Meanwhile, in Indra’s palace, Takshaka was unable to resist the pull of the yagna’s power. He cried out in agony as the sacred mantras compelled him to fly to his doom and fainted dead away, helpless. Seeing his plight, Indra realized he could no longer protect Takshaka simply by keeping him here. He picked up the snake king, intending to keep his promise of sanctuary. As soon as he did so, he too felt the pull of the mantras drawing him downwards to earth.
Moved by the power of the yagna, Indra himself was forced to descend from his heavenly abode of Indraloka. Concealing Takshaka upon his person, hidden within the folds of his anga-vastra, he emerged from boiling clouds, accompanied by a great congregation of vidyadharas and apsaras. This heavenly host descended and landed upon the plain of Kurukshetra, approaching the site of the yagna.
‘Look, Raje!’ cried the brahmins of the yagna to Janamajaya. ‘Takshaka has been summoned by the power of our ritual. He can no longer resist or escape. Mighty Indra himself is compelled to bring him here, concealed in his garments. Soon you will accomplish the goal of this sacrifice and slay your father’s assassin!’
At this, Astika sent up a great shout of praise and broke into a song praising Janamajaya even more lavishly. So moving was his eloquence, and so pleased and relieved was Janamajaya at the success of his enterprise, that the king of the Kurus resolved to invite the young brahmin to join the yagna in time to participate in the slaying of Takshaka. In a sense, it was his presence that had provoked and motivated Janamajaya to put in the extra effort that had resulted in Takshaka’s summoning.
Astika was permitted at last to enter the last square and brought into the presence of the king. As he greeted the great liege, Janamajaya said, ‘Youth, the beauty and perfection of your singing has inspired me. I am greatly impressed by such talent in one so young. See for yourself. Takshaka, king of snakes, has been forced to come to the fire through the power of our mantras, carried by Lord Indra himself. In another moment, the Naga who killed my father will be dead at last. Will you participate in his demise? Come, sit beside me, and join the rite! Your singing has earned you the right to share in this great moment of my triumph!’
Astika joined his palms together, thanking Janamajaya for such a great honour. ‘Hastinapura-naresh, king of the Kurus, son of Parikshit, as you are pleased with my recitations and wish to thank me, and as I am a brahmin and you a kshatriya, I ask you for a gift. Do not refuse me.’
Janamajaya was in a magnanimous mood and answered, smiling, ‘Ask me anything and you shall have it.’
Astika bowed his head. ‘Then grant me only this boon. Halt this sacrifice this instant. Kill no more snakes.’
Janamajaya reacted as if struck by a sword. ‘Brahmin! What are you saying? I meant to thank you for your praises and talent. This is not what I had in mind! Ask me for anything—gold, silver, kine, anything you desire. But I cannot stop this sacrifice at this crucial juncture! We are about to fulfil our chief purpose! Soon Takshaka will be dead and the last of his kind will be exterminated!’
But Astika was firm. ‘You offered me a gift and you cannot refuse me now. Stop the sacrifice instantly. I will accept nothing less.’
Agitated and stricken by anxiety, Janamajaya begged and pleaded but to no avail. Astika remained resolute. Finally, the sadasyas present rose and came to Janamajaya, speaking to him sympathetically. ‘You have no choice now. You must concede to the young brahmin’s wish. We are stopping the sacrifice.’
||Twenty-three||
At this point, an extraordinary thing occurred. Rendered senseless by the power of the mantras, Takshaka was drawn forth from the folds of Indra’s garments. Pulled by an invisible force, the snake king’s inert body flew through the air, destined for the sacrificial fire where he would perish on contact with the flame. Indra reached out his hand to grasp the tail of the snake, but it slipped from his grasp. Janamajaya, harried by the brahmin boy’s demand and his own priests’ pronouncement, stared at the assassin of his father, flying through the air, an instant from his death. In another moment, Takshaka would fall into the flames and perish and his own goal would be accomplished. All Janamajaya need do was delay his answer by another heartbeat and he would succeed, despite the turn of events.
But Astika held out one small hand and spoke with a power belying his youth and innocence: ‘STAY!’ he cried.
The passage of the unconscious snake slowed visibly. Takshaka’s sleeping form continued to float but at a much slower pace, still moving toward the yagna fire.
‘STAY!’ Astika cried a second time.
Takshaka’s body slowed almost to a halt but still it crept toward the fire, as if even in his unconscious state, the king of snakes was compelled by the mantras and the tapas heat of the fire to proceed towards his own destruction.
‘STAY!’ Astika cried a third time.
And this time even the sky reverberated with his command. The vast plain of Samantapanchaka echoed with the single word, so powerfully uttered. For an instant, everything on that plain, man, beast, insect, wind, even the birds of the sky, paused motionless before continuing on their way.
But Takshaka hung rock-still in mid-air, only yards away from the pit of fire which had been designed chiefly to draw him and slay him. The senseless snake neither moved nor budged, but merely stayed suspended there.
Then Janamajaya, like all others present there, including the great Vyasa and Indra, turned to look at this young brahmin boy who possessed such spiritual power that he could stop the snake in mid-air, defying both the law of gravity as well as the combined spiritual power of all the thousands of brahmins present. He remembered the warning issued by the suta Lohitaksha who had studied the vaastu of the sacrificial site and cautioned him that the sacrifice was destined to be thwarted by a brahmin. The king of the Kurus knew then that this was what was meant to be. Regardless of what had gone before, of how righteous his own desire for vengeance, how powerful his yagna, he was meant to spare Takshaka and yield to the demand of a young brahmin boy.
He raised his hand and declared, ‘You have your wish, boy. Stop the yagna!’
As the chanting of the hotar and other officiating brahmins died away, a deafening silence fell across the site of the sarpa satra. The torrent of snakes stopped in mid-air, just as Takshaka had stopped.
Then with a great roar of exultation, the snakes broke free of the tractor beam of the brahman that controlled them. The sky exploded with colours as hundreds of thousands of snakes flew back to their respective abodes and habitats across the earth. Takshaka revived, opened his ruby-bright eyes, his hood rising, expanding himself to his fullest. Hissing with renewed vigour, the snake king shepherded his people away from the place where they had been brought to perish. Fleeing as rapidly as possible, in moments, all the snakes vanished from sight. The air was clear, the sky bright blue and cloudless and only the crackle and hiss of the yagna fire remained; even that slowly faded as the priests no longer poured oblations and the sadasyas ceased their activities.
Janamajaya was a righteous king who always obeyed dharma. Despite the abrupt cessation of the yagna and his failure to avenge his father’s assassination by killing Takshaka, he upheld his duties and responsibilities. Richly rewarding and compensating every single sadasya, purohit, hotar, and ritvija brahmin attendant at the satra, he sent them home enriched and smiling. He gave a special reward to the suta and builder Lohitaksha for his prediction had indeed come true. And then, in accordance with the steps prescribed by the shastras, he concluded the ritual formally. The sacred fire was banked, the site cleared. At last, after everyone had left, the king turned to the young brahmin boy who had single-handedly saved the line of snakes from extinction. Other kings might have been wroth at the boy for bringing the yagna to a halt before its chief aim was achieved. But Janamajaya had accepted the turn of events with magnanimous grace. Rather than be upset with Astika, he praised him for his boldness and spiritual strength. If he could achieve such a feat at this tender age, what might he not achie
ve when he had attained his full maturity? ‘I shall perform the rajasuya someday,’ Janamajaya told Astika, ‘for as king of the Kuru, I must reassert my dynasty’s dominion when the time is right. It would honour me if you consent to be a sadasya in that horse sacrifice.’ Astika smiled and agreed at once. Brahmin boy and Kshatriya king, neither bore ill will towards each other. Then both went their separate ways.
Returning home, Astika touched his mother’s and uncle’s feet and was warmly embraced by both in turn. Vasuki took him out of the house to show him the grassy slopes of the mountain on which their house rested. The mountainside was covered with snakes of every description, hue, and size. At the sight of their saviour, the snakes set up a tumultuous clamour. ‘These are some of the snakes you saved today,’ Vasuki told his nephew proudly. ‘You have saved our entire species from extinction. They wish to grant you a boon. Name anything you desire and you shall have it.’ Astika smiled and bowed with joined palms, greeting his kith and kin. ‘From this moment on, let no brahmin or mortal man, woman or child who reads this history of our species and the triumphant conclusion, ever have any reason to fear one of us. This account should be read with a calm disposition either in the morning or the evening for maximum benefit. The reader shall never have reason to fear being bitten by one of us, no matter the cause or provocation.’ As one, the Nagas replied, ‘It shall be so, exactly as you say, Astika son of Jaratkaru and Jaratkaru! All those who invoke your name, Astika, will be protected from our bite. In addition, those who remember the great sages Asita, Artimana and Sunitha at any time, day or night, shall also be safe from our venom always.’
Astika went on to become a great sage, magnificent in austerities, perfect in dharma, and engendered many children and grandchildren of his own, furthering his line prodigiously. In due course, after a long illustrious life, when his time was ended, he found a peaceful death.
||Paksha Seven||
THE BIRTH OF VYASA
||One||
Rishi Krishna Dweipayana Vyasa, hearing that Raja Janamajaya had instated himself at the sarpa satra, proceeded to grace the yagna with his august presence. The greatest of storytellers, even the three parts of his name told three stories. Krishna, the Dark One, because he was exceptionally dark-skinned even for our race, after his mother, the virgin Kali, so named for her ebony skin, later known as Satyavati. Dweipayana, Island-Born, because he was indeed born on an island in the river Yamuna. And Vyasa, because he collated the one great body of vedic shlokas and invocations into four distinct Vedic books, literally by division or vyasa. Arriving at Samantapanchaka, he was received with great joy and respect by his descendant Janamajaya, who offered his forebear a seat of gold, as the great Indra had once offered Brihaspati, preceptor of the gods. Janamajaya then performed the arghya ritual for his ancestor, offering the sage water to wash his feet and mouth, then greeting him with all due ritual and ceremony, ending with the gift of a cow as befitted a visiting brahmin. Vyasa graciously accepted all with pleasure, blessing his descendant. Janamajaya then sat on a seat lower than Vyasa and enquired after his great-grandfather’s health. After they had exchanged various pleasantries and the other ritvijas had interacted as well with the august personage, Janamajaya enquired, ‘Great father, I hear that you have composed an epic poem narrating in full the account of the great Maha Bharata war involving our family. In that work, I have been told, you have recited the great exploits of the Kauravas and the Pandavas and their histories. What was the reason for the great conflict between the two lines of our family? Why did my grandfathers, such great men all, go to war against their own blood-brothers? What were the terrible events that led to the downfall of the great Kuru dynasty and the deaths of countless Kuru? Pray, tell me all. Narrate if you will, your great poetic composition. I dearly wish to know the itihasa of my family.’
Vyasa turned to his foremost disciple who was seated by his side. ‘Vaisampayana, relate exactly as you heard me recite, the brief history of the Maha Bharata war, which I composed.’ Vaisampayana bowed to his guru first, then to all present, invoked the appropriate blessings and epigrams, then narrated an outline of the main events of the great conflict for Janamajaya’s benefit. The Kuru king listened with great interest, then said, ‘This is a brief history of the chief events. I now wish to know the entire history in all its details.’ Vyasa said, ‘You shall know it. The whole epic is one hundred thousand shlokas. It has many beginnings and many ends. Let us begin with one such beginning.’ He then instructed Vaisampayana to tell the story.
||Two||
There once lived a king named Vasu of the Kuru line. A great warrior, his exploits were renowned across all the worlds, and even mighty Indra the storm-thrower learned of him and came to befriend him out of respect. After many wars and campaigns, he tired of violence and began to meditate on his actions. In time, he grew engrossed in austerities and pursued a hermit’s life with the same intensity that had driven him to so many military successes. Observing his rapid spiritual progress, Indra feared that if Vasu continued in this vein, he might someday gain enough power to rival the king of gods himself! Seeking to prevent such a possibility, the thunder-wielding god appeared before Uparichara one day. ‘Lord of the world. Your dharma requires you to protect others. Only through the protection of others can you fulfil your dharma. This alone is the righteous path that you must follow if you wish to attain to other worlds more sacred than this mortal realm.’ Indra then told his friend of a place which rivalled even the heavenly realms. A place of indescribable beauty, perfect climate, ample food, natural resources, animals, beautiful sights, and great cities filled with righteous people, it was a paradise on earth. In that place, nobody ever told a lie. Children never turned against their parents, not even to claim their inheritances, and served their elders respectfully and diligently. The cows were always healthy and no farmer lacked a strong ox to draw his plough. All people went about their work without complaint or disagreement and performed their duties immaculately. This place was named Chhedi.
To entice Vasu further, and turn him away from the dangerous path of austerities, Indra gave him gifts that would aid him in his campaign to conquer the paradisiacal kingdom. First, he gave him a resplendent flying chariot, a vimana made wholly of crystal. Around his friend’s neck he hung a magical garland of perennially fresh lotus blossoms, called Vaijayanti, which literally meant the garland of victory. And finally, he gave him also a staff made of bamboo that he might plant it in the earth of the place he conquered, as a sign that Indra himself guaranteed protection to the new king of that realm. Vasu did as Indra said, reassembled his army, and set out to conquer Chhedi. After a year, he planted the bamboo staff in the ground. After decorating it with garlands, perfumed incense, ornaments and baskets, his people worshipped Indra in his form of Shakra by bowing to that symbol of his protection. Pleased with Vasu’s actions and by his subsequent show of homage, Indra blessed the people of Chhedi, prophesying that so long as the kings and people of that kingdom worshipped him and celebrated his annual festival, they would enjoy prosperity and victory forever. At this generous blessing the people gave Indra the epithet, Maghavan, the Generous One.
In time, Vasu had five sons. Blessed as they were with infinite valour and might, he granted each of them their own kingdom to rule. His son Brihadratha earned the title of Maharatha through his exploits, meaning a warrior capable of facing ten thousand warriors single-handedly; Brihadratha was given the kingdom of Magadha.
His other sons were given territories where they established their own city-state kingdoms, named after them: Pratyagraha Manivahana, Kushamba Macchilla, Yadu, and a fifth son, ruled the great kingdom of Chhedi. Vasu travelled where he pleased in the crystal vimana given by Indra, sweeping across the earth like a god. For his ability to travel in the upper realms, he earned the epithet Uparichara and was thereafter known as Uparichara Vasu.
Near the city of Chhedi, capital of the kingdom, flowed a river named Shuktimati. So beautiful was this river that a
mountain on its course named Kolahola was overcome with lust for her. Unable to bear his unrequited longing, the mountain finally seized hold of the river, preventing her from flowing past him. When Vasu saw the river’s plight, he dealt the mountain a powerful kick, breaking it open, and freeing the river. Shuktimati had conceived from the mountain’s embrace and the result of their union was a pair of twins. In return for saving her, she gifted the twins to Uparichara Vasu. One was a beautiful boy, the other a stunningly alluring girl. He made the son his senapati, general of his armies. The daughter was named Girika and when she came of age, he married her. Girika’s beauty was legendary and the king took great pleasure in their union. He looked forward to their time together in the marital chamber. Girika dearly desired to have offspring and welcomed his embraces, even choosing the suitable time for their coition and sending for him on these occasions, that they might benefit from their joining.
MAHABHARATA SERIES BOOK#1: The Forest of Stories (Mba) Page 21