MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#1: The Forest of Stories (Mba)

by Ashok K. Banker

  In time, he found the bay where the Nishadas resided and fell upon them like great Kaal itself, the almighty Lord of Death Yama in the form of Time. His mighty wings beat up a great dust storm that covered the sky, dried up the ocean and caused even the adjoining mountain ranges to shake. Then, moving stealthily through the twilight of the dust storm, he opened his beak wide. Stampeding in panic from these unusual phenomena, the Nishadas unwittingly ran right into the open beak of Garuda. Just as birds rise from a jungle in thousands when startled and fly up into the sky, thus did the Nishadas run along their only escape route— directly into the maw of the great bird. Garuda scooped them up by the thousands and consumed them, eating their flesh, strengthened by their diet of fish. The slaughter of the Nishadas was relentless.

  Then, as was inevitable, a brahmin and his wife happened to be among those that fell into Garuda’s beak. Even as they fell, screaming, into his throat, Garuda felt himself scorched as if he had swallowed a live coal. Remembering his mother’s instructions, at once he opened his beak and released the brahmin, saying, ‘O great brahmin. You are free to go. I have sworn an oath never to eat a brahmin, even if he lives among those who are wrongdoers.’

  Relieved, the brahmin scurried out of the beak, then paused to look up. ‘Mighty one, the woman with me is my wife. She is a Nishada but I pray you, spare her as well.’

  Garuda said, ‘Take her then, and go. Hurry before you are both consumed by the energy in my belly for once it touches you, there is no escape.’

  Without wasting a moment, the brahmin took his Nishada wife by the hand and both escaped from Garuda’s beak.

  Garuda spread his wings and took flight once more. Flying to his father’s ashram, he came before Sage Kashyapa and greeted him with appropriate plaudits. When his father gave him leave to speak, he said, ‘I am on a mission to steal the Soma of immortality, Amrit. Once I hand it over to the Nagas, my mother shall be freed from her enslavement. Requiring energy for the task, she advised me to eat the Nishadas. I did so, but even after consuming thousands of the fisherfolk, I am still not sated. Great father of mine, pray advise me on what else I can eat that I may grow strong enough to steal the ambrosia.’

  Kashyapa pondered the matter then said, ‘My son, in ancient times there was a maharishi named Vibhavasu. He was prone to losing his temper easily. Vibhavasu had a younger brother named Supratika who was also a great ascetic. Both brothers jointly owned certain possessions and properties of value. Supratika wished to have his share of these things to possess independently. He constantly urged his brother to divide their possessions. One day, angered by his brother’s constant demands, Vibhavasu told him, ‘Many people foolishly believe that dividing property is the best way. But once it is divided, these same deluded fools are then driven apart. The more they think about wealth and possessions, the more they wish to ensure that they have received their fair share, and obsess over dividing their properties and possessions, while retaining a semblance of friendship. In time, this leads to enmity and selfish greed and eventually, utter ruin. Knowledgable persons like us should be wiser than to pursue such selfish and deluded goals. Partition can only cause unhappiness and ruin. Supratika, your constant demands have exceeded my patience. Despite all my advice, you are obsessed with acquiring your share of the property. Your bullheadedness is intolerable. On this account, I curse you to become an elephant who constantly pushes his head against a tree, determined to bring it to the ground!’

  In retaliation, Supratika said, ‘If that is so, then I curse you to become a turtle that lives in the water and is unable to take any action, no matter how vital!’

  Thus, each of them turned into an elephant and a turtle. And until this very day, they continue to maintain their enmity towards one another, feuding and brawling constantly. Look upon this great lake before us. Do you see the large majestic elephant that comes toward us, trumpeting its anger? That is Supratika, transformed by his brother’s curse. And there, responding to the elephant’s challenge, Vibhavasu the turtle rises from the bed of the lake to the surface. Watch how the elephant curls his trunk in fury and plunges into the lake to do batttle with the turtle, attacking it with his trunk, tusks, tail and feet. The turtle is no less indignant and agitates the water mightily as it retaliates. These are no ordinary turtle and elephant: Vibhavasu the turtle is three yojanas tall and ten yojanas in girth! While Supratika the elephant is six yojanas high and twice that in length! They are both joining together in a battle royale as we speak. Scoop them up and eat them whole and you shall gain all the strength you desire to accomplish your chosen task!’

  At his father’s words, Garuda eagerly leaped into the sky, turned in a wheeling flight, and swooped down to grasp hold of the elephant with one enormous claw and the tortoise with the other claw. Gaining height again with powerful flaps of his great wings, he flew to the tirthsthan named Alamba where a grove of celestial trees flourished. These were divine trees, hung with gold and silver fruits and branches of lapis lazuli. Being a bird, he sought only to perch upon a tree branch that he might eat his meal of turtle and elephant. But, buffetted by the gale-intensity of his wings, the magical trees trembled in fear, afraid that Garuda’s immense weight would crack their golden boughs. Garuda was able to understand the concern felt by the divine trees and he had no desire to shake free their magical fruit which were capable of granting any wish to those who ate them. So he went in search of a more suitable perch.

  He found a great and ancient fig tree with immense branches, its roots spread far and wide over the course of its historic life. The tree saw and understood Garuda’s need and called out to him: ‘Great bird, I bid you welcome. Come perch upon my mighty branches which extend for one hundred yojanas and eat your meal in peace!’ Garuda, enormous as any mountain, descended with a great flapping of his wings, bearing his prey, and perched upon the giant branches that had housed a thousand birds for as many years. But the instant his claws touched the branch, it broke with a loud crack and the entire tree shook.

  Instinctively, moving as quickly as thought, Garuda snatched up the bough he had broken and held it in his beak before it could fall to the ground. He saw that the bough had a large number of tiny humanoid creatures hanging from its underside, their heads facing downwards. On closer inspection he realized these were the valakhilyas, the austere rishis who had been generated from the body of Brahma himself in a great age past. Each of them was the size of a man’s thumb and they preceded the sun’s chariot on his daily journey. Unwilling to let the bough drop and crush the valakhilyas to death, Garuda held that great bough in his mighty beak and flew up to the sky again. Unable to find a suitable perch, he flew on for a great distance, often circling for ages in search of a landing spot, without finding any. Across countless nations he flew thus, carrying the giant elephant in one claw, the turtle in his other claw, and the giant bough in his beak. But nowhere on earth could he find a place strong enough to bear the combined weight of himself and his burdens.

  At last he came to the great mountain Gandhamadana atop whose peak his father Kashyapa was standing on one leg in a yogic asana. Sage Kashayapa saw his son and understood his plight at once. He called out to Garuda: ‘My son! Be careful what you do! The valakhilyas drink the energy of the sun to sustain themselves. If angered, they will turn their solar power upon you and burn you instantly!’ Having cautioned his son, Kashyapa then turned his attention to the valakhilyas themselves. ‘Great ascetics, my son Garuda has embarked on a noble mission. Pray, grant him your permission to proceed.’

  Acknowledging their fellow sage, the valakhilyas acceded to Kashyapa’s well-phrased request and relinquished their hold on the giant branch. Descending to the ground, they travelled on to the Himalayas to seek out another place to complete their austerities.

  But Garuda still had a problem. ‘Father,’ he said to Kashyapa, ‘advise me where I can drop this branch without harming any brahmins. For my mother Vinata cautioned me never to harm a brahmin. Is there a country wher
e no brahmins reside where I can go to discard it?’

  ‘Tarkshya,’ said his father, using an affectionate epithet for his son, ‘in a distant land there is a mountain uninhabited by humans. It is remote, inaccessible, and in a place where no man can reach, with caves buried in snowdrifts. Mortal men do not know of its existence even in their imagination. I will communicate its location to you with the power of my mind.’

  Thus instructed, Garuda rose up again, carrying the giant branch, giant elephant and giant turtle and using the power of his mind alone, entered the base of the mountain instantly. Thus, he covered a distance of one hundred thousand yojanas in the wink of an eye. Seeing the mountain, he let go of the branch with great relief. With a terrible sound, the branch crashed and fell, causing the entire mountain and the surrounding countryside for many hundreds of yojanas around to shudder. Trees shed their fruit, leaves and flowers showered down, and the snowdrifts and glacial ice clinging to the peak and slopes of that mighty mountain were shaken loose and crashed down in a great avalanche. Alighting atop the summit of that same mountain, Garuda finally rested his weary body and feasted on both the elephant and the turtle, eating both with great relish. As soon as he finished, he was filled with immense energy, and was ready to undertake his ambitious mission.

  Once again travelling at the speed of thought, he flew from that mountain peak to the land of the gods to steal the ambrosia of immortality.

  But the devas are gods and they saw portents and signs of the impending threat. Indra’s vajra, that divine thunderbolt, released itself with an ominous sound even without his bidding. Meteors blazed trails across the sky. The various clans of the gods—Vasus, Rudras, Adityas, Sadhyas, Maruts and their kith and kin—all began attacking one another and fighting for no apparent reason. Things occurred that had never taken place before, even during the war of the devas and asuras. Tumultuous winds roared, cloudless skies produced thundering sounds, and even the God of the gods, he who has ever been and shall ever be, rained showers of blood. The flower garlands around the necks of the devas withered and wilted. Swirling dust and grime darkened the gleam of their crowns. The light of the stars was extinguished.

  Indra, who was also the performer of a hundred sacrifices and therefore known as Shatkratu, was disturbed and bewildered, as were his fellow devas. He appealed to the preceptor of the gods, the great sage Brihaspati. ‘Gurudev, what is the cause of these phenomena? Such portents can only serve to forewarn us of a great enemy’s approach. But I see no one who threatens our well-being.’

  Brihaspati replied, ‘King of the gods, it is through your own negligence that this has occurred. The valakhilyas, through the power of their austerities, have created an extraordinary creature. This giant bird, son of Kashyapa and Vinata, is powerful and possessed of maya, the power of illusion. He comes here now to steal your precious Amrit. Do not underestimate him. This feat is well within his ability. He is capable of doing the impossible.’

  Disturbed by his guru’s words, Indra in his form of Shakra spoke to the other devas, fellow guardians of the sacred elixir. ‘These portents are signs of the approach of a great and powerful bird. He comes now to steal our Amrit. We must prevent him from doing so.’

  On Indra’s instructions, they took up pre-arranged positions around the gourd pot of Amrit, weapons in hand. Indra armed himself with his vajra. Each of the devas was clad in his best armour and armed with his fiercest weapons—chakras, balas, trishuls, parasus, and every other projectile imaginable. Armed and armoured thus, the army of devas stood there waiting, determined to protect the nectar of immortality at any cost. What army would dare challenge such a divine host, armed as if for a great war, capable of facing even the largest gathering of enemies ever assembled?

  ||Eleven||

  Kulapati Shaunaka joined his palms together. ‘Suta, forgive my interruption. What did Brihaspati mean when he blamed Indra for his negligence? How was the great Indra negligent? And what did he mean when he said that Garuda had been created by the austerities of the valakhilyas? But even before that, I wish to ask an even more basic question: How did Kashyapa, a brahmin of great knowledge and austerity, come to have a bird for a son? And how did this bird-son, Garuda, possess such incredible powers and strength, including the ability to travel at will through the power of thought? If you possess knowledge of any of these answers, I would hear them.’

  Sauti nodded. ‘Indeed, Kulapati. All these questions are answered in our ancient Puranas and contained within the body of the Mahabharata epic. I shall answer them briefly here before resuming the tale of Garuda and Amrit.

  ‘Prajapati Kashyapa once undertook a sacrifice in order to obtain a son. He was aided by the rishis, the devas and the gandharvas. He appointed Indra in his form of Shakra, the other devas and the valakhilya sages to bring firewood for the sacrifice. Because of his immense strength, Shakra picked up a load of firewood as large as a mountain and carried it easily. On the way, he saw some rishis as tiny as the joint of a thumb, struggling to carry a single leaf of a palash tree. These were the valakhilyas. Emaciated from lack of food, bone-thin, they were very weak and barely able to walk straight. Unseen by them, a cow’s hoofprint had filled up with murky water, and they fell into it. Amused by the sight, Indra burst out laughing and instead of offering to help, simply stepped over them and continued on his way. Angered by Indra’s behaviour, the valakhilyas resolved to punish the king of the gods. When they finally reached the site of the yagna, they poured offerings into the sacred fire and chanted mantras which would cause the creation of a being equal to Indra in strength, power and capable of travelling anywhere simply by willing himself there. Additionally, they specified that this new being would cause great fear and pain to Indra himself and when the two clashed, the new god would be one hundred times as strong and fierce as Purandara. On hearing their invocations, Indra turned pale with fear and appealed to his host, Kashyapa, to protect him from the being created by the valakhilyas.

  ‘Kashyapa went to the valakhilyas and asked them if they had indeed succeeded in creating the being they desired. They answered in the affirmative. He attempted to arbitrate and began by referring to the word of their own forebear, Brahma. “Indra was appointed by Brahma himself as the lord of three worlds. By invoking the creation of another god equal to him, you run the risk of offending Brahma himself and undermining his words. This is not right. On the other hand, I have no desire to thwart your wishes. Therefore, let the being you invoked be like another Indra, more powerful and supreme, but let him be an Indra among the winged creatures, not mortal or deva. In this manner, your words as well as Brahma’s injunction shall be upheld.”’ The valakhilyas were not malevolent nor vengeful by nature. They bowed to their host and fellow brahmin and said graciously, “Prajapati, it is true that we desired to create a new Indra to replace the existing one. But because we were attending your ceremony to obtain a son, it was to that same future son that we poured our oblations and offered our invocations. Now, the rest is entirely up to you, for the being we invoked shall be your own son, and you its father. Therefore, whatever you desire shall come to pass.”

  ‘At this time, Dakshayani Vinata was most desirous of having a son and had been performing austerities and rites to achieve this goal. Pleased with her efforts, Kashyapa told her that her austerities would bear fruit and her wishes would be answered. “You shall have not one but two valiant sons. Through the auspices of the valakhilyas and my own efforts, both sons shall be blessed and worshipped everywhere.” Then Kashyapa son of Marichi cautioned his wife to take great care when she carried the seeds of life in her womb. “One of these shall be a great and powerful winged being, Indra among birdkind, capable of great feats and bestowed with nopareil powers.” Once the children were seeded within his wife’s womb, Kashyapa spoke to Indra, reassuring him. “Purandara, you need have no further cause for fear. I have ensured that both my sons from the daughter of Daksha will be winged creatures, not mortals or devas. They shall be as brothers to you.
You may cease your worrying. But you should learn a lesson from this incident. Never again insult or mock those who have knowledge of the brahman. Their words are as weapons, their fury terrible.” Relieved, Indra returned to his home world, Indraloka. In time, Vinata gave birth to two sons, both bird creatures, in the manner I have already described to you. The first son, the unformed one, became Aruna, who comes before the sun. The second who was fully formed and omnipotent, was Garuda, whose story I shall now continue . . .’

  ||Twelve||

  The devas were prepared to repulse any foe, however powerful. Undaunted, Garuda arrived at the site where they were protecting the sacred elixir. At the sight of Garuda, the gods began to quail. Some of them sought to surrender their arms as they believed Garuda to be indomitable, and their fellow devas grew furious at them and fights broke out among the gods themselves. In this chaos, Garuda began his assault. The first to bar his way was Vishwakarma, that famous architect among the gods, also known as Bhouvana. Determined to guard the soma with his life, he prepared to fight valiantly. But with a single flick of his claw, Garuda ripped Vishwakarma to shreds, then tore out his innards with his beak and flicked them aside with a beat of his wings. Then Garuda flapped his wings faster and faster, stirring the very earth itself into rising in a maelstrom. So great a quantity of dust churned through the air that nobody could see anything. Moving through this turmoil like an avenging force, Garuda slashed, bit, jabbed, pierced, and tore apart the devas as a raven tears worms from the ground.

  Indra rallied the Marut named Vayu, Lord of the Wind. ‘Clear this dust away instantly!’ he commanded. Shaken by the great bird’s attack, the god of the wind heard Indra’s command and obeyed. In moments, the dust cleared and all could see one another and Garuda again.