Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer

by Usha Narayanan

  Kartikeya looked upon the jewelled columns that lay shattered on the ground, the paintings and canopies that were slashed by swords, and the altars to the gods that were destroyed. He saw the loyal guards lying on the bloodied floor, their limbs cut off, their hearts torn out—testifying to the brutal attack of the asuras. Then he looked at the faces of the devas tortured by shame and grief.

  ‘Taraka appears to have embarked on his journey to his end,’ said Shiva’s son. ‘It is time that I carried out my vow to wipe out his race. Let us set forth at once to kill the asura and his godless followers.’

  They returned to Kailasa to seek the blessings of Maheshwara and Parvati. Shiva blessed his son with eleven Rudras wearing garlands of serpents, who created terror with just their appearance. The devas blessed him with occult powers and expertise in warcraft. The ganas gathered, craggy as mountains, with heads of boars and elephants, wolves and crocodiles, elated that they could serve Shiva’s son. Magnificent warriors, tall and able-bodied, wearing armour or animal skins, with one head or many, adorned by gold chains or skull garlands, raised a loud clamour and brandished their weapons. Drawn from many lokas, they were diverse, but united in their allegiance to Skanda and his noble war.

  Vayu gave Kartikeya a banner bearing the emblem of a rooster, the symbol of fertility and life, whose voice drove away darkness. ‘May the valiant cockerel herald the dawn of wisdom and the conquest of the forces of ignorance,’ he said. ‘May his call awaken our souls, so that we may perform brave deeds and achieve huge victories.’ The army sought the grace of Ganesha, the Vighnaharta, and set off to confront Taraka in his capital cloaked with occult spells.

  The devas traced the asura’s path through lush green forests until they reached a barren, boulder-strewn hill that obstructed their way. Dark, strange-looking grass covered the slopes and their horses whinnied in alarm when their hooves slipped on the small stones underfoot. The army slowed down and the men dismounted so that they could advance cautiously. Skanda was uneasy, sensing that something was amiss. He signalled to his men to pull out their weapons. Then suddenly, the whole hill began to move. They felt a huge tremor and then another. Was it an earthquake? Was there a safe place for them to take shelter? The horses began to bolt in terror. The men struggled to stay upright.

  Kartikeya looked closely at the ground and realized the truth. They were not standing on a hill, but on a huge demon lying in wait for victims. The grass was the hair on the asura’s body, the stones were horny projections on his skin. The giant was now moving stealthily in a bid to encircle them and swallow them whole. How massive must he be that he could cover such a vast area! How tall would he be if he were to stand up?

  ‘Turn around and retreat!’ Kartikeya shouted. ‘Do not stop until you are back in the forest. Hurry!’

  He watched anxiously as his sena turned around to return the way they had come. But there were too many of them and they were too slow, weighed down by their armour and weapons. Would they be in time to escape danger? Or would they crumble before this mysterious obstacle?

  10

  The Dark Tide

  Kartikeya watched anxiously from his aerial chariot, worried for his men as they seemed confused by his sudden order to retreat. Would they make it to safety before the demon realized that they were escaping?

  A bellow of rage erupted from the mock mountain. ‘Who dares step on Krauncha, Taraka’s mighty lieutenant?’ roared the asura. ‘You will all die for this insolence!’

  ‘Krauncha!’ exclaimed Vayu, who was acting as Skanda’s charioteer. ‘This asura has devoured numberless rishis who climbed up to his quiet caves in order to perform tapasya. However, once they entered his domain, Krauncha crushed them in his mountainous arms, roaring with delight at his own cleverness. But once, when he tried this trick on Agastya, the sage saw through his plan. “Stay here as a mountain until you are redeemed by a valiant warrior!” he cursed him!’

  Alas, even as they watched, the hill undulated in waves and the soldiers disappeared, screaming, into its centre. The hill closed quickly over them and they could not be seen or heard any more. ‘Hurry, Kartikeya!’ Vayu cried out in panic. ‘You must rescue them before they are pulverized!’

  Kartikeya used his twelve arms to rain arrows on the asura. His sharp sword sliced off the mountain peak while clubs and maces splintered his hard body. Then he sent forth Shakti’s lance, imbued with Parvati’s potent energy. The lance blazed through the air at the speed of light and pierced the hill, creating a narrow tunnel through it. The trapped men and beasts came rushing out to safety. The asura, fatally wounded, emerged in his natural form and prostrated himself before Shiva’s son. ‘You have redeemed me from my curse, wielder of the lance!’ he said. ‘Reside here on my peak and bless devotees with true knowledge!’

  So it came to be. A temple to Kumara was built there, the first of many, where devotees worshipped him along with Ganesha and Parvati. The sages who had been killed there came to life as eagles and flamingoes, and flew around the young god in worship. ‘We thank you for liberating us, Kartikeya,’ they said, ‘and for creating a path for us to reach the sacred Manasarovar Lake.’ Wild deer, elephants and leopards that had been living on the mountain slopes earlier also returned to life, to roam free on the slopes.

  Kartikeya watched the animals gambol on the mountain and smiled, recalling his days of innocent joy with the birds and the beasts. He remembered Ulluck, the garudi and her young ones, and the elephant that had proved to be his brother. But he had no time now to frolic with these creatures. He had a task to fulfil and a mission to complete.

  The devas followed him on his journey towards Mayapuri. Indra was on Airavata, Agni on a ram, Kubera on his serpents and the other gods on fabulous beasts and chariots. Fierce spirits that dwelt in desolate caves and cremation grounds came with Kartikeya, extolling him as Bhayanashana, the destroyer of fear. Yama came, accompanied by his retinue of disease, decay, pain and sorrow. Varuna followed him with huge aquatic beasts that appeared more frightful when seen out of their normal habitat. Crocodiles, whales and sharks flew magically through the sky, ready to mangle their foes. The horses drawing the chariots hissed like snakes, opening their mouths wide as if to devour the skies. Shiva, the trident-bearer, came on a chariot of gold drawn by lions, carrying his Pinaka bow. His attendants, the Brahma Rakshasas, followed him like blazing volcanoes. Hari came behind them all on Garuda, guarding the entire army with his splendid entourage.

  Brahma, who had blessed Taraka with many boons, sent his son Narada in a final attempt to redeem the asura from the ruin he faced. ‘Greetings, mighty Taraka!’ said the celestial bard. ‘I have come to warn you that your end is near. Shiva’s son, who is so powerful that he pierced a hole through Krauncha, is approaching with an army of incomparable power. Relinquish control over the three realms and return to the pious path. Or you will perish.’

  ‘Are you saying that a newborn has the power to destroy me?’ scoffed Taraka. ‘Tell foolish Indra that it is he who courts disaster. I will defeat him easily as I have done so many times before. He will flee before long, with this infant, hiding his face in shame.’

  ‘Vinaasha Kaale Vipareeta Buddhi. When a person’s doom approaches, his intellect is compromised and works against him!’ murmured Narada. He bowed to the asura and left his court, realizing that Taraka was adamant in his path. Once the devarishi had left, however, Taraka abandoned his bravado and began to wonder if there was any truth in what he had said. His people were terrified by the showers of blood that polluted the streets. The lotus faces of his queens, princesses captured from once proud kingdoms, grew pale in fear. He himself experienced dark delusions; his mouth remained dry, despite the fragrant wines that he quaffed. Writhing snakes crept into his palace despite the vigil of his guards. What ploy had devious Devendra devised this time to take back his rule? Who had he allied with that he was so confident of victory? The asura climbed to the ramparts and looked for the foe’s army. In the distance, he could see
a cloud of dust that signalled the coming of a vast army. He took an invisible form in order to hover over the forces and discover their strength. He heard the tinkling bells of the chariots and the thundering music to which the soldiers marched. He saw the sea of banners, the warriors wearing brilliant garlands of celestial flowers, and the glinting weapons they carried. Then he came upon the bards singing praises to Kartikeya. ‘O, magnificent Kumara!’ they sang. ‘You are pleasing like the moon, fierce like the fire. The devas bow to you, placing their coronets at your feet. Dauntless son of Shiva, redeemer of the realms, dispeller of grief! May victory be yours, O Skanda, Kartikeya!’

  Hiding his fear, Taraka returned to his court to order his general Kalanemi to make the final preparations for war. The commander had already brought together multitudes of asuras from the mountains, the netherworld and all the regions over which Taraka ruled. Drunk on power and great quantities of liquor, the warriors roared, ‘Kill, kill, kill!’ and brandished their weapons at the skies. Their numbers grew by the day, like the ocean swelling under the influence of the moon. The very air seemed on fire. Sukra, the asura guru, blessed Taraka and his hordes with strength and stealth to acquire victory.

  Soon the deva sena reached the boundaries of Mayapuri that glittered like a lightning bolt, with its bejewelled towers soaring upwards to the skies. Taraka, with Kalanemi by his side, roared out from his fortress gates to confront them. ‘Indra! Have you forgotten that I defeated you and dragged you through our streets in chains?’ he shouted. ‘Our children called you a coward and a slave, as they ran behind you and the captive devas. It was only because Brahma pleaded for your freedom that I finally let you go. But here you gather again, like ants before a maddened elephant, to be crushed underfoot! Do not risk ruin, Indra. Flee now or face dishonour and worse!’

  His asuras emerged like spitting cobras from their rocky citadel, confident that victory was theirs. They laughed at the ganas with their distorted forms, convinced that they themselves were the most splendid of creations. ‘Victory to Tarakasura, emperor of the realms!’ they proclaimed.

  The devas countered by shouting, ‘Victory to Indra! And to Skanda, wielder of the fiery lance!’ They blew their war conches while their drums thundered on their own, even without being struck.

  ‘Behold, herds of wild elephants rampage against golden lions!’ said the sages gazing down upon the battlefield. The armies came together roaring, intent on devouring their foes. Kalanemi let loose his army of mountainous warriors whose death cries split the firmament. A multitude of spears, arrows and battle axes hurtled forth, darkening the skies. Taraka used his occult powers to unleash crocodiles, snakes, sharks, tusked boars and deadly scorpions that terrorized the deva sena. Indra and Yama countered with thunderbolts and axes that shattered the asura regiment like rocks smashing crystal. Earth shuddered as it was ripped open by hooves and weapons, and desecrated by shattered heads and limbs. Vultures fought for space in the sky amidst the arrows and spears, eager to feast on the warm bodies of the fallen. Yama saw hosts of panic-stricken spirits rising from the battlefield to be herded away by his attendants.

  Vishnu flew towards Kalanemi on valiant Garuda. The eagle’s body still bore the mark of the vajra hurled by Indra for stealing the gods’ nectar to free his mother. His wings were spread wide like clouds spanned by rainbows, glinting with the light of the gems on the hoods of snakes he held in his mouth. Hari showered the asura with white-hot arrows but they were dispelled by Kalanemi’s axe and club. The blue-hued god then used his radiant mace to smash Kalanemi’s chariot and horses.

  ‘I do not need a chariot or bird to fly the skies!’ roared the asura, his face twisting in wrath. Great fires erupted from his mouth as he enlarged his body and rained down clubs and boulders on his foes. Thousand-eyed Indra faltered and retreated from the battleground. Varuna’s noose was torn from his hands, and he looked bereft, like an ocean without water. Kalanemi subdued Yama and drove Kubera and his yakshas away with his fury. He swallowed Agni, knowing that the devas would be helpless without him. The other Dikpalas, guardians of the directions, fled in terror.

  ‘I will destroy Vishnu!’ raged Kalanemi. ‘The dark god has always been our enemy and the destroyer of our ancestors.’

  Vishnu enlarged himself and Garuda in order to counter the giant foe. His chakra, Sudarshana, flew from his hand, its powers heightened by the fury of the sages, to scorch the very marrow of the demons. His numberless arms reached out to crush the necks of countless enemies. The Sudarshana cut down the asura’s arms but he had so many that he continued his furious onslaught. Kalanemi opened his mouth wide and sucked in all the enemy warriors before him. He then plucked Vishnu and Garuda from the sky and thrust them into his mouth. The devas cried out in shock. ‘Alas, is our Hari lost to us?’ cried out the sages. The creatures on earth swooned, afflicted with horrific visions. The seven mountains and seas quaked, realizing that their Protector was no longer in their midst. Kalanemi danced in triumph, proclaiming that the asuras had won.

  And then they heard a terrible scream that pierced their souls. Kalanemi towered over them still, but they could see a scarlet fountain erupting from his middle. His body appeared to explode before their eyes. They watched in horror as a grisly hand emerged from within him. They saw the chakra spinning in the hand, flashing flames that were blue and red. ‘Jaya Jaya Sri Sudarshana!’ they sang out. Vishnu tore through the asura’s body on Garuda, chakra in hand, shining like the crimson sun with the blood that cloaked him. Garuda buffeted the giant’s body with his wings and chest. Kalanemi fell to the ground with a crash. The devas shouted in triumph. And the sages extolled the god who appeared on earth to vanquish evil in every yuga:

  ‘O Vishnu, you are fish, tortoise, boar, king and cowherd. You are the Supreme One, yet you are a million million!’

  Broken in spirit by the death of his beloved general, Taraka withdrew into his stronghold as night fell. The devas rejoiced at their victory but wary Indra sounded a note of warning: ‘Taraka is invincible and we are yet to see how our young leader fares against him.’

  Vishnu nodded and said, ‘Kartikeya, I am here to help you whenever and wherever you need me. I was able to kill his general Kalanemi, but Taraka’s boons render my powers futile. He reigns like death at the end of the world and no one can stop him. No one except you—for that is the boon he sought from Brahma. Even you will have just one opportunity to destroy him, when the stars are aligned favourably. If you fail to kill him by sunset tomorrow, he will reign unchecked for many more yugas. He will burn up the universe and all its creatures for defying him. Our plight will be much worse than it is at present. We devas will play our part in wearing Taraka down with our attack. But the final blow can only be struck by you. Remember that you cannot falter even once during the battle. For then, all will be lost.’

  Kartikeya nodded, his face sombre, feeling the weight of the responsibility weighing him down. He had fought the devas on Svetagiri, no doubt, and defeated them. But Taraka was a much fiercer foe, and he had but one chance to kill him.

  The sun rose silently in the east, as if afraid of what would happen that day. Taraka flew at Indra, his greatest enemy, and attacked him with a spiked mace. Indra dodged the weapon and hurled his vajra at the asura. But Taraka caught it before it could touch him and tossed it aside with contempt. Yama imbued his staff with all his powers and sent it flying at the asura but it crumbled to pieces when it touched his body. Taraka jeered at them and knocked them off their mounts with his weapons. Yama fled but Airavata came flying to Indra’s rescue. The deva king unleashed the Narasimha astra from which erupted thousands of dark lions that attacked the asura army and sent them fleeing from the field. But the asura killed the lions with his occult weapons and brought down Indra as well. The devas fled to safety with their unconscious king.

  Veerabhadra, Shiva’s general, flew towards the asura in rage. Their furious roars and the clang of mighty weapons stupefied the soldiers on either side. ‘I will kill
you, Taraka!’ shouted Veerabhadra, flaying him with arrows, javelins and maces. Encouraged by his frenzied attack, the ganas roared as they flattened the enemy sena. Taraka bared his teeth in rage and assumed a fierce form with a thousand hands wielding weapons. He advanced towards Veerabhadra to kill him but Shiva’s warrior magnified his own form in response. However, so many weapons assailed him that he swooned under the attack. His charioteer carried him swiftly from the field. The asuras celebrated his retreat with hoots of victory and fell upon the ganas with bloodthirsty cries. Taraka vented his anger by unleashing all his sorcery. His enemies were now attacked by their own weapons—the Rudras by their tridents, the Brahma Rakshasas by their clubs and the yakshas by their staffs. The serpents that fought under Kubera began to attack one another, locked into a fight till death.