8
Sage or Child?
Taraka’s kingdom in the north was afflicted by terrible omens. The people grew terrified as enormous snakes, black as soot, appeared from nowhere, spitting poison into the air. They slithered around fearlessly in the daylight, as if celebrating their imminent release from the demon who used them for his dark rites. They terrorized the war elephants, making them stampede through the city. They struck sleeping soldiers with their venomous fangs, making them afraid to close their eyes.
As panic spread through the land, Taraka’s oldest minister came to him, trembling, and said, ‘The sun has grown dim, O king, ringed by a tawny halo. Ghostly jackals howl, clamouring to feed on asura blood. Bones, pieces of flesh and burning coals fall from the skies. Our spies inform us that new hope has risen in devaloka. The gods exult that their saviour has been born and that he is unparalleled in power. They say that victory will soon be theirs, for he is Shiva’s son, but not born from Parvati’s womb. Perhaps it would be wise to . . . ’ His voice tapered off as the king glared at him.
Taraka’s eyebrows knitted in thought. Was it possible that this child was the one born to kill him? Protected by Brahma’s boons, he had vanquished mighty devas and kings. But the scriptures warned that no one could conquer fate or time. Did it mean that he would have to sue for peace and save his life? ‘No!’ he roared. ‘Mighty Taraka can never humble himself before anyone, least of all a calf. How can anyone defeat me? For even thinking that this was possible, you will be cast into prison, to languish there until you die! Your fate will warn others not to come to me bleating like lambs at the slaughterhouse. Never doubt that Taraka is invincible and that neither Shiva nor his son can kill him!’
That night, however, Taraka was afflicted by vile dreams. Frenzied voices gibbered at him, predicting a violent death. He woke up with a roar and reached for his sword. ‘O you foolish spirits!’ he shouted. ‘Stop prowling in the skies and creeping into my palace! Death comes not for me but for you. I will kill you first and then that mewling son of Shiva!’ His favourite queen looked fearfully at him and wiped the sweat that streamed down his face.
Svetagiri was silent, as the devas waited to hear why Skanda’s birth had been shrouded in so much mystery. Why had Shiva allowed his fire to be carried away by Agni and Svaha?
‘Do you not remember the boon you gave me, Sanatkumara?’ Shiva asked Kartikeya, who looked confused. Why did he call him by this new name?
‘Sanatkumara?’ whispered the devas. ‘Is he one of Brahma’s four mind-born sons? But how can that be?’
Parvati’s face showed surprise and then a dawning realization. The ground seemed to shift under her feet and finally attain equilibrium. Her mind cleared, freeing her from the illusions that had made her a mortal mother, mourning the loss of her son. Now she was again the calm and gracious Jaganmata, the mother of the universe.
By Shiva’s grace, the gods gathered there witnessed the events of a previous age when Sanatkumara had been immersed in tapasya. One day when Brahma came to visit him, Sanatkumara told him of a dream that had disturbed his dhyana. ‘Noble father!’ he said. ‘I saw myself leading the devas in a terrible war against the asuras and finally defeating them. How is it possible that an ascetic like me could indulge in such violence?’
‘In an earlier life, you were enraged by the wickedness of the asuras and vowed to destroy them, Kumara,’ his father replied. ‘You must therefore take another form in order to fulfil your oath. How and when you will do this is left to you.’
Soon after, Shiva and Parvati entered Sanatkumara’s ashram, attracted by the luminous aura that surrounded the place. They looked fondly at the noble soul immersed in dhyana. ‘He is so young!’ exclaimed Parvati.
‘He appears eternally young because of his tapasya,’ said Shiva. ‘However, he is an enlightened sage who initiated Narada into Brahma Vidya—knowledge of the Absolute. Now watch the drama that unfolds!’
Shiva began to rant at the sage, accusing him of ignoring the mighty Mahadeva and his consort. Brahma’s son emerged from his dhyana on hearing his loud voice, but remained unruffled, like the sky that remains unaffected by a hurricane. He rose to his feet and joined his hands in worship. ‘I meant no disrespect, Shiva. I was immersed in prayer, far removed from fear or delight, unaffected by the influences of this world. I am neither perturbed by curses nor overwhelmed by boons, so do with me what you will.’
Shiva smiled at his equanimity. ‘I applaud your unremitting focus on the Absolute, Sanatkumara,’ he said. ‘Your attainments at such a young age are truly admirable. Allow me to grant you a boon in appreciation. Tell me what you seek, pious one!’
The sage laughed and said, ‘I have already said that I do not require a boon. However, I will grant you one if you ask me!’
Mahadeva was as pleased as any earthly father proudly watching his son’s antics. ‘Then grant me the boon that you will be born as my son,’ he said.
‘So be it,’ said Kumara. ‘But I will be your son alone, because the Devi has not sought a boon from me!’
Hearing this, Parvati protested, ‘I am half of Shiva and share equally in his good and bad fortune. So pray, do not deprive me of the bliss of having you as my son!’
Kumara looked at her thoughtfully and said, ‘Devi, you know that words once spoken cannot be taken back. Moreover, I do not wish to be born from a womb, as that will make me forget my previous life and my resolve to fight evil. However, I promise to venerate you as my mother, even though I will not take birth from your body.’
The spellbound devas then saw Shiva sitting under a banyan tree as Lord Dakshinamurti, imparting knowledge of the scriptures to Sanatkumara. The disciple so delighted Mahadeva that he declared that Kumara would teach Shiva what he had learnt when he was born later as his son.
‘Now you can understand why all this happened!’ said Vishnu. ‘This was part of Shiva’s leela to unveil Kumara’s past as well as his glorious future. If you had not already faced the boy’s prowess, you would have doubted his ability to defeat an asura whom none of you could vanquish. Mahadeva obscured all your minds with maya so that you failed to perceive that the child you fought was the one born to redeem you. Remember that Taraka sought a boon that he should only be killed by Shiva’s son—one who was not born through his wife. Shiva ensured this by emitting his life force as an orb of light. Worship the great god, O devas, and celebrate the birth of your saviour!’
Kumara was now calm, his questions answered. Shiva looked into his heart and understood the grief that still troubled him. The lord of time and death raised his arm in blessing. A radiant light enveloped all the creatures that lay dead or dying and they all rose, more glorious than before. A smile broke out on Kumara’s face as his friends chattered, roared and trumpeted. He took up four forms again and approached his many parents. He saluted Shiva as Skanda, Parvati as Visakha, Agni and Svaha as Sakha and Ganga as Naigamesa.
‘Henceforth, all of you will be venerated as his parents,’ said Vishnu. ‘Some will call him the son of Agni, some of the Krittikas, some of Rudra and some of Ganga. The mysterious Guha combines many gods in himself and transcends understanding.’
Parvati clasped the young boy in her arms, overcome with joy. Ganesha came to them and enclosed both of them in the circle of his trunk. His mother scolded him softly for having left her to wander the realms looking for them, when he could have well taken her with him. ‘But he was in great danger, Mother, and I had to leave at once,’ he replied.
Shiva smiled at Kartikeya, calling him Parvatinandana and Shivakumara. He praised him as Subrahmanya—the brilliance of the cosmic spirit. The sages from the south named him Muruga, the beautiful one, and glorified him as the god of compassion.
‘I realize that I must keep my promise and come with you,’ Kartikeya said to Shiva and Parvati. He gazed sadly at the anxious people and creatures waiting patiently, sensing that their six-faced son would be leaving them soon. What hope did they have when the great go
ds had descended on earth to claim him? ‘But what about all these souls who love me so deeply? I realize that they cannot carry their earthly bodies to the higher lokas. But I can hardly bear the thought of leaving them behind after all the affection they have shown me.’
‘You will never leave them, Kartikeya,’ said Shiva. ‘They will dwell in your heart as you will in theirs. Perhaps you will meet them again in the fullness of time. Remember that you have a mission to fulfil, one that will benefit everyone gathered here and the universe at large.’
‘I must go with them now but my heart will always be yours,’ he said to the earthly throng, putting an arm around Ulluck who began to chatter in dismay. ‘I will forever remain a bridge between this world and that of the gods, between those who live on earth and heaven. I must redeem my earlier promise to destroy evil, and I seek your help to make it a success.’ He looked at the mountain dwellers, the sages and their wives, and said, ‘Continue your duties and your austerities, wise ones. Remain dauntless and look at every hurdle as a challenge. Question the gods too if need be. And know that we will be together forever.’
A loud sob drew him to the Krittikas who embraced him and refused to let go. ‘Do you think I will forget you?’ he asked. ‘How can I when it was the six of you along with Suparni who were my mothers for so long? The world will forever address me as Kartikeya, son of the Krittikas.’
‘You should acknowledge all they have done by granting them what they desire, Kartikeya,’ said Shiva. ‘As my son, you have the power to bestow boons on them, to make their wishes come true.’
Kartikeya turned to them and said, ‘Ask for a boon, my mothers, so that I may honour your love.’
‘Bless us to become stars in heaven so that we may always look upon you. And if fortune favours us, perhaps we will be able to help you in some little way in your fight to vanquish evil.’
‘So be it!’ said Kartikeya. ‘May the six of you become brilliant stars reigning in the skies, invested with the power to grant fame and glory. Look down forever upon your son and guide his steps, noble mothers.’ In that instant, the Krittikas vanished from earth to become a sparkling necklace in the skies, gazing on earth with a benevolent gaze.
‘Ask me a boon, beloved Suparni, for that is how I will always remember you,’ he said to Svaha. ‘I owe you so much!’
Svaha said to him, ‘Allow me and my young ones to always serve you, Skanda. As for my boon, Agni, the majestic one, is loved by many women. Let me be his favoured consort, forever by his side. Grant me his perpetual love, O divine Kumara!’
‘Tathastu!’ said Skanda. ‘Henceforth, priests will chant “Svaha” each time they feed Agni in the sacrificial fire. Their mantras will be fruitful only when they utter your name. And only through you will Agni derive his power to carry their offerings to the heavens to become food for the devas.’ She bowed her head to her adored child, tears spilling from her eyes.
‘As for you Agni,’ said Skanda, ‘henceforth you will receive a share of the offerings you carry to the gods. And you will be blessed with many sons, though I will always remain your firstborn!’
The animals and birds shed tears as they did not want to be separated from the compassionate one. ‘When will we see you again?’ they asked him, resting their heads on his shoulders or touching him fondly with forelimbs and wings. The little girl brought him a garland of red glory lilies. ‘Hereafter, these will be my favourite flowers,’ he said and kissed her forehead. Ulluck brought him apricots in memory of the day they had first met. ‘In case you are hungry and the food they give you is not to your liking,’ he whispered, making Shiva smile.
‘See how they love him—more than any other god!’ murmured a proud Devi to Shiva. She then took Kartikeya on a celestial chariot to Kailasa, flanked by the exultant devas and the heavenly throng. The path to Parvati’s mansion—fringed by gently waving banana trees—glowed with rubies and sapphires. Apsaras danced before the chariot while kinnaras played divine music. Parvati welcomed her son home by waving golden lamps before him and adorning his forehead with vermilion. She placed him on her lap and waited impatiently as all the sages and the devis came to admire her wondrous child. Shiva conjured up a crystal throne for him and Vishnu adorned him with a dazzling crown. The gods brought him powerful weapons, to remind him that he had to end the torturous rule of the asuras. Agni gave him a fiery spear and Indra a vajra. Yama blessed him with a mystic staff, and Soma brought him the nectar of the gods. Celestial musicians sang songs lauding his valour that would free the world of evil.
Eager to have him to herself, Parvati soon carried him away to her garden and fed him all the delicacies that she could conjure up. Shiva followed quickly, his ascetic heart now overflowing with love for his radiant child. Kartikeya laughed merrily, delighting in their attention. He could finally allow himself to behave like the child he was, forgetting the travails he had experienced since his birth. This would also soothe his mother’s heart, for she regretted the days he had spent away from her. The divine child gazed wide-eyed at Vasuki, thrust a small hand into the serpent king’s mouth and began to count his fangs. ‘One, five, three, ten,’ he said, making Parvati laugh. He tried to pluck out the crescent moon on his father’s head, thinking that its gleam was that of a lotus bud. The moon skidded away towards the sky and the child turned his attention to his father’s third eye, trying to pry it open. Shiva laughingly pulled his hand away and clasped him to his chest. Parvati smiled, happy that her husband, who had protested so fiercely at the thought of a child, was so happy with their little one. Kartikeya was now rolling on Shiva’s body, smearing himself with the ashes the god wore. Then he clambered onto his father’s shoulder and dove into the waters of the Ganga flowing from Shiva’s jata. Then, his teeth chattering with the cold, he warmed his hands by holding them up against the fiery third eye.
‘Come with me. Help me string a garland for your father,’ laughed Parvati, carrying him away, unwilling to let him stray from her for even a short time.
‘Are those my friends from the mountain?’ asked the child, running to what he thought was a flock of geese. But they were the skulls his father wore, for Shiva was the god of the burning ghats. Kartikeya’s face grew sad for a moment as he remembered Ulluck and the young ones of Suparni. But then he saw Ganesha dancing to the lilting tunes Shiva played on his veena while Nandi played the drum and hurried to join them. Parvati fastened anklets around his feet so she could hear their music as he danced and also know where he was at all times. ‘I wish the deer and the peacock could watch me dance!’ said Kartikeya. ‘They must miss me as much as I miss them.’
However, seeing the many wonders of Kailasa and the strange-looking ganas, the boy was soon diverted from his gloom. A splendid visitor arrived to enthral them all. First they heard the celestial drums and then the sound of conches. Then came his retinue of spirits and goblins, with bizarre shapes and forms, bearing bright banners and flags. Finally Shasta appeared on a huge white steed with a flowing mane, looking like a cloud horse scudding across the skies, jumping over the stars and cutting through the mist. The great son of Shiva and Vishnu was clad in blue silk, symbolizing the seas that formed his garments. The sun, the moon and Agni were his three eyes. In his ten arms he bore the conch, chakra, bow, arrow and other glinting weapons. The radiant planets circled his head like a glorious crown.
‘Harihara Putra, Bhootanatha!’ the devas cried out in adoration. Shasta appeared to them in eight beautiful forms signifying his mastery over the eight directions. Then he merged them into one glowing form and signalled his fearsome attendants to leave him. He raised a hand in blessing as he descended in the midst of the devas. He hastened to Shiva and Parvati to pay obeisance. The ganas came running to welcome their beloved Shasta. The four Vedas came to worship him in the form of a huge elephant with four tusks. When they had all left, Ganesha came to embrace him, followed by little Kartikeya, who gazed wide-eyed at another of his brothers. A beaming smile lit up Shasta’s face as he look
ed at the child. Soon Kartikeya was climbing onto his shoulder, chattering in his ear, telling him about his adventures.
The coral tree murmured its joy to the Kalpavriksha, the wish-giving tree. The parijata shed its starry blossoms on the three sons of Shiva. The peepal and banyan trees whispered that the earth would soon be healed and that dharma would flourish again. The brothers spent the whole night together, talking. Their mother watched them fondly from the shadows: her three sons, each born in a magical way. They were the guardians of Prakriti, her shakti that streamed through the universe.
When morning came, Shasta had to leave for his abode where many duties awaited him. ‘I will come back soon, brother,’ he said to Kartikeya who clung to him as he prepared to depart.
The sun rose golden over Kailasa and the earth. People worshipped Surya, the giver of life, by lighting earthen lamps and incense sticks, and making offerings of fresh flowers. The birds raised their voices in glorious song that echoed over rivers, craggy cliffs and velvet fields. Time appeared to stand still, like it was part of an ethereal dream.
Ganas and devas assembled every day to watch Skanda’s antics. Gajamukha, the elephant-headed god, walked proudly by his brother’s side, answering the numerous questions the little one asked him. ‘The sages worship our mother as the goddess of the universe,’ Kartikeya said one day. ‘Then why does she tend to our house and our food?’
‘She does so out of love, for us and for the universe,’ Ganesha replied. ‘When she designs our home, with the mountains for walls and the skies as roof, she is creating a world for all living beings. Our mountain serves as the centre, anchoring the cosmic axis around which the earth rotates.’
Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer Page 9