Prem Purana

by Usha Narayanan

  ‘No, my love,’ Ravana replied. ‘I was the one who betrayed you. I have a secret too, the secret of why I was rendered helpless when I saw Rama on Hanuman’s back. I realized soon afterwards that my opponent was the lord I had served for many yugas. Rama was the great Vishnu with the infinite arms, whose eyes are the sun and the moon—the one who pervades earth and heaven and dazzles the three realms with his radiance. I had run amuck in pursuit of pleasure, deluded by lust and greed, forgetting the One who is the final destination. I failed to realize that earthly desire can never be quenched and that it can only trap you in an endless cycle of birth and death. If I had been wise, I would have turned instead to Narayana who is the ultimate bliss.’

  He gasped in pain and Mandodari moistened his throat with some water. Sugriva and Angada, Hanuman and Vibhishana, Rama and Lakshmana had all moved closer to the dying warrior. Rama’s face was gentle as he listened to his penitent devotee.

  ‘My past life was revealed to me in a flash,’ continued Ravana, in a final burst of strength. ‘Kumbhakarna and I were then Vishnu’s gatekeepers named Jaya and Vijaya. We had stopped Brahma’s sons, the Sanat Kumaras, without knowing who they were. And they had cursed us to be born on earth. When we begged for forgiveness, the gracious Vishnu told us that we could choose to live seven lives as his devotees or three lives as his foes. Wishing to return to him sooner, we chose to live three evil lives. We were born first as Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha and were slain by Varaha and Narasimha, avataras of Vishnu. And once I discovered who Rama was, I resolved to die by his hands alone. Only then could I be redeemed from the sin of abducting the divine Lakshmi, the Shakti I worshipped every day in Vaikunta. I had laid rough hands on the Devi who had incarnated with her lord in order to destroy evil.’

  ‘She chose to suffer like no woman before her, only to lessen the earth’s burden of wickedness,’ said Mandodari. ‘I held her in my arms for a few moments and hope that her divine touch may free my soul too from sin.’

  ‘I understand now why I could not let her go, for without her I am nothing,’ whispered Ravana. ‘My bond with her is eternal, but my rakshasa eyes failed to discern the truth. I kept her captive even after I discovered that Rama was Vishnu, only so that I could offer him my life. Now my second life of sin comes to an end and just one more life remains before I can return to Vaikunta.’

  ‘If you knew that Rama was the avatara, could you not have surrendered to him, my king? Why did you continue the fight to the bitter end?’

  ‘By holding all the evil forces together, I could help Rama destroy them completely,’ said Ravana. ‘My life and death would also help mortals understand the results of leading a sinful life of indulgence. This was the least I could do when my god and goddess had chosen to be born as humans and suffer pain and separation, just to show us that we too can aspire to perfection.’

  Ravana moved a hand feebly in her direction and she clasped it in her own and raised it to her lips. ‘To do this, however, I had to turn my back on you and your wisdom, my heart,’ he said. ‘I realize now that I was so strongly drawn to Sita because I saw you in her, for she is your daughter. Seek her forgiveness on my behalf after I die. Tell the goddess that I will return to Vaikunta one day and be her slave for eternity. May my end show the world that virtue will ultimately triumph over evil.’

  His eyes blazed as he relived again the last moments of the battle, when Rama had sent Shiva’s astra hurtling forward, lighting up the farthest corners of the universe. Ravana had seen Vishnu’s Sudarshana chakra blaze forth from Vishnu and join its force with the astra. The divine weapon had entered his chest, quenching the power of his boons and the pride in his heart. It had then flown through the spheres to the cosmic ocean to wash away the blood and then returned to Rama’s mystic quiver. How blessed he had been to be granted this vision!

  He saw that his Mandodari was speaking, her body shaking with grief. ‘I cannot live without you, my Ravana,’ she said. ‘I will die with you.’

  ‘No, my queen. Remember that women killed themselves after their men died in war only because they feared that they would be raped and tortured by the enemy. You need fear nothing when my brother Vibhishana rules as king. It is your duty to guide him and ensure the welfare of our people. You are brave and wise and the mother of indomitable Indrajit. Did you not hear the vanaras exclaim that if there had been more Indrajits, many more Ramas would have had to be born?’

  Mandodari smiled tremulously in response and he turned his eyes to Vibhishana. ‘Give her due respect and follow her advice, Vibhishana,’ he said, ‘for she is far-sighted and unerring in her judgement.’ Vibhishana nodded, his eyes tearing up as he saw again his virtuous brother who had temporarily lost his way.

  From the heavens echoed a voice in blessing. ‘Ravana, you are now the true grandson of Pulastya. You have been purified by the fire and will soon return to blissful Vaikunta. The gods bless Mandodari, the embodiment of purity and love. She will be revered henceforth as one of the panchakanya, along with Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti and Tara. Those who evoke these five maidens will be forever redeemed from sin.’

  Ravana turned his eyes in adoration at Rama. ‘Every child born here will tell your story, noble Rama,’ he said. ‘Countless will be the boys named Rama, Raghava and Raghuvira, and girls named Sita, Mythili and Janaki. I worship you, great one, whose every step measures the three worlds. I worship you, greatest of yogis, who is the beginning, middle and end of all beings. The one who holds the conch, the chakra and the mace and grants us freedom from fear. The god who embodies divine love with your goddess. Rama, you are righteousness, while Sita is righteous action. You are space and she is the sky. You are the sun and she the sunlight. You are the ocean and she the shore. There is nothing beyond you two. Grant me your blessings, O Narayana!’

  So died Ravana, the most powerful of rakshasas and the greatest of bhaktas. Magnificent in life and glorious in death. His story revealed the potent power of love that can save a tortured soul. His spirit emerged as a radiant light and merged with Rama’s, for he who thinks of Vishnu when he dies attains the lord’s feet.

  Mandodari wept for the great love of her life. Then she heard Ravana’s voice in her ear. ‘My heart is always yours, my queen,’ he said. ‘Do not weep, for we will be united again in a purer world.’

  DAMAYANTI’S RIDDLE

  1

  The Swan from Heaven

  Gagana, king of the swans, flew through the dark clouds, his gold plumes glittering like lightning on a monsoon night. The storm was at its wildest and he was unable to keep to his course though he struggled with all his might. Why, oh why had he not left with his flock before the onset of the rainy season? He would have been safe now in his celestial home in Lake Manasarovar instead of being battered by the gale. But he was the trusted emissary between earth and heaven and had tarried in order to carry a message from Bhima, the ruler of Vidarbha, to Indra, king of the devas.

  The divine hamsa scurried for cover in a marble pavilion, shook the water from his sodden feathers, tucked his beak into his body and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Nala, the young ruler of Nishada, whose garden he had landed in, had been sitting alone under a golden canopy, pining for a woman he had not yet seen. Travelling bards had sung praises about a lovely princess when they had passed through his court a few months ago.

  ‘Great Nala, king of kings, tiger among men, more dazzling than Surya!’ they had lauded him. ‘We bring you tidings of the ravishing Damayanti, daughter of King Bhima of Vidarbha. She is radiant like Ushas, the dawn goddess who rides a golden chariot over snow-clad mountains and fleecy clouds. She is fashioned out of all things lovely by Kama, the love god. Marry her, Nala, and you will be happier than Shiva with Parvati or Vishnu with Shri.’

  From that day onward, Nala had been lovelorn and distraught, waiting impatiently to be invited to Damayanti’s swayamvara, for it was the practice in those days for a princess to choose her bridegroom from the suitors invited for the
occasion. Nala often sat alone in his scented garden, where golden fish darted in lotus pools and dappled does roamed the green lawns. He watched vivid parrots fluttering in the orange trees and peacocks preening atop carved pillars. But all this beauty only served to remind him that the wondrous princess he desired was not by his side to enjoy these blissful sights. An owl hooted in a branch above, the honeybees buzzed around perfumed flowers and the koel banished the silence with its plaintive call. But all he could hear was the echo of a single name: ‘Damayanti, Damayanti!’

  Nala was startled from his reverie by a glimpse of golden wings flitting through the trees, and hurried to discover the identity of his radiant visitor. Seeing the gorgeous bird in the pavilion, he crept towards him on soft feet and stood gazing at him. Strangely, the swan did not stir or even open his eyes. The king saw that his wings were wet and bedraggled and that he appeared to be severely battered by the storm winds. Nala’s heart melted with pity and he caught the bird up gently in his arms and cradled him close to his chest. He then used his soft sash to blot the water gently from his feathers, hoping to warm him up sufficiently so that he came alive again.

  The king sighed in relief when the bird finally moved his legs and opened his eyes to gaze at his benefactor. ‘Do not fear, beautiful one,’ said Nala. ‘I am Nala, king of Nishada, and I mean you no harm. Rest awhile in my arms until you feel stronger.’

  To his surprise, the swan did not seem afraid but merely drew back his head to gaze into the king’s eyes. ‘Did you snatch me up thinking that you would become rich with the gold in my plumes?’ he joked, speaking in a human voice. The startled king staggered and almost dropped him. The swan laughed and continued to talk in a feeble voice. ‘You should know that I am Gagana and that I am blessed by Brahma himself! I have heard wondrous tales about you in heaven, my friend. They say that you are a great warrior and a generous and compassionate king whom his people love. Why, it is even believed that you can speak the language of birds and beasts!’

  ‘All creatures understand the language of love, Gagana,’ said Nala, happy to see that the bird was regaining his strength gradually.

  ‘I wish to reciprocate your kindness, Nala, and promise to help you attain your deepest desire.’

  ‘If only you could!’ smiled Nala. ‘My heart aches to find a way to wed the fair Damayanti, King Bhima’s daughter.’

  Gagana looked thoughtfully at him, realizing that this gracious and compassionate king was a far finer match for the princess than Indra. ‘If that is your wish, I promise that I will help you win the maiden’s hand!’ he said solemnly.

  Nala nodded, not wishing to hurt the swan’s feelings by questioning him on how a bird could help him win a princess. Instead, he would try and find out what the swan knew about her, for he seemed to be well-informed about affairs on earth and in heaven. ‘Tell me about Damayanti, wise one, for I yearn helplessly for her from dawn to the darkest hour of the night!’ he said.

  ‘I was sent by her father to invite Indra to descend to earth and marry her,’ said Gagana. Nala looked at him in panic, wondering how he could succeed in his love when her father had chosen the god of thunder as her groom. The swan continued soothingly. ‘But I see now that you are more deserving of the princess. You will make her the queen of your heart, unlike Indra who is adored by his wife Indrani and the many apsaras in his court. Permit me to rest awhile in your kingdom and I will then go to Damayanti and tell her about your goodness and your love. As I promised you, I will ensure that she chooses you for her husband and none other.’

  Realizing that Nala still looked dazed, the swan said, ‘You seem to doubt my powers, O king. Hence I will tell you a story of the ancient bond between the gods and the birds. In earlier ages, swans were not pure white as they are now but had feathers that were both black and white. The devas were attending a yagna in a rishi’s ashram when they heard the thundering of the chariot wheels of the dire rakshasa king Ravana. Fearful of his terrifying strength, the gods hid from him by taking the forms of various creatures. Indra became a peacock, Yama a crow, Kubera a chameleon and Varuna a swan. Ravana was taken in by their disguises and went his way, confident that none of his enemies was near. The gods rewarded the birds and the chameleon for their help. They blessed the peacock with stunning beauty and chose the crow to receive the offerings made to ancestors. They endowed the chameleon with the ability to change the colour of his skin and gave the hamsa flawless white feathers and the power of discrimination. And as you know, Brahma and his wife Saraswati have chosen our species to serve as their vehicles. So do not doubt my capabilities, noble king. Trust me when I say that I will help you win Damayanti, though the gods stand in my way!’

  Gagana soon arrived at Damayanti’s palace in the Vidarbha capital of Kundinapur and attracted her attention with his brilliance and his grace. The princess ran after him, eager to hold him. Her maids followed her, laughing merrily. Realizing that the bird seemed alarmed by their chatter, Damayanti told them to leave her so that she could try and catch the lustrous bird herself. The hamsa pranced before her on its bright yellow feet, luring the princess to a far corner of the garden. She crept nearer and swept the bird up into her arms. The swan surprised her by showing himself to be quite tame. He nestled his head against her chest and allowed her to stroke his golden wings while he pecked gently at her lips that gleamed like ripe cherries.

  ‘So beautiful are you, princess, that I would marry you myself!’ he said, to her amazement. ‘If only I had not sworn eternal devotion to my wife . . . We swans mate for life, you know. And also, I promised King Nala that I would win your heart for him!’

  Damayanti’s eyes twinkled. ‘We must also remember that you are not of my kind, however talented you may be!’ she teased him. ‘But tell me more about this King Nala to whom you have so rashly promised my hand!’

  ‘The king of Nishada is dashing and dauntless, perfect in form and nature. He is first among archers, beloved of his people and exalted like the sun. Just as you are a nonpareil in women, so is he in men. And he dies in love for you, peerless princess!’ Gagana spoke ardently of Nala’s attributes and drew a portrait of the king for her on a lotus leaf. Damayanti felt her heart fluttering in response and she too began to desire a meeting with this dream lover.

  ‘I will have my father arrange a swayamvara and ensure that he sends an invitation to Nala,’ she said. ‘Ask your noble friend to wait for the news and assure him that I have been won over by your adulation for him.’ She dropped a soft kiss on Gagana’s head, making him preen.

  ‘I will go at once, princess, to convey your feelings to Nala. Then I must return to my wife who waits impatiently for me on the shores of Manasarovar. I will tell her very little about you, for she will be jealous when she finds out how much you adore me!’

  So saying, the bird shot into the air to fly to Nishada again, while Damayanti cradled the leaf with Nala’s portrait close to her bosom.

  Soon, her handmaidens came looking for her and were startled to find her sitting wan and listless, as if their sparkling mistress had been replaced by a hollow replica. In the days that followed, Damayanti’s doleful sighs and her strange silences worried them no end. Her mother deciphered her mood and hurried to the king to tell him that it was time to hold a swayamvara for their daughter.

  Why has Indra not come as yet despite the message I sent through Gagana? wondered King Bhima, forced now to agree to his wife’s counsel. He sent out fleet horsemen to far-flung kingdoms to deliver the news that his daughter was ready to choose her husband. Many kings and princes, who had heard reports of Damayanti’s bewitching beauty, hastened to Kundinapur. The earth trembled to the rhythm of festive drums, the rumbling of chariot wheels and the trampling feet of palanquin bearers bearing their monarchs to the kingdom of the radiant princess. All other affairs of state, including wars, were set aside, as their hearts and minds converged on one cause and one alone.

  Devarishi Narada, whose actions often influenced destiny, presented
himself before Indra. The god of thunder welcomed him warmly and sought to know everything that was happening in the three realms. ‘An unusual peace seems to be reigning on earth,’ Indra said. ‘I see no kings vying to reach my loka after fighting and dying on the battlefield.’

  The sage informed Indra that the kings were all united in their desire to win not kingdoms but the hand of the fair Damayanti. ‘If her beauty has such power, then I too will attend her swayamvara!’ said Indra. ‘There can be no suitor more dazzling than me.’

  ‘We will come with you and hope that she will look on one of us with favour!’ said Yama, Varuna and Agni, gods of death, water and fire. Their glorious cavalcades set off soon, lighting up the skyways like a hail of meteors.

  Below on earth they saw a resplendent figure in a chariot going to Bhima’s capital, followed by decorated elephants and a galaxy of warriors. Indra recognized King Nala and grew afraid that he would eclipse all the celestials with his radiance.

  ‘We must deflect him from his purpose or our mission will be doomed,’ he said to the other gods and descended to earth to intercept the king. ‘We are the guardians of the realms and have a mission for you, O Nala!’ he said. Nala bowed to them and expressed his obedience, dazzled by their luminous forms and commanding presence. ‘Be our messenger and tell the lovely Damayanti that she must wed one of us!’ said Indra.