beheld the king of the gods, who was also his biological father.1 Indra was seated beneath fans redolent of celestial perfumes, and a white parasol mounted on a fine column of gold. Eminent priests lauded him respectfully with verses from the Vedas, and demigods sang his praise. Arjuna bowed to him and was embraced in the god’s mighty arms, then seated beside him on heaven’s throne. Indra kissed his forehead affectionately, caressing his face and strong arms hardened by drawing the bowstring. His eyes lit up with joy as he gazed and smiled at Arjuna. Then Tumburu and other demigods adept in the chanting of hymns melodiously sang ballads of welcome, while the celestial nymphs—Menaka and Rambha, Urvashi and Ghritachi, Gopali and Chitralekha, and many others—danced. Skilled in pleasing even saintly minds, their lovely eyes and fetching glances, curving hips and trembling breasts, overwhelmed all awareness and thought.

  The gods understood Indra’s mind. They greeted his son with due ceremony and escorted him to the divine royal palace. There Arjuna stayed, learning the usage of heavenly weapons. Indra himself taught him the use of his beloved thunderbolt and the lightning flash which is a signal for the clouds to gather and the peacocks to dance. Arjuna remembered his brothers, but on the god’s insistence he stayed there happily for a long time.

  One day, Indra told Arjuna, ‘The time has come, son of Kunti, for you to learn dancing and singing from Chitrasena. You should master the celestial music which is unknown in the mortal world. It will do you good.’ Arjuna became friendly with this demigod and enjoyed his company. Chitrasena began instructing him in music, song and dance, but Arjuna was not always happy. On some occasions he was indeed delighted to acquire the incomparable musical arts of the gods, but on others he recalled what had transpired at the game of dice,2 and wanted to kill Shakuni and Duhshasana, and thought about his brothers and his mother Kunti.

  Indra concluded that Arjuna had a glad eye for the nymph Urvashi, and called Chitrasena. He said to him privately, ‘Chief of demigods, go today to that best of nymphs so that she presents herself before Arjuna. Just as you taught him your science at my instance after he had learnt the use of missiles, so must you arrange that he acquires experience in union with women.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Chitrasena, and with Indra’s permission he went to meet the beautiful Urvashi. She welcomed him and after both were comfortably seated, he said to her with a smile, ‘My beauty, please understand that I have been sent to you by the lord of the three worlds who also applauds your graces. You know Arjuna. He is recognized among gods and men for his innate merits: appearance and glory; character, resolve and restraint; strength and courage. He is brilliant and charismatic, forgiving and generous. With his competence, age and abstinence, he can protect this heaven unassisted like Indra, and the gods respect him for this. He deserves to have the fruit of paradise, and Indra commands, fair one, that you go to him and do whatever will give him pleasure with you.’

  Urvashi was pleased to be thus addressed, for she considered it a great honour. Smiling at Chitrasena, she replied, ‘What little you have said about his merits is certainly true. After hearing of it I am already drawn to the man. What more can I say? Indra’s orders and your affection have aroused a passion for Arjuna within me. I will gladly visit him as desired.’

  The demigod had done his work and Urvashi sent him off with an innocent look. Eager to visit Arjuna, she then bathed and adorned herself with bright, charming ornaments and a fragrant garland. Kama’s arrow had already pierced her heart and lit a flame within it for Arjuna. Her mind now dwelt on making love with him on the best and biggest of beds spread with heavenly sheets.

  As the moon arose and spread its light, Urvashi emerged from her house and proceeded to Arjuna’s residence. Her long, soft and wavy hair was dressed with lily blossoms. Her face, with its tender radiance and beautiful eyebrows, outshone the moon. Her lovely bosom, brushed with divine powders, and gleaming with a necklace, trembled as she went. Her waist was marked with three splendid folds. Below it shone her faultless hips under a diaphanous skirt. Plump and prominent, embellished with a girdle string, they were a temple of Kama, a disturber of the minds even of celestial sages.

  The soles of Urvashi’s feet and her toes were tinted red. Little bells tinkled on her arched, well-fleshed ankles. With languid grace and the voluptuous look of satisfaction such as after a small drink, she was indeed an eyeful. Her figure draped in a cloud-coloured cloak of fine material, she seemed like a shaft of moonlight as she walked, a wonderful sight even for the sages and demigods of heaven. Moving like the wind’s flow, this nymph of the innocent smile reached Arjuna’s mansion within moments and was announced by the gatekeepers.

  It was with some uncertainty that Arjuna appeared before her that night. On seeing her, he modestly lowered his gaze and greeted her with the ceremony due to an elder. ‘O best of nymphs,’ he said, ‘I greet you with bowed head. What is your command, my lady? I am here to carry it out.’

  The words left Urvashi somewhat stunned. ‘Best of men,’ she said, ‘I will tell you what Chitrasena said to me, which brought me here. The great Indra had arranged a festival in this splendid place for your visit. It was attended by all the gods, sages and semi-divine beings, who sat here shining like the sun and the moon in their glory. The demigods played wonderful music on their lutes and all the leading nymphs danced at that time. But you, Arjuna, looked only at me, and it was with an unblinking stare.

  ‘At the end of the festival,’ Urvashi continued, ‘all the gods left with your father’s permission for their homes, and so did the nymphs, the best as well as the rest. Thereafter Chitrasena came to me on Indra’s order. “Excellent one!” he said to me, “I have been sent to you by the king of the gods. Do what will please Arjuna. It will be good for me, and also for you. He is worthy, meritorious, generous and the equal of Indra in battle. Lady of the lovely hips, pleasure him!”

  ‘So I have come to you, conqueror of enemies, to serve you as ordered by your father. I am filled with desire for you as your qualities have drawn my heart to you. This is something I have wanted since long.’

  Arjuna was deeply embarrassed at these words. Covering both his ears with his hands, he said, ‘It really pains me to hear what you say, noble lady. For me you are like the wives of my elders. As to me are the great Kunti, and Shachi, the consort of Indra, so are you, blessed one. There is no question about it. As for my gazing at you so markedly on that occasion, there was a reason for it which I will tell you truthfully. Listen. My eyes lit up on seeing you there for I thought: “This is the joyous mother of our Puru line.”3 You must not think anything otherwise, for as the augmenter of our line, you are the most venerable of its elders.’

  ‘You should not consider me an elder, brave son of Indra,’ replied Urvashi. ‘We celestial nymphs are all accessible to everyone. Many descendents of your Puru line, patrilineal as well matrilineal, have come here after their earthly penances and enjoyed us without committing any transgression. So, be relaxed. I want you, and I am suffering, indeed burning, for you. Take me!’

  ‘O beautiful
and faultless one!’ said Arjuna, ‘listen to what I must tell you. This is the truth. May all quarters of the compass and their deities hear it too. As are Kunti, Madri and Shachi to me, so are you: the mother of our line and my elder. I place my head at your feet, best of nymphs, but go! I respect you like a mother and you should protect me like a son.’

  Urvashi almost fainted with anger. With eyebrows upraised, her body swaying, she cursed Arjuna. ‘I came to you myself, on your father’s order,’ she cried, ‘but you made me unwelcome, even though I was stricken by love’s arrow. So will you live in disgrace, Arjuna: among women as a dancer, a eunuch, carrying on like one of that kind.’ And, with quivering lips and deep sighs, she promptly went away.

  Rushing to Chitrasena, Arjuna recounted to him all that had happened with Urvashi that evening, repeatedly mentioning her curse. Chitrasena informed Indra who called his son and consoled him in private. ‘My boy,’ he said with a smile, ‘you have made Kunti the mother of an admirable son today. Your steadfastness has surpassed even that of the sages. Urvashi’s curse will help you when you must live anonymously in the thirteenth year of your exile. After spending that time as a dancer and eunuch, you will once more regain your manhood.’ This reassurance pleased Arjuna immensely, relieving him of the worry caused by the curse, and he spent the rest of his time in paradise quite happily.

  From Mahābhārata, Vana Parva, 3.33.16–61

  The Wedding of Radha and Krishna

  Nanda1 once went to Vrindavana, to graze his cattle in a grove of fig trees. The young Krishna was with him. Letting the cows drink tasty water from a lake, Nanda sat under a tree, holding the little boy to his chest.

  One aspect of Krishna is that of the man of magic. With that power, he covered the sky with clouds. The woods became dark. A fierce wind blew, shaking the trees and, with terrible claps of thunder, a torrential downpour commenced. As the rain fell on his shoulders, Nanda was filled with fear. ‘How will I get home, leaving the calves behind?’ he worried. ‘And if I don’t go, what will happen to this boy?’ Even as he fretted thus, Krishna began to cry, scared of the streaming water, clinging to his father’s neck.

  It was at that time that Radha2 came towards them. Her dainty steps would have shamed a bird. Like autumn moonlight was the glow on her lovely face, and like autumn lilies at noon shone her eyes through mascara-brushed lashes. Her lips surpassed the glory of ripe cherries and her teeth the brightness of pearls. Her breasts were as wood-apples, saffron-tinted and firm, and her torso beautifully rounded with a deep-set navel. Below it, adorned with the bejewelled net of a girdle, were her seductive hips, true weapons of love.

  Gem-studded anklets tinkled on her red-painted feet. Seashells embellished the bracelets on her wrists. Rings gleamed like flames on her fingers, and glittered like the summer sun in her ears. Her hair was dressed with strings of jasmine and her temples decorated with beauty spots of musk and vermilion. Her body had the lustre of a magnolia blossom. In her hand she held a jewel-like mirror into which she gazed as she smiled, like a flower in full bloom.

  Seeing Radha in that lonely place, lighting it up in all directions with her radiance, Nanda was filled with wonder. With head bowed in devotion and eyes brimming with tears, he called out to her. ‘I know of you from the sage Garga,’3 he cried, ‘you are Padma, the beloved of Hari. And I know this boy is the great Vishnu, the imperishable one who transcends all attributes. But I am human, and deluded by his magic power. Take this lord of life, good lady, and go as you please. I know that you will return my son after all that is needed has been done.’ And he handed her the child who was howling with fright.

  Radha took the boy and smiled sweetly. ‘This is secret and not to be revealed, Nanda,’ she said. ‘You see me because of the merits of your past lives. You are wise and also know the story from Garga. What we do in this pasture is secret. Choose a boon, lord of Vraja. Whatever you wish for. I can easily give you even that which is hard to get for the gods.’

  ‘Grant me devotion to you both,’ Nanda replied. ‘I have no other wish. Give us refuge at your feet, Mother of the Universe.’

  ‘I give you this incomparable gift,’ said the great goddess as she happily took Krishna to her breast. ‘May you have devotion to us both, day and night. And with this boon no delusion will overcome you when you go to heaven after giving up the human form.’ She then went away with Krishna in her arms. Thrilling at the memory of their rasa dance together, she held him to her breast with loving kisses and embraces.

  Thereafter Radha beheld a bejewelled magical bower, with gem-studded urns and wonderful greenery. Decorated with a mesh of rubies and pearls, embroidered cloth and many flags, the bower was surrounded by a flower garden and had seven steps leading to a crystal door. Within it, under pillars of ruby, was a bed strewn with flowers and scented with sandalwood and incense, saffron and musk.

  Joyfully, the goddess entered the bower where stood urns full of ambrosial honey and others of fresh water, clear and cool, topped with betel leaves and camphor. Reclining on the bed of flowers was a charming young man, dark and handsome. Dressed in a yellow garment and touched with sandalwood powder, he looked at her happily with an enchanting smile.

  This youth wore tinkling jewelled anklets and bracelets. Two precious earrings gleamed near his temples and the great gem Kaustubha4 flashed on his chest. Like autumn moonlight was the glow on his face, and like autumn lilies were his eyes. A peacock feather was tied with a string of jasmines to his thrice-twisted hair.

  Even though she is the repository of all memory, and her arms were now without the child, Radha marvelled at the sight of the youth. Her eyes drank in his face lovingly, as the chakora bird does the moon, unblinking and ardent for a fresh union. Eager for love, she thrilled all over as she smiled and kept looking at him with sidelong glances.

  Hari then addressed her. ‘Radha,’ he said, ‘you remember what happened in heaven, in the assembly of the gods. Today, my love, I will fulfil that which was agreed in the past. My beloved, beautiful Radha, you are more to me than life itself. As you are, so am I: there is no difference between us. As is whiteness in milk, blazing in fire and fragrance in earth, so am I always in you. Without you, people call me Krishna, but with you they say Shri Krishna. For you are Shri, my glory, treasure and support. You are the woman and I the man, say the scriptures; you represent all power and I the imperishable self. In capability, intellect and wisdom, we are the same. Whosoever differentiates between us lives forever in hell.

  ‘One distressed, who calls out Ra, the first syllable of you name,’ Krishna continued from the beautiful bed, ‘I grant him the highest devotion. And to one who adds the second syllable dha, to him I rush to hear that full word. For it means more to me than all the canonical ceremonial ritual worship. Indeed, one who utters it is dearer to me than the name itself. Dearer than all the gods and the goddesses. They are like life to me, but you are even more than life. They stay in different places, but you are within my heart. My pleasing four-armed image may shine in the thoughts of many, but I am here as Krishna, to marry you myself.’

  ‘Lord, I know and remember all,’ replied Radha. ‘How can I forget? I am everything you say. It is because of your grace. Some are dear to the master and some not, such as those who do not recall me. But you can turn a mite into a mountain, and the other way too, for your mercy is the same for all.

  ‘I stand here,’ she continued, ‘and you are reclining. We have talked for but a moment which I cannot get back, though it seemed like an age. Touch me on my head and breasts with your lotus feet. My heart has been scorched by separation from you. I am unable to look anywhere but at you. That alone gives me peace.’

  Shri Krishna laughed on hearing Radha. True, good and scriptural was his reply. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘whatever happens anywhere at any time is ordained by me and cannot be changed. The time for the fulfilment of your wishes has now arrived. I will implement them and nothing can stop it. For I ordain the ordainers, and lesser ones like B
rahma5 obey me.’

  Brahma had meanwhile appeared before Hari, rosary and bowl in hand, smiles on all his four faces. Krishna welcomed and greeted him, even as the world’s creator bowed to Hari with all devotion, and then went to Radhika, saluting the mother as he sprinkled her with cupped hands of water from his bowl.

  ‘O mother,’ said Brahma, ‘it is by Krishna’s grace that I see you. To have this sight is most difficult anywhere, more so in this land. For long did I pray to Krishna, till he appeared in person to grant me a boon. “Let me see the lotus feet of Radha,” I asked, “soon, even now.” And Hari told me he would let me do so in due time.

  ‘God’s command is never fruitless,’ Brahma continued. ‘Because of it I see you. It is something, mother, which all desire, in heaven and here. You are of the same nature as the goddesses, a part of them all. You are half of Krishna and like him in every way. You are he and he is you. Who ordained this, I cannot find in the scriptures. But just as heaven is higher than this world, so are you above all, even the unborn and unformed. Just as everyone in the world lives as a part of Krishna, so are you the power within all. Men are a part of Hari and all women a measure of you. I, this world’s creator and the progenitor of the gods, am unable to expound even a fraction of your attributes. For knowledge is the father of discourse, mind the mother of knowledge, and you are the parent of the mind. Who can explain you? Not I, not the great god, nor the one who is endless. But the mercy of the god of gods is the same for all. Children may from time to time manifest faults as well as virtues, but parents lovingly forgive all.’

  Thus did Brahma speak as he stood before them both.

  ‘O creator, choose a boon,’ said Radha. ‘Grant me devotion to yourself,’ was the request to which she assented at once as the world’s creator bowed to her again. Then he kindled a fire before them and commenced the ceremony of marriage.