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On the cool bank of the Kalindi, six princes sat fasting. They were the sons of Vaivasvata Manu: Karusha, Prishadhra, Nabhaga, Dishta, Sharyati, and Trishanku. Every one of them was mighty in arms, yet at that hour neither kingdom nor conquest moved them; they wanted only to worship the Goddess. They fashioned separate images out of the earth and honored them with every kind of rite, and then they began to give up food itself, sustaining their lives first on dry leaves, then on air, then on water, then on smoke, and at the last on the rays of the sun, taking up a fierce austerity.
Twelve years passed. Their minds grew so clear that the whole world began to appear inside them. Then the Mistress of the Universe appeared, bright as a thousand suns. Overcome with feeling, the six princes broke into praise and asked for a boon: a kingdom free of every thorn, long-lived children, unbroken enjoyment, and to stand unconquerable before all. The Goddess said “So be it,” and added one thing more: “By my grace, each of you in turn will become the lord of a Manvantara.” And so it came to pass. Those same six became, in the ages ahead, Daksha-Savarni the ninth Manu, Meru-Savarni the tenth, Surya-Savarni the eleventh, Chandra-Savarni the twelfth, Rudra-Savarni the thirteenth, and Vishnu-Savarni the fourteenth, and by Bhramari’s grace they became masters of great splendor and strength.
Here Narada broke in with a question: “Who is this Bhramari Devi, how did she appear, what form does she wear? I have drunk the nectar that is the Goddess’s story, and still I am not sated. Even one who drinks the nectar of the gods may yet die; one who listens to this story never will.” Then Sri Narayana told him that wondrous tale.
Aruna’s Austerity and Brahma’s Boon
In an earlier age there was a mighty daitya named Aruna, an enemy of the gods, cruel past all measure, a dweller in the netherworld. Set on conquering the gods, he went toward the Himalaya and sat beside the icy waters of the Ganga, and there he took up a hard austerity to please Brahma the lotus-born, reasoning that Brahma alone could be his protector. Holding his breath, filled with the dark quality of tamas, driven by desire, he sank into the recitation of the Gayatri mantra. For ten thousand years he drank only drops of water, for another ten thousand years he lived on air, and for ten thousand more he took no food at all, and so he carried on his austerity.
From this austerity a fire rose out of his body and began to scorch the whole world. Trembling, the gods cried, “What is this, what is this,” and fled to Brahma for shelter. The four-faced Brahma came, mounted on his swan, with Gayatri beside him. The daitya’s belly had shriveled, his body was wasted, his eyes were closed in meditation, and the heat of him made him look like a second fire. Brahma said, “Dear child, may it be well with you. Ask for whatever is in your heart.”
Aruna rose, bowed, and asked for this boon: that death should never touch him. Brahma explained that when even Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesha become the food of death, insisting on immortality does not suit the wise; he should ask for something else. Then Aruna said, “Then grant me this: that my death come not in battle, nor from any weapon, nor from any man, nor from any woman, nor from a two-footed creature, nor from a four-footed one, nor from any being of both shapes together; and grant me such strength that my victory over the gods will hold.” Brahma said “So be it” and returned to his own world.
The moment he had the boon, pride swelled inside Aruna. He summoned the daityas of the netherworld, they made him their king, and he sent an envoy toward Amaravati. The instant Indra, king of the gods, heard the envoy’s message, he began to tremble, and with the other gods he fled first to Brahma’s world and then to Shiva’s. Meanwhile Aruna seized heaven for himself. By the power of his austerity he took on many forms and brought under his control, one by one, the offices of Surya, Chandra, Yama, and even Agni. The gods, driven from their places, went to Kailasa and began to tell Shankara the whole tale of their grief.
Giving Up the Gayatri
Shankara too fell into thought, for Brahma’s boon was fixed and could not be undone: no battle, no weapon, no man, no woman, no two-footed being, no four-footed one, nothing could kill him. Then a voice from the sky brought comfort: “Worship the Goddess Bhuvaneshvari. This Aruna is absorbed in reciting the Gayatri; only if he gives up the worship of Gayatri does his death become possible.”
Hearing this, the gods laid a plan. Indra called the guru Brihaspati and said, “Guru, by some means bring it about that Aruna gives up his recitation of the Gayatri. In the meantime, all of us will worship the Goddess in deep meditation.” With that, the gods went to the Goddess Jambunadeshvari and sank into the recitation of the maya-bija, and Brihaspati quickly made his way to Aruna.
The daitya king asked, “Sage, what purpose brings you here? I am no ally of yours; I have always been your enemy.” Brihaspati answered with perfect ease: “The very Goddess we worship, you too worship without pause; so tell me, how are you not on our side?” Deluded by the gods’ maya, the daitya filled with pride, and to prove that he was indeed an enemy of the gods, he gave up the recitation of the supreme Gayatri mantra altogether. The moment the recitation stopped, all his splendor drained away. Brihaspati went back in silence and told Indra everything that had happened.
Bhramari Appears
A long time passed, and one day the Mother of the World appeared. Her radiance was that of ten million suns, her beauty that of ten million gods of love. Wondrous unguents lay on her limbs; she wore two lovely garments, a strange garland, and rare ornaments. In her fist were wondrous bees, and her hands held the gestures of boon-giving and of fearlessness; she was serene, an ocean of the nectar of compassion. On every side countless bees, the bhramaris, encircled her, singing the sound “Hrim.” Placing Brahma and Vishnu at their head, the gods began the praise the Vedas set down for her, bowing to her as the maker of creation, preservation, and dissolution, as Durga, Kali, Tara, Tripurasundari, Shakambhari, and in her many forms. And they said, “Because you are forever surrounded by bees, the bhramaras, you are called Bhramari; to you, again and again, we bow.”
Hearing this sweet praise from the gods, the Mother of the World, whose voice was like that of an intoxicated cuckoo, was pleased, and she said, “Gods, I am ever pleased; tell me the desire of your hearts.” With great humility the gods told her the cause of their sorrow, laying out just as it stood the whole account of wicked Aruna’s cruelty and of the boon Brahma had given.
The Deluge of Bees
When she had heard it all, the great Goddess stirred the bees of many forms that rested on her hands, at her sides, and before her, and at the same moment she brought forth countless new bees, until the three worlds were full of them. The swarms poured out like armies of locusts; the middle air was covered over, darkness spread across the earth, and everywhere, in the sky, on the mountain peaks, in the trees and the forests, there were bees and only bees. Streaming out, they began to pierce the chests of the daityas the way enraged honeybees sting a man who steals their honey.
Now no missile served, and no weapon; the daityas could not fight, and they could not so much as speak a word to one another. Brahma’s boon held firm in its place, yet it could not so much as touch this swarm of bees, for they were no men, no women, no two-footed beings, no four-footed ones, no blow of any weapon; they fell outside every word of the boon. Wherever each daitya stood, in whatever state he was, there in a single moment, amid wild laughter, he met his death; Aruna too was destroyed, along with his entire host. Their work done, the bees returned to the Goddess.
“This is a wonder,” they all began to say; yet for the Mother of the World, whose maya is such as this, what task is hard? Sunk in an ocean of joy, the gods worshipped the Goddess with every kind of rite, rained down flowers, and raised shouts of victory. In the sky the kettledrums sounded, the apsaras danced, the gandharvas sang, and the foremost sages recited the Vedas. Pleased, the great Goddess gave each of them a separate boon, granted them her abundant devotion, and even as they watched she vanished from sight. Whoever reads and hears this story of Bhramari day after day is freed from all sins and attains union with the Goddess.
Source: Srimad Devi Bhagavata Mahapurana (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)