Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer

by Usha Narayanan

  Watching the beloved mother of the universe grow pale with grief, Vayu ventured into her presence as a gentle breeze and whispered in her ear. Being present everywhere as air, he perceived matters that were hidden even from the other devas.

  ‘I saw what happened to Shiva’s tejas, Devi,’ he said now. ‘When the other gods stood dazzled by its brilliance, the fire god and his wife stole it.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ asked Parvati, her eyes blazing with hope. But Vayu had rushed away, unwilling to be caught in a battle between gods more powerful than he was.

  ‘I will find him!’ declared the goddess. ‘I will wrench back what Agni has stolen. My son, O my son! I will bring you home and cherish you like no mother has before. I will guide your little steps, adorn you with stars, offer you the sweetest delicacies. And I will make you even greater than your father, investing my love and powers in you.’

  Vishnu’s eyes filled with tears as he saw his sister long for her missing child. ‘Parvati is caught up in the illusions of the world, Narada,’ he said to his devotee. ‘She has forgotten that she is the Lokamata from whose eyes nothing is hidden.’

  ‘Give me leave, Narayana, to go tell her what happened,’ said Narada, his eyes moist as well.

  But the lord of Vaikunta shook his head. ‘It is not our place to reveal the truth, Narada,’ he said. ‘The world will soon come to know and to marvel. The story will inspire all men with the wisdom to perceive the infinite truth hidden under the illusion. When I was born as Krishna, I showed my mother, Yashoda, the whole world in my mouth. I showed her the stars, the planets, the earth, our own little village and, finally, her own self gazing into my mouth. But when I closed my mouth, she forgot everything, caught up again in maya. When I went out to graze the cattle, she always said, “Krishna, if you should come upon wild beasts, pray to Narayana for protection!” I would hide my smile, unable to tell her that he was me and I was him. Such is a mother’s love and nothing matters to her except the well-being of her child.’

  Parvati began her quest for Agni who hid in a lake to escape her rage. But the waters grew unbearably hot and the frogs living there told the goddess that the fire god was hiding in the depths. Agni cursed them for betraying him, saying that they would have no tongues henceforth, and quickly escaped from the waters. But Gauri blessed the frogs for helping her. ‘You will have longer tongues than before,’ she said. ‘And they will help you capture insects faster than the eye can blink!’ She came across some elephants next as she continued her quest. They worshipped her with fragrant lilies and told her that they had seen Agni hiding in a peepal tree. Agni cursed the elephants, saying that their tongues would be set deep inside their mouths thereafter. But the goddess blessed them saying that this would not prevent them from enjoying the foods they liked or uttering sounds. ‘Indeed, your trumpeting will resound through the jungle, striking all the creatures with dread,’ she said. Then the fire god entered a bamboo tree, but left in a hurry when it began to emit smoke due to his heat. He next hid in a shami tree, but the parrots who lived on its branches betrayed him to Gauri. ‘You will lose your power of speech,’ cursed Agni, but the goddess said to the parrots, ‘Your voices will be divine and your prattle sweet as a child’s!’ She froze Agni in his tracks, preventing him from escaping this time.

  Her rage intensified by the long chase, Parvati stormed at Agni. ‘Foolish deva, give me back the orb containing Shiva’s life force that you stole. Where did you hide my son? Tell me at once or be cursed forever!’

  ‘It is true that Svaha and I carried him away, Devi,’ Agni said. ‘But we no longer have him.’ Parvati raised her hand to curse him and he quickly added, ‘We took turns bearing him through the skies for as long as we could. But the heat was too much even for my fiery body. Finally, we were forced to leave him behind.’

  ‘Where?’ she roared.

  ‘We dropped the tejas in the Ganga, my goddess,’ Agni confessed.

  ‘So you abandoned him in the rushing waters, treacherous creature! A young and innocent infant left alone in the wilds!’

  ‘N-no, Mother!’ Agni stuttered in fear. ‘Would I commit such a sin? Svaha stayed behind to watch over the infant until he found his rightful place in Kailasa. I do not know where he is now, Devi, but Ganga must know. She will help you find him, for she is your sister.’

  ‘Ganga! A true sister would have told me at once that my son was in her care. Her actions prove that I was right to shed my body as her sister Sati. Like her father Daksha—for he is no longer my father—she too has played me false. I will confront her and snatch my son back.’

  She hurried to the shores of the mighty river where it thundered down hills, shattering rocks and boulders with its powerful surge. ‘Come to me, Ganga!’ she called out. ‘Come before me and answer my charge. You stole my son and kept him from me. You harmed your sister with whom you once shared a home and a life. How can you wash away the sins of mortals, Ganga, when you are so unworthy? Where is my little one? Return him to me at once or be cursed from this day forward!’

  ‘Stop threatening me, Sister!’ said Ganga, rising up in fierce waves and flurries. ‘You are disrespectful to the goddess whom Shiva wears in his crown. You speak from the arrogance born of your marriage to him.’

  ‘Is that why you kept my child? Are you jealous that I married the god who wears the skies as his garments? Speak now, Ganga, or you will suffer.’ She raised her hand in anger.

  Agni, who had come with her because he too wished to discover the whereabouts of the orb, stood watching in terror. Parvati was Shakti, no doubt, but Ganga was powerful too, flowing as she did from Shiva’s locks to bless the earth with her sacred waters. It was also widely known that each of them wished to show the world that she was the one favoured by Shiva.

  Ganga foamed, her waves lashing the banks. ‘Did you give birth to him, Parvati, that you claim him as your son?’ she retorted. ‘Did you even know of his existence or care to find out until this moment? But I cared for him when you did not. I protected him when you were dancing merrily in Kailasa. He is more my son than yours, though you may bully me with your husband’s powers.’

  ‘Shiva and I are equals. If he is powerful, so am I. As Ardhanarishwara, we occupy equal halves of one body. So, any son born of Shiva is mine as well,’ Parvati countered. ‘Return him to me or I will curse your waters to run dry!’

  They argued furiously, setting the mountain shaking. Who would win? And where was the child, if he had been born? Agni fled from the place, afraid that the two would turn on him together. Moreover, Indra had summoned him to fight alongside him in a battle elsewhere.

  The conflict between the devas and Skanda raged fiercely, with the child now fighting alone, as his comrades had retired from the field, wounded. The triumphant devas rained down weapons on him—spears, javelins, maces, arrows and clubs, confident that he would soon be destroyed. Skanda roared in defiance, shattering the mountain tops and frightening the beasts the gods rode. The devas had to curb their fear before continuing their fight against the solitary combatant who stood atop the high peak, looking furiously at them with his six faces.

  ‘He needs a mount or he will lose,’ whispered Ulluck. ‘If only I could fly!’ He was in pain from his many wounds, as he had been pierced by the devas’ arrows when he stood watching.

  ‘We could carry him, but he tells us we are too young,’ wept Suparni’s sons and daughters.

  ‘Skanda himself is too young. Why do the gods wish to kill a child so marvellous and divine?’ cried the rishi patnis. ‘Is there no one to help him, lend him a strong back and powerful wings?’

  Just then a brilliant flash of lightning struck the mountaintop. The watchers cried out in horror and strained their dazzled eyes. Had the storm god destroyed the child? Had their loving Skanda been killed even before he had started living? But no! They could see him standing still, staring at a stranger who had flashed down to his side. The newcomer was a luminous elephant with huge wings.

 
; Skanda looked at him with puzzled eyes. ‘Who are you? I have never seen an elephant with wings before!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘They call me Taruna, the youthful one,’ said the elephant, smiling at him and then stuffing a banana into his mouth. ‘But perhaps we can talk later!’ He stepped aside nimbly to dodge an axe that a deva had hurled at his head.

  Skanda smiled back at him and vaulted on to his back. His arrows flew like fire, hundreds of them, burning up the armies of the gods. The fire singed the gods themselves, sending them floundering earthwards like burning comets. Their weapons were reduced to ashes and their chariots destroyed. Skanda discovered that his fabulous mount was a valiant fighter too. Taruna corralled their enemies with a noose, yanking them off their mounts. He used his long trunk to hurl giant axes that materialized before him like magic. The devas heard the two chortling in delight as together they scattered the heavenly host. Finding that he was losing his army, Indra used his vajra, whose power was so fierce that no creature had ever been able to withstand it. The thunderbolt roared forth, spewing fire, and struck the child on his side. However, he remained unshaken, seated firmly on the elephant’s back. And from his body, where the weapon had struck, emerged a splendid warrior who flew through the air at Indra, attacking him with a golden bow and glinting arrows. Unable to believe that his vajra had failed to kill the boy, Indra used his vajra twice more. Two more warriors emerged, clad in golden armour. The three newcomers assailed their foes with relentless force. ‘It appears that the child can multiply himself into many forms,’ murmured Indra, even as Airavata fell, sending Indra tumbling down the mountain slopes.

  ‘O, Prajapati!’ Indra shouted at the skies, recalling a boon given to him by the deity who ruled over all beings. ‘When I rescued your daughter from a demon, you promised that a powerful warrior would be born to marry her and to lead the deva sena. Where is the senapati now?’ It was evident that he could not win the war against the child and his indomitable elephant. He looked sadly at his muscled arms that were now covered in blood. His armour was torn and the fine robes he wore beneath it were blackened. His eyes filled with angry tears. Where was Shiva when they needed him? Even Vishnu, who always protected the devas, had not come down to help them. Perhaps Brahma had given this boy a boon too, as he often did to the most unworthy souls. The Trimurti were to blame for the present plight of the devas. He himself had fought valiantly but had not been able to destroy this mortal child. He could not retreat either, for then his own devas would laugh at him and wonder if they should depose him. His mind quickly came up with a dark and devious plan. Thankfully, the three new warriors had merged with the boy again, and he needed to kill just one.

  Indra ordered Yama to attack the youngster from the front. Then he approached his foe stealthily from behind, with his sword at the ready. Agni blazed towards the mountain top in answer to Indra’s summons and saw the battle scene before him. His eyes lit up on seeing the radiant child and he gasped in awe. Could he be the one born from the divine orb? he wondered. ‘Save him, my lord! He is our son!’ he heard Svaha cry out to him. He glimpsed her standing on the sidelines in her garudi form, her broken wing indicating her helplessness. When he turned towards Skanda again, he saw that Indra was just a sword’s length away from the child. He would be too late to save him.

  ‘Watch out behind you, child!’ Agni cried out as he jumped into the fray. However, Skanda’s mount had already whirled around to face Indra. Agni took on Yama then, raising his axe threateningly. Skanda’s clubs assailed Indra with tremendous force, badly wounding him. He turned and fled, distraught that his deceitful plan had not succeeded. Yama too turned tail and followed the other devas back to Amaravati.

  ‘See how the celestial army retreats!’ laughed Taruna. ‘I anticipated their treachery, for they always use dishonest means when they are unable to win.’ They flew down to the throng that was anxiously watching them from a clearing below. Taruna produced some juicy mangoes and offered one to his friend. ‘We must keep up our strength after our fight!’ he said, laughing gaily.

  ‘Why did Agni warn the demon child?’ fumed Indra, seated again on his throne in his capital. ‘If he had not done so, I could have killed him. Does he know something I do not? If he does, why did he hide it from me, his king? He must pay for his insolence. I must find out whether he is plotting against me with my enemy. As for that flying elephant—where did he come from? He almost throttled me with his terrible noose. What a disgrace that the deva raja should be defeated by a tottering child and his army of beasts! News of our defeat will soon spread across the realms. Surapadma will laugh at us and humiliate us further if we return to his court. Let us go to Kailasa instead and seek Shiva’s help. We still do not know what happened to the orb carrying his life force. Nor do we have a saviour to free us from the asura rule. Alas, we have been reduced to a dire plight because Shiva favours the asuras instead of the gods!’

  But when he and the other devas reached Kailasa, Nandi would not allow them to disturb Shiva who was engaged in a spiritual debate with the sages. ‘Nandi! Do not stand in the way of Devendra!’ stormed Indra. But Nandi would not relent. When his bluster did not work, Indra turned to flattery. ‘Forgive me, Nandi, for my anguish led me to lose my temper. Only you and your indomitable master can help us. You know that the asuras torment us in terrible ways. We have come to plead with Shiva to intervene. Allow us to stay here and meditate on him until he grants us his darshan.’ Nandi was moved by his words and nodded consent. Indra sighed, relieved that he was safe for the moment.

  But elsewhere, his people were in danger. A cruel force had entered the ramparts of Amaravati, cloaked in sorcery. Indra’s queen, his young son Jayanta, and his celestial kingdom were under threat.

  6

  Harihara Putra

  ‘Om Bhootanathaya Vidhmahe Bhava Nandanaya Dheemahi Tanno Shasta Prachodayat’

  ‘Om! Let us meditate on Shasta, the lord of all beings. May Shiva’s son illumine our mind and understanding.’

  Nandana, the fabulous garden that Indra had created for his queen, echoed with the sweet voice of Indrani, praying to her favoured deity, Shasta. As she chanted his praise, she showered his idol with fragrant tulasi and blue lotuses. She made offerings of fruits and sweets rich with cardamom, cashews, honey and dates. Apsaras danced and sang in the skies above. Honeybees buzzed and iridescent sunbirds fluttered over flowers, gleaming crimson, cobalt, lavender and pink. The air was perfumed by starry parijata blossoms with orange hearts. The Kalpavriksha, the tree of eternity, soared high amid a grove of sandalwood trees. Spotted deer, wild geese and flamingoes darted among the trees and pools.

  A babbling brook encircled the golden pavilion in which stood the shrine of Shasta, enveloped in a cloud of incense, vermilion and the golden glow of polished lamps. Clad in yellow silk, the god appeared to be smiling at Indrani, one hand lifted in blessing. In his other hands, he bore weapons like a mace, a chakra, a trident and a whip. Her young son, Jayanta, eagerly waited for her to finish her worship so that he could taste the offerings and listen to her stories of the gods. ‘Mother, you have told me about Shiva’s third eye and about Vishnu’s avatars on earth,’ he said, as she smeared sandal paste on his forehead. ‘Now tell me about this Shasta whom you pray to every day. Whose son is he? Why do you favour him above the other gods?’

  ‘I offer thanks to him every day because you were born through his blessing, my darling son,’ she replied. ‘And no god is more merciful or powerful than Harihara Putra, who is the son of Shiva and Vishnu.’

  ‘How can that be?’ questioned her son, his brows knitted in puzzlement.

  ‘This happened at a time when the gods had lost all their power due to Sage Durvasa’s curse and were at the mercy of the asuras. Vishnu counselled them to churn the cosmic sea and acquire the nectar of immortality that would make them powerful again. “You are too weak to complete the task yourself, so enlist the help of the asuras,” he said. “But ensure that they do not drink the amrit. Use
Mount Mandara as the churn and the serpent Vasuki as the rope.” They did as he asked them to, but the mountain began to sink into the ocean as it was too heavy. Vishnu took the form of a huge tortoise in order to hold it steady on his back. The halahala poison emerged first from the ocean and Shiva swallowed it in order to save the earth’s creatures. More treasures appeared then—the divine cow, Kamadhenu, the goddess of wealth, Lakshmi, and many more. Finally, Dhanvantari, a form of Vishnu, appeared before them, holding the pot of nectar. A terrible fight ensued between the asuras and devas as each side wanted it all. Vishnu sought the grace of Devi Lalita, the highest form of Shakti, and merged into her. He then took on her form, transforming himself into the beauteous Mohini. The enchantress distributed the amrit among the devas, restoring all their powers. The asuras who had been watching her, bedazzled by her charms, finally realized that they had been cheated of the nectar. They fought furiously, but the devas, made invincible by the nectar, defeated them and exiled them to the netherworld. Shiva hurried to catch a glimpse of his Devi as Mohini. He gazed at her enthralled, and she looked back at him with melting eyes. And in that moment, the powers of Vishnu and Shiva came together to create their radiant son, Shasta.’

  ‘The son of Hari and Hara!’ said her son, looking at her in wide-eyed wonder. ‘Where did he grow up, in Kailasa or Vaikunta?’

  ‘Vishnu resumed his own form and returned to Vaikunta, leaving the child with Shiva and Parvati. The mother of the universe coddled the child in her arms, looking adoringly at his coral lips, his magnetic eyes and his glowing cheeks. She dressed him in blue silk and adorned him with rare jewels and golden anklets. His earrings glittered like the sun and the moon, and the rishis and devas came to worship the luminous child. Shiva named him Shasta, lord of the world. Parvati declared that he would show himself to his devotees in the form of a child, a married man and an ascetic, teaching them how they should live during the different stages of life. Lakshmi came in haste to see the child and took him with her to Vaikunta, her heart overflowing with love. She placed him on her lap and fed him delicacies while the apsaras danced before them. However, the child’s eyes were drawn to the Kshira Saagar that stretched below them. He slipped away from Lakshmi and began to drink up the ocean of milk. Vishnu saw the illusory child that Shasta had left behind when he escaped and laughingly told him, “Please spare the ocean which is my abode, son.” Then he asked his attendants to bring the child kheer and other sweet dishes instead.’