by Haskar
Krishna had meanwhile risen from the couch to stand before the fire into which he offered oblations in accordance with Brahma’s liturgy. Bowing yet again to him and to Radha, the creator himself tied the band of marriage on their wrists and had them perform the sevenfold circumambulation of the fire. Thereafter he waved the flames around Radha and sprinkled perfume on Krishna. Having him hold Radha’s hand as he recited the scriptural verses, the creator then placed her hand on Krishna’s chest and Krishna’s on her back as she recited the verses for women.
Brahma then had Radha garland Krishna with a chain of celestial flowers reaching to his knees, and Krishna garland Radha similarly. Bowing to them again, he once more sprinkled perfume on Shri Krishna and on a smiling Radha to the bridegroom’s left. Instructing them to cup their hands, the creator then recited the five scriptural verses of blessings, and with a bow offered Radhika to Krishna, as a father devotedly would his daughter. Meanwhile the gods sounded trumpets of joy and celestial flowers streamed down in a shower. The demigods sang and the divine nymphs danced. ‘As the marriage fee, give me devotion to yourself,’ Brahma said with a smile to the contented Shri Krishna.
‘May your devotion to me be forever,’ Hari replied. ‘Go, and continue the works I have ordained.’
From Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa, Krishnajanma Khanda, 15.1–139
The Sage and the Siren
There was a sage named Marichi, who lived in a hermitage on the bank of the river Ganga outside Champa, the capital of the Anga country. He was considered a fount of miraculous wisdom, having acquired divine sight by virtue of his penances. Once he was approached by Kama Manjari, a leading courtesan of Champa.
The woman looked distraught, with teardrops glistening on her breasts. Her flowing hair spread on the ground as she bowed before the sage. Her relatives, led by her mother, also arrived at the same time. They were full of concern and had followed her in great haste.
The sage was compassionate. He comforted them with soothing words, and asked the courtesan the reason for her distress. Embarrassed, sad, but also proud, she said, ‘Lord, I am unfit for the pleasures of this world, and only seek merit in the next. You are famous for helping those in trouble. I have come for refuge at your feet.’
Her mother also bowed, the fillet on her grey hair touching the ground. Raising clasped hands, she said, ‘Lord, let this servant explain to you the things for which my daughter blames me. My only fault has been doing my duty. The duties of a courtesan’s mother are well known.
‘From her birth, the daughter’s limbs must be shaped with massage and other exercises. Her body must be nourished with a measured diet which will increase its energy, strength and lustre, improve the mind, and balance the humours and the elements within.
‘From the fifth year her contact with men, even her father, must be limited. But celebrations should be held for her on birthdays, festivals and other auspicious occasions. Her education should also commence in all the branches of the science of love.
‘These include the arts of dancing, singing and playing musical instruments; of theatre, drawing and cookery; and of creating floral arrangements and making perfumes. As well as the skills of reading and conversing. All of these must be well taught.
‘She must know enough of grammar, logic and astronomy to be able to talk about these sciences. She must have mastery over how to make a living, and how to amuse; know how to gamble, both by betting on animals and by gaming with dice. She must also learn with due effort and practice the arts of coquetry and flirtation.
‘During festivals and processions she should be displayed, suitably ornamented and surrounded by a large entourage. Through instructors arranged in advance, she should gain success at musical and other performances which take place on special occasions. The celebrity thus acquired should be heralded abroad. Soothsayers should proclaim her auspicious bodily attributes. Sybarites, wits and go-betweens should spread the word among men of fashion about her beauty, temperament and artistic ability.
‘Once she has become the focus of young men’s desires, she should be offered for the highest possible fee. But it should be to an independent person of good family and the right age. He should be healthy and good-looking, rich and able, generous and simple, competent, cultured and sweet-tempered. To one who is not independent, but learned and possessed of other qualities in high degree, she can be given even for a lower price while telling others it is much greater. Or she can be married to a minor under common law and the fee extorted from his guardians.
‘But the courtesan should only attract the client; she should not fall in love with him. Even if she falls in love, she should not disobey her mother or grandmother. This is the condition. Now, this girl has infringed her own ordained duties. She has spent a whole month at her own expense, in dalliance with an unknown young brahman whose only wealth is his beauty. She has rejected and annoyed numerous suitors with plenty of money. In the process she is ruining her family. When I tried to stop her, saying nothing good would come out of this folly, she became angry and set off to live in the forest. If this remains her decision, all these people will be left with no alternative but to starve to death.’ And she burst into tears.
‘Gentle maiden,’ the sage said kindly to the courtesan, ‘living in the forest is very hard. People do it only for attaining salvation or for ensuring a place in heaven. The first is not possible except through wisdom, and even then difficult to obtain. The second is easy to achieve for all those who adhere to their ordained family duties. So turn away from the impossible and do as your mother says.’
Kama Manjari was greatly disturbed. ‘Lord, if I cannot find refuge at your feet,’ she cried, ‘then the only resort for my suffering is the god of fire.’
Pondering over this threat, the sage turned to her mother. ‘Go home for the present,’ he told her, ‘and wait for a few days. By then this delicate girl used to luxury will have had enough of the hard life of the forest. I too will persist in persuading her so that she returns to her normal life.’ The mother agreed and went back with the others.
Thereafter the courtesan put on a pair of simple washed garments and stopped using much make-up. She busied herself with attending to the hermitage plants, gathering flowers for the divine services, and performing various religious rituals. She worshipped the god Shiva with floral offerings, incense and lighted lamps, dances and music. With these devotions, and with discussions in private about the threefold goals of life and other philosophical subjects, she soon won the saintly hermit’s heart.
Observing his infatuation, she said with a smile when they were alone, ‘People are fools to consider the goals of artha and kama on the same level as those of dharma.’1
‘Tell me, girl,’ Marichi responded, ‘how do you hold dharma to be higher than artha and kama?’
Prompted thus, Kama Manjari spoke slowly and bashfully, ‘Lord, your knowledge of the threefold goals is certainly much greater than mine. To ask me shows only your kindness to this servant. Very well. Listen.
‘Without dharma, artha and kama cannot even begin. Dharma is independent of them, and it alone leads to the bliss of salvation. It is moreover achievable by concentrating the mind; unlike artha and kama it does not need external aids. Contemplation of the absolute increases dharma, and indulgence in artha and kama, no matter how, cannot obstruct it. Even if obstructed, dharma can be revived with little effort; correcting its faults, it soon becomes able once again to lead the practitioner to salvation.
‘Look at the gods. Brahma lusted after the nymph Tilottama. Shiva violated the wives of thousands of hermits. Vishnu dallied in his harem with sixteen thousand wives. Prajapati was infatuated with his own daughter. Indra committed adultery with Ahalya. The wind god slept with the wife of Kesari. The moon god did so with his guru’s spouse. The sun god mounted a mare.2
‘And look at the divine sages. Brihaspati cohabited with the wife of Utathya. Parashara ravished the boatman’s daughter. His son had intercourse with the wiv
es of his brothers.3 Atri did the same with a doe.
‘The impermissible conduct of the gods in such cases did not detract from dharma,’ she continued, ‘because of the power of their wisdom. Passion cannot soil the mind purified by dharma just as dust cannot besmirch the sky. That is why I believe that artha and kama cannot equal even a hundredth part of dharma.’
The sage was aroused. ‘You minx!’ he cried. ‘You are right! In those who have seen the absolute, dharma cannot be impeded by sensual indulgence. But I have never had anything to do since birth with talk of artha and kama. I must first get to know their form, their method and their result.’
‘Artha,’ she replied, ‘is about earning, increasing and protecting wealth. Its methods are war and peace, agriculture, cattle rearing and commerce. Its best fruit is charity to the deserving.
‘Kama concerns the special and delightful contact between man and woman when the minds of both are focused on the senses. Its methods are all that is pleasing and beautiful. Its fruit, born of mutual embraces, is a palpable and self-evident pleasure which nothing can surpass. It gives infinite joy, increases self-confidence and is ever sweet to remember. Highly placed people endure great discomforts and pay vast sums, engage in bitter fights and undertake fearful journeys across the sea, just for this pleasure.’
It was either her wiles or his folly, or simply fate, but on hearing her words the sage abandoned his penances and fell for her completely. She took the fool in a covered carriage through the highway to the city where he was installed in her own house. It was announced that a festival of love would take place on the following day.
On the morrow the sage Marichi was taken to the festival through the city’s main boulevard. Bathed and perfumed, he wore a fine floral garland and had already assumed rakish manners. He could not bear to be parted from Kama Manjari even for a moment: interest in his former mode of life had disappeared completely.
At the festival garden they came into the presence of the king who was surrounded by a bevy of young women. ‘Madam,’ the king said with a smile, ‘please be seated with the reverend lord.’ The courtesan saluted him and sat down, smiling sweetly. Then an elegant lady got up and said with hands clasped in homage, ‘Sir, I have been defeated by Kama Manjari and accept to be her servant from today.’
As the lady bowed, there was a roar and astonishment and joy from the crowd in the park. The delighted king presented Kama Manjari with precious jewels and other gifts. The chief citizens and leading courtesans congratulated her. Praised by the people she then returned to her residence.
‘Lord,’ she told the sage at home, ‘it is time to say farewell. You have granted many favours to this servant. Now you should look to your own affairs.’
The sage was as if thunderstruck while in the midst of a passion. ‘Dearest,’ he cried, bewildered, ‘what is this? Whence this sudden indifference? What has happened to that extraordinary love you had for me?’
She replied with a smile, ‘Lord, you remember the woman who accepted defeat at my hands in front of the king today? There had been a little altercation between us. She had ridiculed me saying I put on airs as if I could seduce even Marichi. We had taken a bet on this, with the stake that the loser would become the other’s servant. Thanks to you, I have won the bet!’
From Daśa Kumāra Charitam, 7.2
The Story of Devayani
Once there was a war between the gods and the demons for the mastery of the universe. Desirous of victory, the gods appointed Brihaspati, the son of the sage Angiras, as their priest; and the demons did the same with Shukra, the son of Kavi. Both were brahmans and great rivals, but while Shukra could revive the demons killed by the gods, the wise Brihaspati was unable to bring the slain gods to life for, unlike his counterpart, he did not know Sanjivani, the science of revivification.
The worried gods approached Kacha, the elder son of Brihaspati. ‘Help us,’ they pleaded, ‘acquire quickly the science which that brilliant brahman has. He can be met in the company of the demon king Vrishaparvan. No one but you can propitiate him and his daughter Devayani. You have the disposition and the graces, the restraint and the pleasing manners to do it. And, if Devayani is satisfied, you will definitely obtain that knowledge.’
Kacha agreed and, duly honoured by the gods, he proceeded swiftly to the capital of the demon king. Bowing there to Shukra, he said, ‘Sir, I am Kacha, the grandson of the sage Angiras and the lawful son of Brihaspati. Please accept me as a pupil. Permit me to live with you as a celibate under your care as my supreme preceptor.’
‘I accept your request,’ Shukra replied. ‘Be welcome, Kacha. I will honour you and, through you, your father Brihaspati.’ Kacha then took the oath of celibacy as directed by Shukra, accepted the duration specified for it, and began serving his teacher as well as Devayani, whom the young man entertained with singing, dancing and conversation.
Devayani was young and a virgin. Kacha charmed her with flowers and fruit, and by running errands for her. She too interacted with this brahman whose behaviour was in accordance with his vow, even when they were alone, and she sang with him.
Much time passed thus. The demons knew about Kacha’s purpose. They hated Brihaspati and also wished to protect themselves. One day, when Kacha was alone in the forest grazing his teacher’s cows, they killed him and chopped his body into pieces which were left for the jackals.
The cows returned home without their herdsman. Devayani noticed this and at once informed Shukra. ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘the sun is setting. You have already stoked the sacred fire. The cows are back, but without their keeper. Father, Kacha is not there! Obviously he has been captured or killed. I tell you the truth, father: without him I cannot live.’
‘Well, I can revive the dead,’ Shukra observed and, applying his knowledge of Sanjivani, he invoked Kacha who duly appeared and told his teacher how some demons had killed him. On a subsequent occasion he again went to the forest to bring some flowers that Devayani wanted and was picking them when the demons saw him as before. They killed him once again, burnt and powdered his body, and mixed that powder into wine which they then gave Shukra to drink.
Once more Devayani spoke to her father, ‘I had sent Kacha to bring me flowers, but he has not come back. He is certainly dead or slain, father, and without him I truly cannot live.’
‘Kacha is dead, daughter. Even though that son of Brihaspati was revived with my science, he has again been killed. What can we do? Don’t grieve for him, Devayani. Don’t weep. It does not befit someone like you who is esteemed by everyone. I can hardly keep reviving this brahman who will simply be killed again.’
‘How can I not grieve and weep for Kacha? The son of one meritorious sage and the grandson of another, he is himself a celibate with merit as his only wealth, always positive and good at his work. I like him, father. He is dear to me. I will stop eating and follow his path.’
Shukra got angry. ‘It is clear that these demons are against me,’ he cried. ‘They kill my pupil and also want to degrade me.’ With his science he then called to Kacha who responded softly from within Shukra’s belly. ‘Son,’ Shukra asked him, ‘how are you there? Tell me all.’
‘By your grace my memory is intact, sir, and I remember all that happened. Though my merits did not decay, it was a terrible time. The demons killed, burnt and powdered me and then I was given to you in wine.’
‘What would you like that I do, my dear?’ Shukra asked his daughter. ‘It is either my life or Kacha’s. He can only be torn out of my belly. You will have him, Devayani, but I will be gone.’
‘Kacha perishing and your dying, both griefs will burn me like twin fires. Without him I have no joy, without you I cannot live.’
Shukra then spoke to Kacha. ‘Son of Brihaspati,’ he said, ‘you are at a summit of attainments! Devayani loves you, and you love her too. Now take this science Sanjivani, if of course you are not the king of the gods in disguise! Take it and live again after coming out of my belly. Take it from your guru
with care. Be my son and come out, tearing through my entrails and then revive your father.’
Thus did Kacha obtain the sacred science from his preceptor. Tearing through his belly, he came out like the full moon through the white peaks of the Himalayas. Reviving his lifeless guru, he thanked and praised him at length while Shukra talked about the evils of drink. In due course Kacha sought his permission to return home.
Devayani addressed Kacha as his departure neared. ‘Grandson of the sage Angiras,’ she said, ‘you shine with your conduct and family, your learning, restraint and other merits. Your father and grandfather are as honourable for me as my own famous father. Bear this in mind as I speak, also my behaviour while you kept your vow. Your studies are now complete, but you should not leave me. I love you. Take my hand in marriage.’
‘Speak not thus, Devayani. I honour and respect you no less than the lord your father who loves you more than life. I will always esteem you as the daughter of my guru, the glorious Shukra.’
‘You may be like a son to your guru, Kacha, but you are not the son of my father. I too honour and respect you. But don’t forget my love for you, and my sympathy, attachment and great devotion when you were killed repeatedly by the demons. You cannot just abandon an innocent girl who loves you. You know what is right.’
‘Be gracious, blessed one. You mean more to me than my guru, yet you direct me towards the impermissible. I too have been where you once were, beautiful girl: in your father’s belly. By rights you are my sister. So do not speak thus. Live happily. I have no anger and will go only with your permission. Bless my path. Think of me some time in the right way. And always look after my guru with care.’
‘When the demons killed you, Kacha, I looked after you as I would a husband. I seek but virtue and pleasure with you now, and do so in a right and proper way. If you reject me your learning will come to naught.’