Jayanta laughed merrily, wondering how the milk ocean would taste. Indrani continued her story. ‘The child grew up loving and wise, entertaining them with his playfulness while also learning the Vedas and the art of wielding weapons from his father, Shiva. And on earth, people worship Harihara Putra in many temples where he blesses them with everything their hearts desire.’
Jayanta nestled against his mother, with his head resting on her shoulder. The mother and son drew comfort from each other in the absence of Indra. Their garden remained a sanctuary and an island of serenity. But not for much longer . . .
Trouble entered in the form of Surapadma’s sister, Ajamukhi, the one with the face of a goat. Protected by her brothers, she did as she pleased, taking lovers at will and killing them once she grew tired of them. She had rampaged across the earth and come here now, her heart filled with hate, desiring to avenge the death of her sons, Ilvala and Vatapi. The two of them, fortified by a boon from Brahma, had made it a practice to kill sages by employing a terrible ruse. They would invite the unsuspecting victim to a grand feast at their mansion. Ilvala would cut his brother into pieces, cook him and serve him as meat to the guest. When the sage finished his dinner, Ilvala would call his brother Vatapi, who would come out alive and whole, tearing through the sage’s abdomen. The asura brothers would then celebrate, feasting on the flesh of their victim.
However, the great sage Agastya sensed the trick while eating the feast they served him. And before Ilvala could summon his brother, the sage rubbed his abdomen and murmured ‘Vatapi Jirnobhava’—let Vatapi be digested. The asura was unable to return to life, and the angry Agastya reduced his brother to ashes too. Distraught at the loss of her sons, Ajamukhi killed the sages on earth and destroyed their ashrams. Still angry, she had now come to Amaravati, looking for more victims to torment. Her hate-filled eyes fell on the Nandana, glowing with lustrous trees and blossoms not to be seen anywhere else. She stormed into the garden that was filled with birdsong and perfumed winds.
‘Indra’s garden, a tribute to his wife!’ she growled. Once she had come upon Indra when he was performing tapasya in a forest of peepal trees. To see him was to desire him, for he was magnificent of form, and his body and face now glowed with the lustre of his austerities. Ajamukhi laughed with perverse joy for fate had delivered him into her hands while he was praying for relief from her asura brothers. She mated with him by force, threatening him with the power of Surapadma, and gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Krutya. The monstrous child, born of her uncontrolled lust, was always hungry and ate everything in sight. She left a swathe of death behind her, seizing and devouring man and beast, laughing at their pitiful attempts to escape.
Powerful sages, tormented by her attacks, came together to perform a yagna seeking Shasta’s intervention. The merciful god appeared before them, his bow raised in his left hand, a sword in his right. ‘I will drive Krutya from earth, great souls,’ he said. ‘But I must seek my father’s permission first, for Krutya is Indra’s daughter.’ Shiva advised him to banish Krutya into the ocean where she would be unable to harm anyone. Though Krutya fought fiercely using her occult powers, Shasta captured her with his noose. ‘You must live in the ocean hereafter and stop preying on humans,’ he told her. ‘If you set foot on land, my noose will find you and kill you. Henceforth, all devotees who take a holy dip in the sea will make offerings to satisfy your hunger, even if it is just mud and stones.’
Now, when Ajamukhi heard the voices of Indrani and her son, her rage mounted. She had lost her three children while Indra’s wife lived happily, delighting in the love of her husband and son. She gnashed her teeth as she remembered how Indra had stayed silent when his daughter had been banished. Moreover, this wretch was singing the praises of Shasta, the very god who had punished Krutya. Ajamukhi decided to seize Indrani’s son, torture him in the asura dungeons and make his parents grieve as she did.
‘Where is Indra, foolish woman?’ she shouted, startling Indrani and Jayanta, who sprang to their feet. ‘Where is the coward who disowned me and abandoned his daughter when she was being hounded by this god of yours?’ The mother instinctively tried to protect Jayanta by placing him behind her, but the boy thrust her aside and stood facing the fearsome asura woman.
‘I stand here in my father’s stead,’ said the boy. ‘Who are you and why do you befoul our sacred garden in this manner?’
‘I am Ajamukhi, sister of Surapadma, the lord of the realms. I have come here to take you prisoner in his name. Your mother, however, will enter his harem, where he will destroy her soul and then hand her over to his guards to take their pleasure.’ She laughed aloud, enjoying Indrani’s look of panic.
Jayanta rushed forward to throttle her with his bare hands, for he had come unarmed to join his mother’s prayers. Ajamukhi gestured with a careless hand and her massive guards overpowered the boy, pinioning his arms.
‘Come with me willingly, Indrani, or I will drag you in ropes to my brother’s court,’ said Ajamukhi. ‘Your son is but a child, and my men have already seized him. The cowardly Indra must be in hiding, fearing Sura’s ferocity. I would advise you to enjoy my brother’s attentions while you can, for he is a far greater lover than Indra could ever be. He will give you greater joy in one moment than Indra can provide in a lifetime! Accept your fate, foolish woman. What choice do you have but to obey me?’
‘Ajamukhi! You have proved yourself to be a worthy granddaughter of Diti, with your heart filled with hate. But consider for a moment that you are also of the lineage of noble Kashyapa!’ the queen retorted. ‘Do not bring shame to him by your actions. Do not forget that in Indra’s absence, I am protected by the gods.’
‘The gods who have fled in fear? It is you who must remember that even Brahma waits on my brother’s pleasure. If you should doubt my powers, call out to your gods now. See if they answer your call.’
‘Maha Shasta! Harihara Putra! Bhootanatha! Answer the call of your ardent devotee. Save me, great one!’ Indrani cried out, her hands joined over her head in prayer.
Sura’s sister jeered at Indrani’s faith in her gods, and her attendants joined her in mocking their victim.
‘Take her prisoner! Bind her and drag her to my chariot,’ shouted Ajamukhi to her guards. Jayanta struggled to break free of his bonds, his jaw clenched and his face turning red. Still the queen remained calm, her eyes closed in prayer. The deer she fed each day shed silent tears; the parrots hushed their prattle. All nature waited in fear, mourning the horror that had visited the loving soul. The massive asuras surged forward, eager to lay rough hands on the delicate queen.
Then rose a wild clamour that broke the silence. They heard the beat of frenzied drums, the martial call of trumpets and war conches. The sky darkened and a horde of ganas descended from the skies, their bodies like small hills, their heads those of lions, bears and crocodiles. Their eyes burned red; their fangs were long and sharp like a boar’s tusks. And in their arms they carried boulders and clubs, spears and maces.
Ajamukhi and her troops watched thunderstruck as a blinding light flashed on them. Down the celestial path rode Shasta on a black horse, holding aloft a trident and chakra, the weapons favoured by Shiva and Vishnu. He bore other weapons in his many arms—whip, sword, axe, mace and bow. The ganas howled, baring their teeth and leaping up and down in their eagerness to attack the asuras. Shasta turned his radiant face towards them and they fell silent. ‘Let us not shatter the sanctity of this garden with sounds of battle,’ he said. ‘Let me try to reason with the intruders first.’ But Ajamukhi was set on her path and had already begun to drag Indrani to her aerial chariot. ‘Set Indrani and her son free!’ said Shasta. ‘Or you will pay dearly for your actions.’
‘Do you know that you are threatening Surapadma’s sister?’ she asked, certain that he would tremble before her now. ‘Run away before I order my men to tear you apart!’
But Shasta did not flee. Instead, he rode swiftly forward and blocked her way. ‘I am Shasta,
the son of Hari and Hara!’ he thundered. ‘The powers of the supreme gods are united in me. Look upon the glorious Harihara and give up your thoughts of fighting me.’
The ganas gasped at the stunning vision that Shasta revealed to them. Brilliant Harihara appeared before them, fusing the forms of Vishnu and Shiva, with the divide running down the middle. One half of the body was like dark blue sapphire, glittering with jewels and sandal paste. The other half was jasmine white, adorned by serpents and holy ash. The curly locks on one side were crowned by a diadem and the jata on the other by the crescent moon. A bull and a giant bird stood alongside, looking in reverence at the god bearing both chakra and trident. The sages congregated in the skies to see the divine sight. The asuras shuddered and shut their eyes tight.
Then, in a flash, the vision vanished and they stood gazing with dazed eyes at Shasta, who waited for Ajamukhi to decide on her next action. Would she realize the dreadful consequences of fighting this indomitable god? Or would she persist in sin, her mind clouded by her ego?
Ajamukhi laughed, shrill and loud, her face twisted with hate. She did not deign to answer but pulled again at the weeping Indrani, striking her brutally when she tried to resist. Two of her men lifted Jayanta bodily and threw him into the chariot. The ganas looked to their god, waiting for his command. Shasta gestured to his ferocious attendant, Mahakala, who smashed down the two asuras holding Jayanta and set the boy free. The god nodded to the ganas who fell upon the asuras and began to slaughter them. Jayanta seized an axe from one of the ganas and joined the attack. The asuras raised their fierce weapons to attack, but the weapons flew from their hands and fell at Shasta’s feet as flowers. Bewildered and terrified, the asuras fled from their foes. But Shasta’s whip flew from his hand, growing larger with every passing moment, releasing axes, spears and swords that attacked the asuras. One by one, they fell, bleeding from a hundred wounds, their heads severed from their bodies. Soon all the asuras had been killed, and Ajamukhi stood alone. The whip shrank in size and returned to Shasta’s hand.
Adamant still, Ajamukhi cursed the god, threatening him with swift retribution from her brothers.
‘Let Indrani go, and I will spare you,’ said Shasta in final warning. With one hand, he stayed Jayanta who was eager to fight Ajamukhi and rescue his mother.
Ajamukhi forced Indrani into her chariot and turned to face him defiantly. Shasta’s sword flew forth like silver fire and cut off the arm holding the queen. Sura’s sister howled in shock and pain. A dazed Indrani came running towards her saviour.
‘Do not think you will get away with this!’ screamed Ajamukhi as blood poured like a torrent from the stump of her arm. ‘I am going now, but only to bring my brother’s forces to avenge this insult. Run and hide if you want, but we will still find you!’ She fled from there in disarray, guiding her chariot herself as all her troops were dead.
‘My ganas will take you both to safety,’ said Shasta, raising a hand in blessing over Indrani and her son.
Jayanta hugged his mother close, wiped her tears and told her, ‘Mother, please go with the ganas to safety. I will stay here to guard our people until my father returns with Shiva’s blessings. You must know that Surapadma and his brothers will not rest until they make us pay for the asuras’ defeat. It is not right that our people should be without a leader at this juncture.’
‘You are but a child, Jayanta. How can you fight the asura army? Come with me, son, for I cannot bear the thought of losing you!’ pleaded the mother. But he stood firm and she finally left with the ganas.
Shasta smiled at the gallant child. ‘I must return now to the future,’ he said. ‘Many souls pray to me for succour.’
‘Return to the future? How is that possible?’ asked Jayanta, his eyes widening with curiosity. ‘Can I have a glimpse too, great god?’
Shasta nodded. ‘Satya, Treta, Dwapara and Kali are the four yugas that are repeated in every kalpa,’ he said. ‘The fight between gods and asuras is played out eternally, with the events unfolding in different ways in different ages. Hence, the future becomes the past and the past becomes the future. Come with me and I will show you my life on earth as Ayyappa. You can also see the role played by your father in my story!’
Harihara Putra held Jayanta’s hand and time unfurled before them like the spiral of Vishnu’s conch. Jayanta was transported to another age, where he could witness events from above though he could not take part in them.
The king of the Pandala dynasty, Rajasekhara, was on a hunting expedition and decided to pause awhile on the banks of Pampa River. He was shocked when he came upon an infant lying all alone on the soft sands, merrily kicking his feet. How can someone abandon a precious baby in this manner? he wondered. He himself had been praying for a long time to be blessed with a child. Then he gasped when he saw a huge black cobra looming over the child with its hood raised. The king jumped from his horse and ran swiftly forward, with his bow at the ready, hoping that he would be able to kill the snake before it struck. His men stood frozen, afraid that their movement could set it off. Would the king be able to reach the child in time? If the child was bitten, it would be impossible to save him, as they were far from their palace and the medicine men. The snake rose higher, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. The king notched an arrow and prepared to let it fly. Would he be too late?
To his surprise, the snake suddenly dropped to the ground and began to slither away. Had he missed its lightning strike on the child? He did not think so, but he could not be sure. He raced forward, dropping the bow on the sand. The snake had vanished into the bushes. He dropped to the ground and picked the child up. The child seemed unhurt, his skin unmarked. He wondered for a moment whether the cobra had been guarding the child, and not attacking him. The infant’s eyes were twinkling in a face that was beautiful and radiant! Perhaps he had been left here in answer to his prayers. His heart told him that this was the son he had been longing for. The king had his chariot brought forward, and ceremoniously lifted the child into it. He hurried home to show the child to his queen and told her that he would henceforth be their son. They named him Manikanta, after the glowing jewel that adorned his neck. The child showed early signs of wisdom, grasping the intricacies of the shastras and the Vedas by the time he was twelve. He proved equally adept with weapons and mastered Kalaripayattu, an ancient and powerful martial art first taught by Shiva to the warrior sage Parashurama.
Jayanta watched in wide-eyed surprise as Manikanta’s life swiftly unfolded and waited to see how destiny shaped his future. A hurdle soon arose. Rajasekhara loved the child fiercely. ‘Make preparations to crown Manikanta king,’ he said to his ministers. But the queen was not happy with his decision, as she had given birth to a son and wanted him to succeed to the throne. She came up with an evil plot to get rid of Manikanta.
‘I am tortured by unrelenting pain in my stomach,’ she said to Rajasekhara, clutching her middle and groaning loudly. ‘The physician says that I can be cured only if I drink the milk of a tigress. But how can anyone procure this remedy? Who is so brave that he can milk the beast? I fear I will die soon, O king!’
‘I will get you your cure, Mother,’ said Manikanta. ‘I will confront any danger if it means that you will be saved. Allow me to go into the forest, Father. I vow not to return unless I bring home a tigress.’ The king was in tears, fearing for Manikanta’s safety, but the queen hid a smile. She cried out again as if she were in great pain to speed the boy on his way. She was sure that he would be killed by the tigress or other wild animals in the forest, thereby clearing the way for her son to become the king. Manikanta left the very next day for the forest, all alone. He had turned away the soldiers who had come with him, telling them that he could not allow them to risk their lives.
Inside the forest, the boy heard the furious bellowing of the demoness Mahishi who had taken the form of a massive she-buffalo. She had grievously wounded the devas before descending to earth to continue her ravages. Mahishi was armed wi
th a boon from Brahma that she could be killed only by a son born through the union of Shiva and Vishnu. Deeming this to be an impossibility, she had grown more brutal in her attacks. Vayu whispered in Manikanta’s ear, telling him that only he could kill her and save innocent people. The boy took this up as his sacred duty and engaged Mahishi in a furious battle. The devas, the sages and the Trimurti came down to watch what appeared to be an unequal fight. Shiva tethered his bull at a place that came to be known as Kaalaikatti—where kaalai means bull and katti means tying.
Mahishi was huge and merciless but Manikanta was swift and single-minded. He grabbed her by her horns, whirled her around and hurled her to the ground. She fell with a terrible crash and lay unmoving. The boy climbed onto her body and began a violent dance that rocked heaven and earth. The chest of the demoness caved in and she died with a final fierce bellow. The devas exulted and sang Manikanta’s praises, calling him Ayyappa—lord and father, for the role he had played in protecting them. Manikanta went on his way then, knowing that he had another duty to fulfil.
Jayanta, watching eagerly from above, saw Ayyappa emerge from the jungle, riding a tigress, with several tigers following him. He saw the people of Pandala running in fear when they saw the fierce beasts. The boy rode calmly up to the palace gates where his father hurried to receive him, delighted to see him safe but also fearful of his companions. A white-haired sage, who had followed Ayyappa from the forest, revealed to the king that the boy was no mortal, but Harihara Putra, born on earth as Ayyappa. The startled king sought forgiveness for his wife whose evil scheme he had just discovered. ‘Take the throne which is yours by right and bless our people with peace and prosperity,’ he said.
Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer Page 7