‘Vanquisher of demons!’ the gods hailed him.
‘Flame of righteousness!’ worshipped the sages.
The apsaras, gandharvis and yakshis, and even the wives of the devas had another name for Kartikeya. They called him ‘stealer of hearts’, for the child had rapidly grown into a majestic young lad. ‘He is so handsome, so exuberant,’ sighed an apsara, blushing as she brought him a garland of wild flowers. ‘Wherever he goes, there is joy, singing and the music of flutes and veenas.’ Another murmured his names in ecstasy. ‘Skanda, Shanmukha, Subrahmanya,’ she whispered. ‘His form is even more beautiful than Kama’s. And with him comes a gentle breeze, bearing the fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine, and the chirping of parrots and lovebirds.’
A wizened old sage observed that Kartikeya was just as irresistible as Krishna was with his gopis. ‘Look how he dances on the mountain slopes, with Ganesha playing the drum. And like the cowherd god, he too is always surrounded by adoring animals.’ The other ascetics nodded in agreement.
But some of the devas began to feel threatened by the boy’s glorious form and charm. Their lustre seemed to dim in Skanda’s presence. Who would look at them when they could look at Kartikeya instead? What if their wives decided to leave their homes and follow Parvati’s young son? They gradually picked up courage to speak to his mother in indirect terms about their worries. ‘Why do you blame him when it is your wives who cluster around him, using all their wiles to attract his attention?’ she retorted, her eyes flashing. But then, their words stayed on her mind and she began to ponder too, wondering if her son was to be blamed. Why was he spending so much time with others when he could stay by her side?
Soon, Parvati began to follow him, overseeing his activities. She even warned him that he was so charming that women might misconstrue his friendliness for love. Whenever he was surrounded by beautiful women, she appeared in their midst, stern and disapproving. At once the women retreated, for no one wished to incur Durga’s wrath.
Kartikeya grew angry and accused his mother of not trusting him. ‘Henceforth I will shun all women and become a fierce ascetic like father was before he fell prey to Kama’s arrow,’ he said. ‘If any woman should enter my sacred grove, I will turn her into a creeper! I hope you feel satisfied now, Mother!’
However, this was not what Parvati wanted. She knew how difficult it had been to transform the yogic Shiva into a husband and father. She did not want her son to lead an arid life like he had done earlier as Sanatkumara. It would be better if she found him a girl to marry—someone of her choice. And she knew just the right bride for him.
Her eyes gazed into the past. She saw her brother Vishnu in Vaikunta watching Skanda fight the gods on Svetagiri. ‘Six faces and twelve powerful arms!’ exclaimed Hari. ‘What valour the boy exhibits even when confronted by devas riding magical chariots and beasts! That too when his weapons are crude and his army consists of animals . . . Parvati is indeed fortunate, for she will soon be united with the radiant child she has been seeking for so long!’ Tears fell from his eyes and were transformed into two beautiful daughters. He named them Amritavalli and Sundaravalli and was happy when the girls, born out of his rapture on seeing Kartikeya, embarked on penances, seeking to marry Shiva’s son.
‘Your prayers will bear fruit at the appropriate time, my daughters,’ Vishnu blessed them.
Amritavalli was born as a little girl whom Vishnu entrusted to Indra. As he was often away performing his duties, Indra asked Airavata to take care of the child whom he named Devasena. She also became known as Devayanai, the one nurtured by the celestial elephant. Parvati had seen this child grow up, devout and demure, and decided that she would be a fitting bride for her precious Skanda.
Who could resist the Devi’s plan, especially when it concerned the well-being of her son? Indra was impelled to visit Kailasa with the lovely Devasena. He found Parvati and her son seated on a crystal pavilion beside the sacred Manasarovar Lake. The visitors offered greetings to Parvati and her son. Kartikeya rose swiftly to his feet, his eyes ensnared by the girl’s beauty. He moved slightly so that he could have an unhindered view of her ethereal form. Her skin was pure like dew; her hair fell in soft curls to her slender waist. He heard Indra call her Devasena and repeated the name to himself, caught in the rapture of love. She sensed his intense stare and looked up at him. Her eyes are like emeralds, he thought in wonder. They are more luminous than the waters of the mountain pools. A delicate pink coloured her cheeks and her long lashes swept down in confusion. A shy smile trembled on her coral lips.
How wonderful it would be if Devasena and I could be alone here when the lake gleams under a silver moon! The thought rose unbidden in Skanda’s mind before he forced himself to listen to what Indra was saying. Both Parvati and Devendra had seen the ardour that flashed in the eyes of the young pair. Parvati’s face lit up with joy that her plan had succeeded so easily. Indra struggled not to show his delight at the prospect of his daughter marrying Shiva’s son. No asura or god would dare oppose Indra if Kartikeya became part of his family. ‘Devasena wishes to marry someone who is handsome and brave,’ he said, watching Skanda’s face as he spoke. ‘Someone who is revered by the gods and feared by the asuras and rakshasas. Further, she wants him to be noble, pious and capable of ruling the three realms! But I doubt that such an amalgam of warrior and saint can even exist!’
‘You are wise, Indra, in coming here to seek my help and Skanda’s in finding this ideal soul,’ smiled the Devi. ‘I will look for the right groom among the gods while my son will seek him among youngsters like himself!’
Kartikeya looked worriedly at them, wishing to put himself forward. ‘I am here!’ he wanted to say. ‘Can you not see me? Who could be better qualified than me to wed this luminous beauty?’ But alas, he had just recently declared his intention to remain eternally celibate. He had even threatened to transform any woman who approached him into a creeper!
‘The sages say that they had witnessed auspicious signs indicating the birth of such a child in the not-too-distant past,’ said Indra. ‘They saw the moon in conjunction with the rising sun, looking as if it was on fire. The seas and the horizon took on a reddish hue while bright Agni sped past, carrying oblations to the sun. Further, they could see a massive battle taking place in the future between the gods and asuras, with this child leading our sena to victory.’
‘Such a glorious youth would indeed be the perfect choice for Devasena!’ smiled Parvati. ‘He will be a potent combination of opposing powers—the hot and fiery sun united with the calm and compassionate moon. He will be young and full of life as well as enlightened and wise. Your beloved daughter will be blessed to wed this strong-willed yet sensitive soul.’
The elders fell silent. The youngsters watched them anxiously, willing them to read their minds. It was Vishnu who put an end to their suffering. ‘I see that my sister and brother have come together to finalize our children’s marriage!’ he exclaimed as he appeared before them with a smile. ‘We must have a wedding so magnificent that the three realms are agog with excitement.’
The youngsters exchanged ecstatic looks. Indra laughed, pleased that his dream was coming true. Parvati was not yet willing to forego her amusement. ‘But my son does not wish to get married!’ she said to Vishnu. ‘He has told me quite clearly that he will punish any girl who approaches him with the intention of marriage. So be warned, Devasena!’ she laughed. Kartikeya looked distressed as Devasena cast a piteous look at him. ‘Did you really say that?’ she seemed to be asking. What could he do? How could he take back the rash statement he had made? He had merely wanted to stop his mother from following him around. But now his impulsiveness was hampering his chances of marrying Devasena. He looked anxiously at Vishnu, and saw a vision that made him reel in confusion.
Kartikeya heard the sound of a magical flute. Then he saw a blue-hued god seated on a swing, wearing a yellow silk garment, a peacock feather in his hair. Beside him sat a delicate beauty clasping his waist with he
r arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Behind them gleamed a lotus pool where a pair of swans floated in harmony. Am I dreaming or awake? he wondered. The next moment, the picture vanished and he saw Vishnu nodding to him.
‘Your son will not turn down my daughter, will he?’ Hari said, laughing. ‘Let us begin making preparations for their marriage.’ Kartikeya sighed with relief and turned his eyes to Devasena, who too was overcome by the subtle sorcery of love.
‘Do you wish for a showy wedding?’ he asked her with his eyes.
‘I would gladly wed you with just a garland of wildflowers,’ she replied. ‘Take me away to a place undiscovered by men or gods!’
‘We must go now, for we have a lot to do,’ said her father, and she was forced to leave with a last yearning look.
When they had left, Parvati smiled at Vishnu. ‘Your daughter is sweet and respectful, and my son could not have found a better bride,’ she said. ‘And with you and Indra by his side, he will never lack support for anything he does.’
‘The marriage of Shiva’s son with Vishnu’s daughter! What greater happiness could there be!’ exclaimed the devas, when they heard the news.
Vishvakarma chose a beautiful venue and built spacious halls and lofty mansions for the wedding. Soon, guests began to gather in large numbers, bringing gifts of pearls, jewels and unfading blossoms. Narada came to bless the couple and gasped when he saw the glittering wedding hall. ‘Allow me to enter, dwarapalakas,’ he said to the gatekeepers. ‘I am Narada, messenger of the gods.’ They appeared unimpressed and did not reply. Then, his mind’s eye saw what his physical eyes could not. The guards were not real but lifelike images! The sage shook his head in wonder and went past them to the wedding pavilions, filled with replicas of everything in Brahma’s creation. He saw the apsaras recoil in fear from the lions and wild elephants, unwilling to believe that they were not real. He saw Lakshmi and Saraswati hurrying to dress the bride in finery and breathtaking ornaments.
‘Kartikeya has entered the pavilion!’ said an excited voice. Devasena’s attendants, who were adorning themselves for the wedding, stopped what they were doing and rushed to look at the groom through the lattices of the bride’s mansion. An apsara who had been drawing beautiful patterns on her feet with red lac, ran to the window without waiting for it to dry, leaving dainty footprints on the floor. Another tripped over her jewelled skirt as she had not paused to tie its strings around her waist. The dawn goddess, Ushas, hurried forward, heedless of the gems that spilled from her delicate waist belt.
‘Fool that I was, I did not pray like you to attain Kartikeya as my husband!’ she said to the bride. ‘Soon, you will be embraced by those arms and kissed by those lips . . . my heart threatens to burst with envy!’ Devasena blushed and lowered her head.
Lakshmi and Saraswati then led the bride to the dais. Kartikeya gazed at her with his many eyes, rapt in adoration. Shiva and Parvati shed tears of joy as the saptarishis performed the rituals that brought the couple together. The groom waited impatiently for the guests to leave before carrying off his bride to his abode. The walls of his palace were constructed with red jasper that promoted emotional stability and spiritual insight. It was the stone of strength and endurance, and the talisman of warriors and heroes. The pillars were made of amethyst and various gems studded the floor, creating a joyful mosaic of colours. Their home soon echoed with the sound of joyous laughter.
Devasena was passion; she was perfection. Her childlike nature soon left her, as Kama pierced her heart with his five arrows. But she was still shy and drove Skanda mad with desire. ‘The moon looks down upon us,’ she would cry and run into their home when he reached for her. ‘Not before the fire,’ she would say. ‘For it is Agni who has come to bless our home!’ He would then take her to a dark cave that she would screen with a silken cloth, so that no eye could look upon them. He told her that her voice was sweeter than the koel’s and entreated her to speak more. ‘Call me by my name,’ he said. And she whispered, ‘Skanda, Kartikeya, Kumara, Guha, Subrahmanya . . . ’ Each name was a caress, each smile an invitation, each look a magic spell that bound them together. Once she was at ease with him, however, she prattled on without pause. And he let her words slide over him like a silver stream, a springtime breeze. They visited Shiva and Parvati sometimes, or Gajamukha, who was happily in love with his brides, Siddhi, Buddhi and Riddhi. When they returned home, their ardour burned with a fierceness that threatened to melt the glaciers. They thirsted for each other like the parched earth for rain.
Gradually Kartikeya discovered that Devasena was not just beautiful, she was a siddhi yogini, proficient in the secrets of yoga. Her devotees brought her champaka flowers, creamy in colour like her luminous skin. They prayed to her to bless them with children. She had restored King Priyavrata’s stillborn child to life, and he showed his reverence by offering prayers on the sixth day of the bright fortnight of the moon.
Taraka’s son Asurendra carried the news of his father’s death to Mahendrapuri, Surapadma’s capital. ‘A young boy who they say is Shiva’s son, Skanda, has killed my valorous father. I rushed back from my uncle Simhamukha’s capital but was too late to help him,’ he said, weeping bitterly. ‘Our commander, Krauncha, the scourge of rishis, was pierced through by the lad’s spear. The dead asuras are so numerous that their bodies still wait to be burned.’
Sura, more powerful and savage than Taraka, laughed out loud, slapping his thighs with glee. ‘My brother is playing a jest, I see, but not a very good one!’ he laughed. ‘Tell him I was not taken in even for a moment! How can I believe that invincible Taraka has been killed by a young boy? Stop this nonsense and tell me about my brother’s latest exploits. Which kings has he killed? Which new kingdoms has he seized?’
‘I wish I could say that all this is just a joke, my emperor,’ replied Asurendra. ‘I wish I could tell you that my father still sits on his throne like a mountain, indestructible and eternal . . . But my arms embraced him for the last time a little while ago and this hand lit his sandalwood pyre. My eyes saw the flames lick his mighty arms and head. Alas, my powerful father has succumbed to his fate. Did he not seek to be killed by Shiva’s son, one who was not born from Parvati’s womb?’
Sura was dumbstruck, finally realizing that the news was no joke. He did not care to find out about the killer yet. Grief struck him like a tidal wave and a torrent of incoherent words spilled from his mouth: ‘O, my brother, my brother! Sinner that I am, I was not there to save you. Beloved Taraka, your laugh scattered the elephants guarding the eight directions. Your prowess reduced Vishnu’s chakra to nothingness. O brother, if I could have died instead of you!’ he wailed.
Slowly his grief changed into an incendiary rage that threatened to burn the universe. He ordered the temples still remaining to be razed. He summoned his commanders to assemble their men in preparation for war. ‘I will destroy the heavens, cut off the heads of the gods! And this boy, who had the temerity to kill my brother—I will place him on a rack and torture him until he curses the day he was born!’ he thundered.
13
The Snake God
A traveller through the forest looked endlessly for the village where he always halted to savour the hospitality of its people. But where it had stood, serene in the midst of a clearing, there now grew a dense clump of trees that rustled and hissed as if a monster lived within. Was that a cry for help he heard or was it his fevered imagination at work? He stared at the trees, wondering if they had swallowed the village and formed a cage with their thorny branches, blocking out all light and air. He heard a fierce hiss again and fled from there, resolved never to return to this haunted place again.
Meanwhile, Kartikeya’s fame spread far and wide and every day new supplicants came to seek his favour. They built many temples to worship him, installing his image with sacred rituals. Parvati’s son was happy with his lovely Devasena, surrounded by the love of gods and ganas. Yet, he felt an unease deep within, and began to ponder silently, yearning to
understand himself better. He had come far, from Svetagiri to Kailasa, from the animals on the mountain to the devas dwelling in the higher realms. But what did his future hold? How should he direct his life? His destiny had to be something more meaningful, something greater. He was restless and needed answers.
Kumara decided to go to Vaikunta and seek the lord’s counsel. He gazed raptly at Vishnu’s beautiful form and worshipped him:
‘You made the earth and the sea glinting blue
Created beast and man with shining claw and tooth
The wind for pillar and the sun for lamp
Enclosing it all in the folds of the sky
With you in the centre, O Mystic One
Bless me, dark lord of the cosmic sea.’
Vishnu, lying on his serpent bed, blessed him with fame and glory. However, he could sense Kartikeya’s pain, torn as he was between joy and disquiet, struggling to reconcile the pulls of worldly and spiritual life.
Skanda erupted with questions that had lain dormant for a while. ‘O, source of wisdom! Allow me to share my qualms,’ he said. ‘I fear that I was too arrogant in chastising Brahma and taking over his duties. I wonder too if I was right to cause so much death during my battle with Taraka. Is destiny irreversible? Could I have chosen to do anything else? Could I have done more to save Taraka who was Kashyapa’s descendant and had been blessed by Brahma?’
‘Your treatment of Brahma was provoked by his own arrogant demeanour and behaviour,’ said Vishnu in response. ‘Should he not have acted differently, being grey-haired and wise while you were a mere child? As for Taraka, he invited his fate by his wicked actions. What choice did you have but to redeem those who suffered under his tyranny? Your decisions cannot be construed as sin. However, as you are troubled by your conscience, I would advise you to expiate your guilt by worshipping Shiva.’
Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer Page 13