‘And when she washes the vessels?’ chuckled the child.
‘She purifies the world and recreates it, all bright and shiny!’ said Ganesha, laughing with him. ‘Look, here comes our uncle Vishnu on Garuda. Remember that he is the god who protects all life and greet him with reverence.’
‘So this is Garuda! I want to see him,’ the child shouted excitedly. ‘I have heard so many stories about him from Mother Suparni.’ Soon afterwards, his laughter could be heard echoing in the skies over Kailasa as he flew with Vishnu on the back of the mighty eagle.
Watching him proudly, Ganesha said to Parvati, ‘Mother, the child hardly knows his own strength. One day he piles up the mountains while the next day he snatches the moon from the skies. I have to coax him to restore everything to its natural place!’
The two brothers were inseparable, but the child grew jealous when he saw Ganesha being pampered by their mother, eating the modakas she made especially for him. Seeing the frown on his face, Shiva pulled Kartikeya on to his own lap. But the child still wanted his mother’s attention. Wishing to placate him, Shiva merged his body with Parvati’s, displaying his Ardhanarishwara form, half male and half female. Skanda was bemused by his parents’ joined bodies and faces and whispered to Ganesha, ‘Where did the other halves of their bodies disappear?’
‘From father’s half all the men on earth are made and from mother’s half all the women,’ said Ganesha while the parents smiled proudly at their sons.
The young one regarded their faces closely and said, ‘This eye is lined with kohl and the silken hair is adorned with pearls. This half of the neck is blue and the head is crowned by the moon. Hence this half is mother and the other half is father!’
The apsaras sang praises of the little one: ‘O Kartikeya! Dark monsoon clouds shed pearly tear drops, abashed by your glossy locks. The fish go into hiding among the pearls in the water, unable to compete with the beauty of your eyes. We women desire neither the pearls of the water nor the sky. All we seek is a kiss from your coral lips!’
The child danced away, unheeding, to discover what his father kept hidden in his hands. ‘Is it a fruit?’ he asked and pulled open Shiva’s hands that were clasped in worship. His meditation was broken but the fierce god merely smiled and gathered his son into his arms. The next instant, the child jumped down and rushed away towards a peacock sleeping with his head tucked beneath his wing. ‘Where is his head, Father?’ he asked, with tears falling from his eyes. Shiva clapped his hands and the peacock lifted his head, making the child laugh again. There was much merriment and laughter whenever Kartikeya was around. He even told the ganas, ‘Look how father has bitten mother’s lip and left a mark!’ Parvati blushed and tried to cover his mouth. But alas, she could not, for he had six mouths while she had just two hands.
Knowing that a divine purpose awaited his child, Shiva taught him to wield the trident and the sword. Vishnu lent him his luminous bow and mace that had won many wars against the asuras. He guided Kartikeya as he waged mock wars against Nandi and the ganas. Skanda appeared to have an inborn talent for weapons and warcraft and his skills grew every day.
‘Is he a child or a warrior? Here he charms us with his pranks while earlier he fought us and drove us away!’ said Indra to the devas.
‘Skanda’s powers surpass understanding,’ said the devaguru, Brihaspati. ‘Do not underestimate him at any time.’
But Indra was not ready to listen to his guru’s advice. He was impatient, eager to reclaim his lost power and reign in the heavens, and not remain a vassal of Surapadma. Was he not the chief of the devas, one who had performed a thousand sacrifices to Shiva? Yet, here he was, helpless before Mahendrapati. His pride could not stomach this prolonged humiliation. He summoned the other devas and said, ‘We must go to Kartikeya and impress upon him the need for war against the asura brothers.’
‘Should we ask him to be our king and lead us to victory?’ asked Surya, looking hesitantly at Indra’s face.
‘Why should I give up my throne?’ roared Indra. ‘Kartikeya does not have to be the king to lead the army. He can be a commander under me! Let us concern ourselves with how we are to get him away from the Devi. I saw him the other day, seated on her lap while she fed him kheer. She holds him close at all times and appears jealous even if he goes to play with Gajamukha or Shiva.’
‘You speak wisely, Indra,’ said Vayu. ‘Parvati will not allow us to take him away, that too to fight against the invincible asuras. She watches him with a thousand eyes, not wishing to lose the son she has found after a long quest. I even heard her tell Nandi that she would never risk losing him again. For a moment, she appeared as the fierce Durga, and her lion looked straight at me and roared!’
‘We should speak to him when he is alone,’ said Indra. ‘We must convince him to fight the asuras and redeem us from our endless suffering. His strength, born of Shiva’s fierce eye, is evident. But Parvati fears for his safety like a mortal mother. What do we do? How do we accomplish our task?’
They heard a loud rustle in the bushes behind them and turned with frightened eyes to see who had heard what they had said. Was it a fierce gana who would confront them over their words about the Devi, or Shiva whose love for his consort had been evident in many battles? Perhaps it was the Devi herself, whose curse had forced them to continue suffering under Sura’s demonic rule. What if she now decreed that they would have to wait another yuga before her son would kill their enemy, the Soul Stealer?
9
A Glorious Transformation
They heard the sound of the bushes being crushed by heavy feet. A curved trunk came into sight first. An elephant’s head emerged next, mounted on a boy’s body. Gajamukha stood watching them, his eyes gleaming. Was he angry? Would he tell his mother their plan? The devas hurried to pay obeisance to him, knowing that only he had the power to remove the obstacles in their path to liberation.
Ganesha nodded his head in response to their greeting and said, ‘I am afraid I could not help overhearing what you said, for I have such large ears! I can tell you, however, that your fears are misguided. My mother is not the one you must convince in order to take Kartikeya with you. For the Devi has already lost him!’
‘Lost him? How can that be? Where did he go? Who took him away?’ the devas chorused anxiously. Ganesha looked at their agitated faces and laughed aloud. He saw their eyes widen in shock and suppressed his mirth. ‘Do not be afraid,’ he said. ‘My brother has not left Kailasa, but you will not find the warrior you seek. The weapons you so generously conferred on him are perhaps languishing in a dark cave somewhere!’
‘Why? What has happened to him?’ Indra asked. ‘Are you mocking us, making fun of our peril?’
‘Please do not get angry,’ said Gajamukha. ‘I have been trying to understand my brother myself. Sometimes he is a lovable child, sometimes he is fierce. And sometimes he is beyond understanding. It appears that he does not know who he is himself. Perhaps it is your fault for you gave him so many names! You call him Skanda and Kartikeya, son of Ganga, Agni, Parvati and Shiva. How do you expect him to live up to all your expectations? You know that he put Brahma in prison and disrupted all creation. But do you know why?’
‘Tell us more. Help us, Ganesha!’ pleaded the devas.
By the god’s grace they now witnessed the confrontation that had taken place between the Pitamaha and the radiant child.
Brahma came to visit Shiva and Parvati and offered them worship. However, he ignored Kartikeya who rose to greet him. When the Creator left Shiva’s presence after a while, the child barred his way and asked him why he had ignored his salutation.
‘I am too busy to pay attention to small things,’ said the Creator, looking down his nose at the child. ‘Do you not know that I am the Creator, and the first among the trinity of gods?’
‘What are you busy with?’ persisted Kartikeya.
‘With my task of creation, based on principles drawn from the Vedas. The Vedas are in turn derived from
the sacred Pranava mantra—Om.’
‘Please explain the significance of Om to me, Pitamaha,’ said the child eagerly.
‘How can you understand such great thoughts when you are but a child? Let me go now for I have important work to do,’ said Brahma dismissively.
‘You cannot leave unless you explain the meaning to me,’ said Kartikeya, unwilling to be fobbed off in this rude manner.
The Pitamaha sighed and gave him a rudimentary explanation that did not satisfy his listener. ‘If you cannot even explain this, how can you be qualified to be the Creator?’ asked the boy. He told his ganas to cast Brahma in prison and took over the god’s duties with a child’s playfulness. He created sleek, tawny lions, peacocks with iridescent tails and colourful monal birds that had caught his fancy on the mountain of his birth. Soon earth was overrun with these creatures, causing great fear, for people considered this as a sign from the heavens that the world would soon be destroyed. Also, all the creatures he created were male and this led to fierce territorial wars. The devas panicked and rushed to Shiva, asking him to intercede with the child and free Brahma. Shiva requested Kartikeya accordingly and the boy allowed a chastened Brahma to return to his duties.
‘Why did you imprison Brahma, my son?’ asked Shiva. ‘Was he not right in considering that the mantra was too complex to be explained to a child?’
‘That is not true,’ replied his son. ‘Anything fundamental can always be explained in simple terms. If Brahma is unable to do so, it merely shows that he lacks true understanding.’
‘Explain it to me then,’ said Shiva playfully.
‘Only if you give me the respect due to a guru!’ the child shot back.
Shiva then placed him on his shoulder and listened solemnly as Kartikeya whispered in his ear. ‘Om encapsulates creation, preservation and transformation,’ the child said. ‘It is the mantra that helps all thinking beings cross the ocean of life and attain liberation. It is the source from which the universe is created once more after the final deluge.’
Shiva nodded in appreciation of Kartikeya’s wisdom. ‘My blessing to Sanatkumara that he would teach me the Vedas has come true,’ he said.
Parvati lauded her son, calling him Swaminatha, the guru to the supreme god himself.
Ganesha’s soft laugh brought the devas back to the present. ‘Please take us to Kumara. We must remind him of his warrior nature,’ said Indra. ‘He must not forget the purpose for which he was born.’ The king of the devas now resolved to offer Skanda his crown. It was the nature of Taraka’s boon that forced him to make this great sacrifice. Surely, the devas would laud him for it.
They came to the clearing where Shiva often sat under the banyan tree, speaking to the sages. Today, however, it was Kartikeya who was with the saptarishis, discussing the complexities of dharma, karma and the many paths leading to the Supreme. The devas looked at each other in surprise, wondering if the child had returned to his earlier form of Sanatkumara. But had not Shiva told them that Kumara had come to earth in order to destroy evil? Who could be more evil than Taraka and Surapadma?
Indra bowed to Shiva’s son and said, ‘We seek your help on a matter of grave importance.’ The boy accordingly took his leave of the sages and came towards them.
‘O six-faced one, you are our only refuge,’ said Surya, falling at his feet. Skanda lifted him up gently and looked into his face. ‘We entreat you to become our saviour, to unleash your vast power and prowess, great one. Be our champion and kill the formidable asuras who harass us severely.’
‘Become our king, noble one,’ said Indra, placing his crown at his feet.
Kartikeya smiled and placed the crown firmly on Indra’s head again. ‘Devaraja,’ he said, ‘I have no desire to be king or to get caught up in the trappings of power.’
‘Then be our senapati,’ said Indra quickly, before the others could say anything, hoping that his face would not reveal his relief. ‘Lead our army against the asuras and give us back our glory.’
Kartikeya’s brow furrowed in thought. Will he agree, or will the sage win over the warrior? wondered Indra. He pushed Agni forward, knowing that the boy revered him as a father.
Agni looked with love at the glowing child and said, ‘Skanda, Kumara, Kartikeya! Listen to my vision for your future. I see you on the battlefield, your divine sword unsheathed, with conches and war drums proclaiming the arrival of the Destroyer’s son. When you begin slaughtering our foes, Bhadrakali’s fierce attendants come running, their small eyes glinting, their cruel mouths open, eager to gorge on the dead. Bhootas and pretas snatch the crowns off the heads of once-powerful kings and play with them. You watch smiling, dauntless one, as gory headless bodies dance around you. The limitless expanse of the sky above you is choked with long-beaked vultures. And Yama comes to beg you to stop the killing, as naraka is overflowing with the dead. Beloved son, it is in your power to make my vision come true. Assume control of our sena, Kartikeya, and free us from the evil that shackles us.’
Shiva’s son looked with compassion upon their anxious faces and nodded his consent. Trumpets and drums sounded to proclaim the glorious news. Vishnu ordered the divine architect to fashion a glittering city for the young god. Soon, magnificent Skandagiri rose to the skies, radiant with gems, soaring towers and temples, gardens and stately homes. Skanda’s palace shone with the brilliance of a thousand suns.
Indra rejoiced that Prajapati’s boon had finally come true. He placed Skanda on his elephant, Airavata, for the triumphal march to Skandagiri. Vishnu adorned his head with a magnificent coronet. Agni and Vayu waved ceremonial fans over him. Contrary to what they had feared, Parvati too celebrated her son’s crowning as Deva Senapati. She appeared before them as Durga and blessed him with a luminous lance, imbued with her powers. She sent with him nine brilliant warriors, headed by the valiant Veerabahu. Like the crescent-wearing god, these warriors too wielded tridents and wore serpents as ornaments. Their hair was matted and each of them had ten arms, five faces and three eyes. From them emerged numberless soldiers, ready to carry out Skanda’s orders faithfully. Shiva made him the lord of the pishachas and the demons that cause disease and madness. Surya gave him Manovega, an aerial chariot that could fly at the speed of thought. Garuda gave him his son, Mayura, who was faster than the celestial horses. Lakshmi blessed him with a garland of victory made of kadamba flowers. Brihaspati performed the rituals to anoint him the leader of the army. Joy permeated the three realms as there was now hope of a new peace and freedom from fear.
The first devotee to seek the senapati’s help was an aged priest, who said, ‘I performed a sacred yagna for the well-being of the world, O Kartikeya, but the sacrificial goat ran away! I have been unable to find him, though I have looked everywhere. I fear that earth will suffer greatly if the yagna remains incomplete.’
‘Veerabahu! Find the goat and bring him to me,’ said Skanda. His commander followed the trail of destruction left by the asura who had taken the form of a huge goat with mottled fur. He traced the animal to Vaikunta where it was tearing up the earth with its sharp hooves, goring everyone with its wickedly curved horns. He seized it and brought it, snorting angrily, to the senapati. When Kartikeya saw the goat, he was immediately reminded of his friends in the jungle. Fearless as always, the boy climbed onto the goat’s back and traversed the universe, returning in an instant with a smile on his lips. The goat was now calm, gentled by his touch. Shiva’s son then told the priest, ‘Do not sacrifice animals when you perform a yagna, pious one! The scriptures never prescribe violence of any kind. This “aja” or goat is not what the gods seek; instead, offer another “aja”—rice. Your prayers will be answered without fail and without inflicting harm on other living creatures. This Aja will now roam at will, safe under my protection.’ The goat bleated his happiness on behalf of all animals and birds that would now escape a cruel fate.
The priest revealed himself to be Narada, who had played out this drama in order to teach the world the lesson of compassi
on. He was also able to demonstrate Skanda’s unequalled prowess to those who doubted him.
And then, one of Indra’s attendants came running in, bloodied and battered, to bring them an urgent message. ‘All is lost . . . Amaravati . . . your son, Jayanta . . . ’ The man gasped and fell down lifeless. Was Jayanta dead? Was this the price that Indra had to pay for his long absence from his people?
Unknown to them, the poisonous plant had spread in all directions on earth, destroying life on verdant lands that had earlier bloomed with rich crops and vegetables. It began to climb trees and shoot up into the sky. Its thorns were poisonous, its leaves sharp-edged. The monster grew stronger and more evil by the day.
‘What has happened? Is my son dead? Alas!’ moaned Indra as he mounted Airavata to return to Amaravati. The devas took leave of Shiva and his son to leave Kailasa, anxious to discover what had happened.
‘I will come with you and help you tackle whatever calamity faces you,’ said Kartikeya, mounting his chariot, Manovega. When they came to Indraloka, they were thunderstruck by the extent of devastation. The city was in ruin, its glorious walls fallen. The crystal pools were wrecked, flower beds lay trampled. The gardens were strewn with stalks and petals of blossoms once so bright. They came to Indra’s palace but the devas were afraid to enter, wondering if the enemy still lurked within. ‘Lead the way, great Indra,’ they said but their king was unwilling to risk confronting the enemy. ‘You should go first, Surya!’ he said, but the sun merely flamed higher into the sky, exhibiting his reluctance. Finally, Kartikeya came to their rescue by striding boldly into the once magnificent mansion, now in a shambles. His face grew grim and his hands clenched in fury when he saw the damage wrought by the invaders.
Rambha, queen of the apsaras, emerged from her hiding place and ran sobbing to Indra. ‘Noble Devendra! While you were away, Ajamukhi came to our city to kidnap your wife and take her to Surapadma’s harem,’ she said. ‘Indrani invoked Maha Shasta who destroyed the asura troops and cut off Ajamukhi’s arm when she refused to let your queen go. Shasta took Indrani to safety, while your son stayed behind to protect us. When he heard of his sister’s humiliation, Taraka and his hordes came here in rage, O king. Angered that neither you nor Indrani were present in the palace or the city, Taraka ordered his elephants to bring down the marble walls. Next, he razed the shrines of the Trimurti and killed your attendants. Jayanta fought bravely against the asura but could not bring him down. Though your son had asked us women to hide, we fought too, armed with bows and knives. Alas, the asuras laughed at us and trapped us in occult webs. I managed to escape and hide before they could spot me. Finally, Jayanta was disarmed and Taraka ordered his men to drag him in chains to his prison in Mayapuri. Alas, Devaraja, I regret having to bring you such terrible news! Rescue your son at once, Indra, for he and our men will suffer untold misery in Taraka’s custody. Free Indrani’s maids and the dancers from the lecherous hands of the asura hordes.’
Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer Page 10