The war between Indra and Vritra had gone on so long that the three worlds lay exhausted under it. Vritra, the son of Tvashta, had filled the whole brahmanda with his blaze and stood as though ready to burn the three worlds to ash and swallow the gods, and Indra could neither beat him nor sleep. So the gods had gone to the Devi, and when she stood before them, four-armed and three-eyed, in red, the noose and the goad and the gestures of boon and fearlessness in her hands, they had asked her for two things: to delude Vritra into trusting them, and to put her strength into their weapon. “So be it,” she had said, and vanished. Vyasa was telling Janamejaya what came of that boon.
Holding it, the gods and the ascetic rishis took counsel together and set out for Vritra’s fine ashrama. They found him there blazing, and the rishis went up to him and spoke for the gods’ purpose, in words that were conciliatory, full of rasa, pleasing to hear. His enmity with Indra, they told him, was eating the happiness of both; neither of them slept content, because the fear an enemy breeds stays with both, and every creature, gods and rakshasas and men, had suffered through the long years of their fighting. One who keeps up an enmity gets no happiness. “One should not fight even with flowers, let alone with sharp arrows. In war victory is doubtful; the pain of arrows in the body is certain.” Victory and defeat are in the hands of daiva, so who would fight? The saying that dying in battle wins heaven is a lure and a goad that means nothing; what dull man would want his body cut by weapons and pecked by jackals and crows for a heaven afterward? Let there be lasting friendship between Vritra and Indra, they said, so that munis, gandharvas, kinnaras and men could live at peace again; they would be the mediators of it, have oaths sworn, and make the two dear friends, and Indra would swear before Vritra in whatever words Vritra chose. “On truth the earth stands. By truth the sun burns day after day, by truth the wind blows in its season, by truth the ocean does not leave its bounds. So let friendship be made today on the ground of truth, so that you two may sleep, play, sport in the water and sit together at ease.”
Vritra heard the great rishis out. “All of you ascetics are honored by me. You munis never speak an untruth, and you do not know deceit. A wise man never makes friends with an enemy, a cheat, a dullard, a lecher, a man who has lost his standing, or a man without shame. This Indra is shameless, of bad conduct, a killer of Brahmins, a lecher and a fool; such a person must never be trusted. Being calm, you do not know the minds of the overbearing.” The munis answered that every creature enjoys the fruit of its own deeds. “For killers of Brahmins and drinkers of liquor there is an expiation; for betrayers of trust and betrayers of friends there is none. So tell us the condition you have fixed in your mind, and by that condition let there be a treaty between you today.” Vritra named it. “Let Indra with all the gods be unable to kill me with anything dry or anything wet, with stone, with wood, with the vajra, by day or by night. On this condition I wish a treaty with Indra, and on no other.”
The rishis bowed to the condition, summoned Indra there and told it to him. In the presence of the munis, with Agni as his witness, Indra swore the oaths, and the fever went out of him. Vritra was won to trust by those words and behaved toward Indra as a friend. Sometimes in Nandana, sometimes on Gandhamadana, sometimes on the shore of the sea, the two wandered together in joy, and with the treaty made Vritra was very glad. Indra wanted him dead. He thought about the means, he looked for the weak spot, and the looking kept him in constant anxiety. Time passed in this way, and Vritra came to trust that most cruel of friends completely; some years went by after the treaty, and all through them Indra turned over in his mind the ways of Vritra’s death.
The Ambush at Dusk
Tvashta saw how far his son’s trust had gone, and once he spoke to him. “Son, hear a word that is for your good. Never trust one with whom there has been enmity. Indra is your enemy; through others he is always looking for faults in your merits. He is mad with greed, he delights in another’s sorrow, he runs after other men’s wives, he is a cheat, a seeker of weak spots, a user of maya, and proud. This is the one who once entered a mother’s womb and cut the embryo there into seven pieces, and when he saw the pieces weeping, cut each of them into seven again without mercy. Son, what shame has one who has sinned in sinning again?” His father’s words were reasoned and they were kind, and Vritra, whose death was already near, understood none of them.
One day Indra saw the great asura alone on the shore of the sea. It was the hour of sandhya, the dreadful moment when the day has gone and the night has not come, and Indra remembered the condition the great munis had fixed. This is the dreadful sandhya, he thought; now it is neither day nor night; I must kill him today by my strength, there is no doubt of it. The place is lonely, he is alone, and the time is fitting. With that he remembered in his mind the imperishable Hari, and Purushottama Vishnu came there unseen, entered Indra’s vajra, and stayed inside it.
How shall I kill in battle this enemy whom no god and no danava can conquer, Indra thought. If I do not kill this mighty one today by deceit, there is no good for me while he lives. As he thought so, he saw in the sea a mass of foam heaped up like a mountain: neither dry nor wet, and no weapon. He lifted that sea-foam as if in play, and then, with the deepest devotion, he remembered Parashakti Jagadamba; and the instant she was remembered, the Devi placed a portion of herself in the foam. Indra wrapped the Hari-filled vajra in the foam and hurled it at Vritra. Struck without warning, Vritra fell like a mountain. Indra was overjoyed, and the rishis praised him with hymn after hymn; and he and the gods worshiped the Devi by whose grace the enemy had been killed, and pleased her with many hymns. In Nandana, the gods’ own garden, Indra built a temple to Parashakti and installed in it an image made of padmaraga, the ruby, and all the gods worshiped her there at the three times of the day. From then on Shri Devi was the kuladevata of the gods. With Vritra dead, Indra worshiped Vishnu too, the best in the three worlds; an auspicious wind blew, and gods, gandharvas, yakshas, rakshasas and kinnaras rejoiced. So Vritra died suddenly at Indra’s hand: because of the foam that Parashakti had entered, and because she had deluded him into trusting. For this the Devi is sung in the worlds as Vritranihantri, the killer of Vritra; and because he was visibly killed by Indra, it is said that Indra killed him.
The Shadow of Brahmahatya
Vishnu saw him fall and, fearing in his mind the guilt of that killing, went to Vaikuntha. Indra, afraid, went to Indrapuri. Even the munis were afraid now that the enemy was dead, and they turned on themselves. “What a deceitful sin we have done! By siding with Indra our very name of muni has lost its meaning. By our words Vritra came to trust; by keeping company with a betrayer we too have become betrayers.” One who advises sin, gives the idea for it, urges it, or takes the sinner’s side shares the sin like the doer, they said, and Vishnu, the embodiment of sattva, who had helped Indra by entering the vajra, had sinned too, for a creature that seeks its own ends does not fear sin. Of the four aims of life, dharma and moksha had grown rare in the three worlds; artha and kama alone were dear to everyone, and the debate over dharma and adharma was verbal hypocrisy now, even in the great. Grieving so, the munis went dejected to their own ashramas. Tvashta heard that Indra had killed his son, and he wept, scorched with grief. He went to the place where Vritra had fallen, had the rites for the dead done as they should be done, bathed, offered the water, and then, in his anguish, cursed Indra, the killer of a friend. “As my son was killed after being lured by oaths, so let Indra too meet a great sorrow ordained by fate.” Having cursed him, Tvashta took refuge on a peak of Meru and gave himself to very hard tapas.
Janamejaya asked the question a listener asks here: after killing Tvashta’s son, what state did Indra reach? Did happiness follow, or sorrow? Vyasa answered him. What doubt can there be? The fruit of good and bad deeds must be enjoyed; strong or weak, gods, asuras or men, whether the deed is small or great, all must taste what it bears. Vishnu gave Indra the idea; Vishnu entered the vajra and helped him; and when the trouble came, Vasudeva gave no help at all. In good times everyone in this world is one’s own. When daiva turns its face away, no one helps: father, mother, wife, the brother born of the same womb, servant, friend, or the son of one’s own body; the doer of a sin or a merit is alone its enjoyer. After Vritra’s killing everyone else went away, and Indra lost his luster. All the gods censured him and said softly, “He is a brahmaha, a killer of a Brahmin.” The talk ran everywhere, in the assembly of the gods, in their garden, in the gatherings of the gandharvas: who, having sworn oaths and given his word, would kill a muni who trusted him? By killing Vritra by deceit, Indra had thrown away the authority of the Vedas and taken up the doctrine of the Saugatas; who besides Indra or Hari would turn so against his own given word? Indra heard it all, and heard his fame going. Shame on the soiled life of a man whose fame is lost, he thought; an enemy smiles to see him on the road. He counted the fallen. Indradyumna had fallen from heaven through loss of fame with no sin on him; how should a sinner stand? Yayati had fallen for a very small fault; a certain king had lived as a crab for eighteen yugas; for cutting off the head of Bhrigu’s wife, Achyuta Hari himself had been born by a Brahmin’s curse in animal wombs, the makara among them, and had had to become Vamana and go begging at Bali’s door; Shri Rama too, by Bhrigu’s curse, had suffered the pain of separation from Sita in the forest. What wonder, then, if an evildoer suffers? So Indra, with the great fear of brahmahatya on him, found no ease even in a house furnished with every siddhi. Shachi, Pauloma’s daughter, saw him keeping away from the assembly, sighing, afraid, dejected, and asked him, “Why are you afraid now? Your terrible enemy is dead. Why do you grieve and sigh like an ordinary man?” “I have no strong enemy now,” Indra said, “and I am afraid all the time, from the fear of brahmahatya. Nandana gives me no pleasure, nor amrita, nor the house, nor the forest; nor the singing of gandharvas, nor the dancing of apsaras; nor you, nor Kamadhenu, nor the kalpavriksha. What shall I do, where shall I go, where will I find peace?” Having said this to his distressed wife, Indra, his wits gone dull, left his house and went to the Manasa lake. Afflicted by fear and grief, he entered the stalk of a lotus. Overpowered by his sins, the king of the gods was known to no one; he lived hidden in the water, moving like a serpent, helpless, anxious, his senses in disorder.
With Indra vanished under the fear of brahmahatya, the gods grew anxious, and portents broke out one after another; rishis, siddhas and gandharvas were afraid. The whole world, overrun by calamities, fell into kinglessness. There was no rain; the earth lost its wealth; the streams of the rivers broke off and the lakes stood without water. Seeing this anarchy, the gods and the munis of heaven took counsel and made Nahusha the Indra.
The Pride of Nahusha
Nahusha had the kingdom, and Nahusha was a most righteous king; and the force of rajas took hold of him all the same, and the arrows of Kama, the five-arrowed god, struck him, and he became attached to the objects of the senses. He sported in the gardens of the gods with apsaras always around him. Then he heard of the virtues of Indra’s wife, and he wanted her. He said to the rishis, “Why does Indrani not come to me? You and all the gods made me Vasava here, so send Shachi to serve me. Munis and gods must do what pleases me. Today I am the Indra of the gods and the lord of the worlds; let Shachi come to my dwelling, and let her come today.”
The gods and the devarshis went in anxiety to Pauloma’s daughter, bowed, and told her. “The wicked Nahusha desires you now. He told us in anger, Send Shachi here. What can we do? We are under him, since he has been made Indra.” Shachi’s face fell, and she went to Brihaspati, the guru of the gods. “Protect me from Nahusha. I have come to you for refuge.” “Do not fear Nahusha,” Brihaspati said; “sin has deluded him. Daughter, I will not abandon the eternal dharma and give you to him. The lowest of men who hands over a distressed one who came for refuge goes to hell until the dissolution of beings. Be at ease; I will never forsake you.”
When Nahusha heard that Shachi had gone to the guru for refuge, Kama’s arrows hurt him worse, and he turned his anger on the son of Angiras. “This Brihaspati shall surely be killed by me today, for I hear the fool keeps Indrani in his house.” The gods, led by the chief rishis, tried to soothe the dreadful king. The dharmashastras condemn the touching of another’s wife, they said; Shachi was chaste, and while her husband lived she could take no other; Nahusha was lord of the three worlds now and the protector of dharma, and if one like him stood in adharma the people would perish. There were hundreds of leading apsaras in heaven equal to Shachi. Mutual love is the cause of shringara; where force is used there is only the loss of rasa. Nahusha answered them. “When Indra enjoyed Gautama’s wife, and Soma the wife of Brihaspati, where were you then? Men are skilled at advising others; a man who both advises and does is rare. Let that Devi come to me; that is your great good, and she too will have great happiness. Otherwise I will never be satisfied. By courtesy or by force, bring her to me quickly.” The frightened gods and munis promised to bring Indrani by conciliation, and went with joined palms to Brihaspati’s house: Indrani must be given to Nahusha that day, since he had been made Vasava. “I will never abandon the chaste Pauloma’s daughter who has come to me for refuge,” Brihaspati said. Then some other means must be found to please the king, the gods said, and the guru found it. Let Shachi go to him herself, beguile him with her words, and pledge that she would accept him only after she knew her husband to be dead, for while Indra lived how could she make another her husband; and having deceived the king with that pledge, let her set about bringing her husband back. So all the gods, Brihaspati in front, went with Indra’s wife to Nahusha. The makeshift Vasava was delighted at the sight of her. “Today I am Vasava. Accept me as your husband. The gods have made me the one the whole world worships.” Ashamed and trembling, she said, “I wish a boon from you. Wait some time, until I decide whether my husband Indra is alive or dead; that doubt is in my heart. After I have decided, I will present myself in your service. Till then forgive me; I speak the truth.” Nahusha was pleased. “So be it,” he said, and gladly let her go, and the chaste one went quickly to the gods and told them to exert themselves that day and bring Indra back.
The gods took her words to heart and deliberated with one mind, and then they went to Vaikuntha, praised the supreme lord, Adideva, Jagannatha, kind to all who seek refuge, and told him their distress. “Indra, tormented by brahmahatya, stays somewhere invisible to every being. The Brahmin was killed on your counsel; how then is there brahmahatya at all? You are his only refuge and ours. Save us in this great distress, and point out his release.” Vishnu heard their piteous words. “To remove Indra’s sin, sacrifice with an Ashvamedha. Purified by its merit, Indra will gain the Indra-ship of the gods again, with no fear from anywhere. Pleased by the horse-sacrifice, Devi Shri Jagadambika will surely destroy sins like brahmahatya; by her mere remembrance the net of sins is cut, so what of a horse-sacrifice done for her pleasure! Let Indrani also worship Bhagavati every day. And Nahusha, deluded by the maya of the World-Mother, will soon perish by his own sin.” The gods went at once to the place where Indra was. Led by Brihaspati, they reassured him and had the whole great Ashvamedha performed. Then the lord divided the brahmahatya and threw its portions on the trees, the rivers, the mountains, the earth and women. Released among beings, it left Indra sinless. Freed of his fever, Indra nevertheless stayed where he was, in the water, inside the lotus stalk, invisible to all beings, waiting for a good time.
The gods, their wonderful work done, went to their places, and Shachi, grieved and distraught with separation, asked the guru why, with the sacrifice done, her husband Purandara was still invisible, and how she was to see him. “Worship Devi Bhagavati Shiva,” Brihaspati said. “The Devi will show you your lord, free of sin. Worshiped, Jagaddhatri will restrain Nahusha; Ambika will delude the king and make him fall from his place.” Shachi received from the guru the Devi’s mantra with its method of worship, and having the vidya she worshiped Bhagavati Shri Bhuvaneshvari with bali, flowers and auspicious offerings; longing to see her beloved, she gave up every other enjoyment, put on the dress of a woman ascetic, and worshiped. After some time the Devi, pleased, gave her darshan in visible form: the giver of boons, riding her swan; bright as ten million suns, cool as ten million moons, radiant as ten million lightnings; the noose, the goad and the gestures of fearlessness and boon in her four arms; a garland of clear pearls hanging to her feet; smiling, three-eyed; mother of all, from Brahma down to the worm; an ocean of the amrita of compassion; mistress of endless crores of brahmandas. In a voice deep as a cloud she spoke to the striving wife of Indra. “Ask your desired boon. Well worshiped by you, I am very pleased. My darshan is not easy; it is gained only by heaps of merit from many crores of births.” Shachi bowed. “Mother, I want the very rare sight of my husband, the end of my fear of Nahusha, and our own position regained.” “Go with this duti of mine to the Manasa lake,” the Devi said, “where my immovable image named Vishvakama is installed. There you will see Indra, sorrowful and overcome by fear. After some time I will delude the king again and make him fall from the seat of the gods.” The Devi’s messenger took Indra’s wife quickly to her husband, and seeing the king of the gods in his hiding place, with the wish she had carried so long fulfilled, Shachi was overjoyed.
Serpent, Serpent
Indra saw his wide-eyed, grieving wife there in that private place and was astonished. “How did you come here? How did you know of me? I live here unknown to every being.” “By the grace of the Devi Bhagavati you are known to me today, and by her grace again I have found you.” Then she told him: the gods and the munis had set the royal sage Nahusha on his seat, and the sinner troubled her every day, demanding that she make him her husband. What was she to do? Indra told her to make her mind firm and wait for the time, as he was waiting. She sighed, trembling and very sad. How was she to stay? That sinner, drunk with the pride of his boon, would bring her under his control; the gods and munis, afraid of him, had told her to accept him; Brihaspati was a Brahmin with no force at his command and always followed the gods. She was a woman in another’s power, a pativrata who thought only of her husband, and there was no refuge there to protect her. “I tell you a means,” Indra said, “and by it your shila, your own conduct, will be protected in this hard time; only her own shila protects a woman from sin, so rely on it and be firm. When the wicked king Nahusha tries to take you by force, make a secret pledge and deceive him. Go to him in private and say, Come to me in a divine vehicle carried by rishis; then I will lovingly be in your power; this is my vow. Deluded and blind with lust, the king will yoke munis to his vehicle, and the ascetics will surely burn him with a curse. One who remembers Jagadamba’s feet never meets danger, and if danger comes, know it is for one’s own good. So, as the guru Brihaspati told you, worship with all your effort Bhagavati Bhuvaneshvari, who dwells in Manidvipa.”
“So be it,” Shachi said, and fully confident, intent on the task ahead, she went to Nahusha. He was glad to see her; by her truthful words, he said, he had become her servant; let her put bashfulness aside, accept her devotee, and tell him her wish. “You have done all my work,” Shachi said to the makeshift Indra. “Now I have a wish in my heart. Fulfill it, and after that I will be in your power. How shall I tell it, though? I have no trust in you. Swear that you will do what pleases me, for truthful kings are rare on this earth.” “I will surely do your word,” Nahusha said. “I swear it by the merit gathered from my sacrifices and my gifts.” Then Shachi told him. “Indra’s vehicles are horses, the elephant and the chariot. Vasudeva’s is Garuda; Yama’s is the buffalo; Shankara’s the bull; Brahma’s the swan; Kartikeya’s the peacock; the elephant-faced one’s the mouse. I want for you a vehicle no one has had before, one that neither Vishnu nor Rudra nor the asuras nor the rakshasas possess. Let all the munis firm in their vows carry you in a palanquin; that is my wish. I know you to be greater than all the gods, and so I wish for the increase of your splendor.”
The king was weak in wisdom, and in that moment Mahadevi’s delusion lay over him. He laughed, and praised Indra’s beloved. “You have spoken truly; this vehicle pleases me too. He is no man of small valor who makes munis his bearers. The Saptarshis and all the devarshis will carry me, knowing me able in the three worlds and the greatest in tapas.” Well satisfied, he sent her away and summoned all the munis. “Today I am Indra, endowed with all powers. Put pride aside and do my work. Indrani has not come to me; when I summoned her she said lovingly, Come to me in a vehicle carried by munis. This work of mine is very hard, and you, being merciful, must do it. Desire burns my mind; you are my refuge today.” The chief rishis, Agastya at their head, heard his disrespectful words, and because of what was to be they accepted them, out of compassion. Nahusha, his mind fixed on Pauloma’s daughter, was very glad. He mounted a beautiful palanquin at once, made the divine munis its bearers, and kept crying “Sarpa, sarpa,” move, move, to hurry them on.
Blind with love, the fool touched with his foot the head of Agastya, best of ascetics, husband of Lopamudra, the muni who had eaten Vatapi and drunk the ocean dry. Struck by Kama’s arrows, his mind seized by Indrani, saying sarpa to the muni, he struck him with his whip as well. The muni’s anger rose, and remembering the blow of the whip, he cursed him. “Become a huge serpent of terrible body in the forest. There you will wander many thousands of years in great suffering, and by your own power you will regain heaven again. When you see the son of Dharma named Yudhishthira and hear from his mouth the answers to your questions, your release will come.”
Cursed so, the royal sage Nahusha praised that best of munis, and in the same moment fell from heaven and took the form of a serpent. Brihaspati went quickly to Manasa and told Indra the whole story in detail. Indra was glad to hear of the king’s fall, and still he stayed where he was. The gods and the munis saw Nahusha fallen to earth and went to the lake where Indra lay. They reassured Shachi’s husband and brought him to heaven with honor; when he came, all the munis and the gods set him on the throne and performed his abhisheka. With his post regained, Indra sported with his loving Shachi in the palaces of the gods and in lovely Nandana.
So, Vyasa told Janamejaya, for the killing of the great muni Vishvarupa, who could take any form, and of the asura Vritra, Indra suffered very terrible sorrow, and by the Devi’s grace he regained his place. That was the whole of the excellent story built on the killing of Vritrasura that the king had asked for. As one acts, so is the fruit one gets; the fruit of good and bad deeds done must surely be eaten.
Source: Shrimad Devi Bhagavata Mahapurana (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)