Mahabharata · Chapter 13a · Part 2 of 3 · From the Payoshni to Yavakrita: Chyavana and Sukanya, Mandhata, Shibi, Ashtavakra

About 75 minutes

On the Payoshni: Gaya’s seven sacrifices, and the sapphire hill above the Narmada

King, said Lomasha, when Nriga performed a sacrifice here, he gratified Indra, the demolisher of hostile cities, with soma, and Indra was refreshed and greatly pleased. Here the gods with Indra, and the protectors of all born beings, celebrated sacrifices of every kind on a great scale and paid abundant fees to the officiating priests. Here king Amurtarayasa, lord of the world, satisfied the wielder of the thunderbolt with soma when he performed seven horse sacrifices. The things that in other rites are made of timber and earth were in his seven sacrifices made of gold. It is said that he prepared seven sets of stakes, rings for the stakes, spoons, ladles, and vessels, and that seven rings were fastened at the top of every stake, and, Yudhishthira, the celestials with Indra erected with their own hands the stakes of shining gold made for his rites. In all those magnificent sacrifices instituted by Gaya, protector of the earth, Indra was delighted with the soma and the priests were gratified with their fees. The priests received wealth counted out to them beyond telling. As no one can count the grains of sand on the earth, or the stars in the sky, or the drops of rain when it rains, so no one could count in figures the wealth Gaya gave away; the things I have named might be counted, but the fees he bestowed, larger than anything known before, were beyond any number. The sculptor of the gods made images of the goddess of speech in gold, and the king gratified the members of the priestly order who came from every quarter by presenting them with those golden images. When the great-souled Gaya performed his rites he raised sacrificial piles in so many places that little room was left on the face of the earth. By that sacred act he attained the regions of Indra. Whoever bathes in the river Payoshni goes to the regions Gaya attained. So bathe in this river, lord of kings, unswerving prince, you and your brothers, and you will be freed from all your sins.

Vaishampayana said: Yudhishthira and his brothers bathed in the Payoshni. Then, sinless prince, the powerful monarch went with his brothers to the hill of sapphires and the great river Narmada. The blessed Lomasha named for him every delightful holy spot and every sacred shrine of the celestials, and the king visited them with his brothers as he wished and as was convenient, and at place after place Brahmins by the thousand received gifts from him. Son of Kunti, Lomasha said, whoever visits the sapphire hill and plunges into the Narmada attains the regions of the celestials and of kings. Best of men, this is the junction between the Treta and the Kali age, the period in which a person is rid of all his sins. Respected sir, this is the spot where Sharyati performed his rites, at which Indra appeared in visible form and drank soma with the two celestial physicians. And Bhrigu’s son of severe austerity conceived anger against the great Indra; the mighty Chyavana paralyzed Indra, and for his wife he obtained the princess Sukanya. Yudhishthira asked at once. How was the chastiser of the demon Paka, the god of the six attributes, paralyzed by Chyavana? For what reason did the great sage conceive wrath against Indra? And how, Brahmin, did he raise the Ashvins to the soma?

A key to reading this (places and numbers): The Payoshni is a river of Vidarbha, the modern Purna or Painganga, which joins the Tapti. The sapphire hill, Vaidurya, is the Satpura range from which the Narmada comes down; vaidurya means cat’s-eye or beryl, and the name is the hill’s blue stone. Where Lomasha says “the junction of the Treta and the Kali age,” the story will a little later say “of the Dwapara and the Treta”; in the tradition the Dwapara age ends with the Mahabharata war, so the Pandavas are traveling on the eve of a turning of the ages. Gaya and Amurtarayasa are one king under two names (Gaya was Amurtarayasa’s son), and his sacrifices lie at the root of the pilgrimage city of Gaya.

The gist: The road turns inland, from Prabhasa to the Payoshni and then to the Narmada. Lomasha recites the sacrifices of ancient kings in a way that defeats counting. And on this bank of the Narmada begins the story in which an old sage stops the arm of Indra.

Chyavana in the anthill, and Sukanya’s two thorns

A son was born to the great sage Bhrigu, Lomasha said, named Chyavana, and he of the resplendent form began to practice austerity beside that lake there. He took the posture called the hero’s, quiet and still as an inanimate post, and for a long time he remained on the same patch of ground. So long that he became an anthill, covered with creepers. Swarms of ants enveloped him, and covered with ants the sagacious sage looked exactly like a heap of earth, and inside that heap he went on with his austerities. After a long time the king Sharyati came for amusement to this pleasant and excellent lake, and with him, son of Bharata’s race, came four thousand women whom he had married, and his only daughter, Sukanya of the beautiful brows. She wandered about with her maids, decked with jewels fit for a goddess, and came near the anthill where Bhrigu’s son sat. She was handsome and in the prime of her youth, amorous and bent on frolic, and she amused herself looking at the beautiful scenery and the tall trees of the wood and breaking the flowering twigs of the forest. Bhrigu’s son saw her, wandering like lightning, away from her maids, wearing a single piece of cloth and her ornaments, and seeing her alone in the forest, that ascetic of exceeding effulgence was inspired with desire. He called to her, the regenerate sage with his ascetic energy, in a low voice, and she did not hear. Then Sukanya saw the eyes of Bhrigu’s son looking out of the anthill, and out of curiosity, her sense lost, she said, what is this? And she pierced the eyes with thorns.

He felt exceeding pain and became wrathful, and his anger found the king’s army. He obstructed the calls of nature of Sharyati’s forces, and the men were greatly afflicted. The king saw the state of things and asked, who is it that has done wrong to the illustrious son of Bhrigu, old, forever engaged in austerity, and of wrathful temper? Tell me quickly if you know it. The soldiers said they did not know whether anyone had wronged the sage; let the king inquire as he saw fit. The ruler of the earth questioned his friends, using menace and conciliation as the occasion required, and they knew nothing either. Then Sukanya, seeing the army in distress and her father aggrieved, told the truth. Roving in the forest I came on some brilliant substance in the anthill here; I took it for a glowworm and went near and pierced it with thorns. Sharyati went straight to the anthill and saw Bhrigu’s son, old in years and old in austerity, and with joined hands he begged: forgive what my daughter through ignorance and greenness has done to you. Chyavana named his price. Disregarding me, this one, filled with pride, has pierced my eyes. Even her, king, endowed with beauty and bereft of her senses by ignorance and temptation, even your daughter I would have for my bride. I tell you truly, on this condition alone will I forgive you.

Sharyati did not pause. He bestowed his daughter on the high-souled Chyavana. Receiving the girl’s hand, the holy one was pleased with the king, and having won the sage’s grace, the king went back to his city with his troops. And the faultless Sukanya, having got that ascetic for a husband, began to tend him, practicing penance and observing the ordinances. That one of the graceful countenance, free of guile, worshiped Chyavana, and served the guests, and kept the sacred fire.

The gist: A sage sits so still that he becomes an anthill; a princess sees two points of light in the mound, takes them for glowworms, and puts thorns through them. His anger falls on an army, and the price of his forgiveness is the girl. The epic makes no one beautiful here: an old man’s desire and a girl’s carelessness are left exactly as they are. Sukanya’s service begins after this, and it is the center of everything that follows.

Three identical young men rise from the lake: Sukanya chooses, and the Ashvins are promised the soma

Once, king, Lomasha said, the twin Ashvins, celestials, happened to see Sukanya just after she had bathed, when her body was bare. She was beautiful of limb, like the daughter of the lord of celestials, and the nose-born Ashvins came near and said: you of the shapely thighs, whose daughter are you, and what are you doing in this wood? Auspicious one, we wish to know; tell us. She answered bashfully: know me as Sharyati’s daughter and Chyavana’s wife. The Ashvins smiled. Why, fortunate one, has your father given you to a man on the verge of death? You shine in this wood like lightning, timid girl. Not even in the regions of the celestials have our eyes fallen on your like. Unadorned, without gay robes, you beautify this wood exceedingly, and yet, faultless one, soiled with mud and dirt as you are, you cannot look as beautiful as you would in every ornament and gorgeous apparel. Why, in such a plight, do you serve a decrepit old husband who can no longer feel pleasure or maintain you, you of the luminous smiles? Divinely beautiful girl, forsake Chyavana and take one of us. It does not become you to spend your youth for nothing.

Her answer was a sentence. I am devoted to my husband Chyavana; do not entertain any doubts about me. They pressed her with a proposition instead. We two are the celebrated physicians of the celestials. We will make your lord young and graceful. Then choose one of us three, ourselves and your husband, for your partner. Promise this, auspicious one, and bring your husband here. She went to Bhrigu’s son and told him what the two celestials had said, and Chyavana said, do it. With her lord’s permission she went back and said, do it. Then they told the king’s daughter: let your husband enter the water. Chyavana, desiring beauty, went quickly into the lake, and the Ashvins went in after him, and the next moment all three came out of the tank in surpassingly beautiful forms, young, wearing burnished earrings, all of the same appearance and pleasing to look at, and they said to her: fortunate one, choose one of us for a spouse; beautiful one, take for lord the one who pleases your fancy. She looked at three identical men and deliberated. And in the end she ascertained which was her husband, and chose him.

Chyavana had his beauty and his wife, and his gratitude took the form of a promise that would bring him into conflict with heaven. Since at your hands, he told the nose-born celestials, I, an old man, have obtained youth and beauty and this wife of mine, I will, well pleased, make you quaffers of the soma juice in the presence of the lord of celestials himself. This I tell you truly. The twins were delighted and rose to heaven, and Chyavana and Sukanya passed their days happily, like celestials themselves.

A key to reading this (names): The Ashvins are the twin physicians of the gods, sons of the sun and Sanjna, born when she took the form of a mare; “nose-born,” Nasatya, is their Vedic name. In the assembly of the gods they had no right to the soma, the sacred drink, because as healers they were counted servants. Chyavana’s vow is aimed straight at that rule, and at Indra, who enforces it.

The gist: The gods’ offer is open: leave your old husband for one of us. Sukanya’s answer takes one sentence. Then the test gets harder, three identical youths out of the same water, and she recognizes her husband anyway. Chyavana pays for that recognition with a vow that challenges the king of heaven.

Sharyati’s sacrifice, the frozen arm of Indra, and a demon named Mada

Word reached Sharyati that Chyavana had become a youth, and he came with his troops to the hermitage of Bhrigu’s son and saw Chyavana and Sukanya like two children of the gods, and his joy and his wife’s were as great as if he had conquered the whole world. The sage received the king and queen with honor, and the king sat by the ascetic and talked of auspicious things, and then Chyavana told him something soothing: I will officiate, king, at a religious ceremony to be performed by you; let the requisite articles be procured. Sharyati was at the height of happiness and approved. On an auspicious day fit for the beginning of a sacrifice he ordered a sacrificial enclosure built, excellent and splendidly furnished with everything desirable, and Chyavana served him there as priest. Now hear, Lomasha said, the wonderful things that happened at that place. Chyavana took up a quantity of soma to offer to the Ashvins, and while he was raising the offering to the celestial twins, Indra forbade it. These two Ashvins, in my opinion, have no right to an offering of soma. They are the physicians of the celestials, and that vocation has disqualified them. Chyavana answered him. These two are of mighty enterprise and mighty soul, uncommonly endowed with beauty and grace, and they have made me, Indra, eternally young, like a celestial. Why should you and the other gods have a right to the soma and they not? Lord of the celestials, demolisher of hostile towns, know that the Ashvins also rank as gods. Indra said: these two practice the healing art; they are servants. They take what forms they please and roam about the world of mortals. How can they rightfully claim the soma?

The lord of the celestials said the same thing again and again, and Bhrigu’s son, setting Indra at nothing, took up the offering. As he raised an excellent portion of soma to offer to the two Ashvins, the destroyer of Vala saw him and said: if you take up that soma to offer it to those celestials, I will hurl my thunderbolt at you, awful in form, superior to every weapon that exists. Chyavana cast a smiling glance at Indra and took up, in due form, a goodly quantity of soma for the Ashvins. Shachi’s lord hurled the thunderbolt. And as he was in the act of launching it, his arm was paralyzed by Bhrigu’s son. With Indra’s arm frozen in the air, Chyavana recited the sacred hymns and made the offering on the fire. His object gained, he turned to the destruction of that god. From the sage’s ascetic energy an evil spirit came into being, a huge demon named Mada, of great strength and gigantic proportions. His body could not be measured by demons or by gods. His mouth was terrible and huge, his teeth sharp-edged; one of his jaws rested on the earth and the other stretched to heaven. He had four fangs, each a hundred yojanas long, and other fangs of ten yojanas, shaped like the towers of a palace and like the points of spears. His arms were like hills, ten thousand yojanas long and of equal bulk. His eyes were the sun and the moon and his face was the conflagration at the end of the world. He licked his mouth with a tongue that never rested, like lightning. His mouth was open, his glance was frightful, and he seemed about to swallow the world by force. He rushed at the god of a hundred sacrifices to devour him, and the world rang with his roaring.

Indra saw the demon coming at him with open mouth, looking like death itself, and found his own arms still paralyzed, and in his fear he licked the corners of his mouth again and again. Tortured with fright, the lord of the celestials said to Chyavana: son of Bhrigu, Brahmin, I tell you as truth itself that from this day forward the two Ashvins will be entitled to the soma. Be merciful to me. My undertaking can never come to nothing; let this be the rule. And I know, sage of the priestly order, that your work can never come to nothing either. These two Ashvins will have the right to drink the soma, since you have made them entitled to it. And, son of Bhrigu, I did all this only to spread the fame of your powers, to give you an occasion for displaying them; and my other object was that the fame of this Sukanya’s father might spread everywhere. So be merciful to me; let it be as you wish. Chyavana’s wrath was quickly appeased and he set the demolisher of hostile cities free. And the powerful sage distributed Mada, which means intoxication, and put him piecemeal into drink, into women, into gambling, and into hunting, the same Mada who had been created many times before. Having thus cast down the demon Mada and gratified Indra with a draught of soma, and helped king Sharyati worship all the gods together with the two Ashvins, and spread the fame of his power over all the worlds, the best of those endowed with speech passed his days happily in the wood with Sukanya, his loving wife.

This is his lake, king, Lomasha said, shining and resounding with the voices of birds. Here, with your brothers, offer water to your forefathers and the gods. Having visited it and Sikataksha, you will go to the Saindhava wood and see a number of small artificial rivers, and touch the waters of all the holy lakes, and reciting the hymns of the god Sthanu, meet with success in every undertaking. For this is the junction, best of men, of the two ages Dwapara and Treta, a time capable of destroying all the sins of a person. Perform your ablutions here, for the spot removes all sins. That is the Archika hill, a dwelling place for men of cultured minds; fruits of all the seasons grow here at all times and the streams run forever, an excellent place fit for the celestials, with holy cairns of many shapes set up by the gods. This, Yudhishthira, is the bathing place of the moon. Sages attend here on every side, forest dwellers and the Valakhilyas and the Pavakas who live on air alone. These are three peaks and three springs; walk around them one by one and then wash as you please. Shantanu and Shunaka, sovereign of men, and both Nara and Narayana attained everlasting regions from this place. Here the gods constantly lay down, and the forefathers, with the mighty sages; on this Archika hill they all carried on austerities. Sacrifice to them, Yudhishthira. Here they and the sages ate rice cooked in milk. And here is the Yamuna of the inexhaustible spring; here Krishna lived a life of penance, son of Pandu. You who drag the corpses of your foes, the twins and Bhimasena and Krishna and all of us will accompany you to this spot. Lord of men, this is the holy spring of Indra. Here the creative and the dispensing deity, and Varuna also, rose upward, and here they dwelt, observing forbearance and possessed of the highest faith. This excellent and propitious hill is fit for persons of a kindly and candid disposition. This is that celebrated Yamuna, frequented by hosts of mighty sages, the scene of many rites, holy, destructive of the dread of sin. Here Mandhata himself of the mighty bow sacrificed to the gods, and so did Somaka, son of Kunti, the son of Sahadeva and a most excellent giver of gifts.

A key to reading this (numbers, a modern equivalent): Mada’s fangs of a hundred yojanas and arms of ten thousand: at eight miles to the yojana, fangs eight hundred miles long and arms three times the circumference of the earth. The image is the point: intoxication is the thing even the gods cannot measure. Chyavana does not kill it; he divides it, and it settles in four places, drink, women, dice, and the hunt. The Mahabharata is quietly commenting on itself here, since a game of dice cost these listeners their kingdom.

The gist: At the sacrifice Chyavana raises the soma for the Ashvins under Indra’s eyes. The thunderbolt comes up, the arm freezes, and a demon born of austerity moves to swallow the king of heaven. Indra yields and dresses his defeat as a scheme to spread the sage’s fame; the epic records that cleverness too. Then Lomasha counts off the tirthas of the Yamuna, where the next two stories, Mandhata and Somaka, are waiting.

Mandhata: the king born from his father’s side and nursed on Indra’s finger

Great Brahmin, Yudhishthira asked, how was Mandhata born, that tiger among kings, Yuvanashva’s son, the best of monarchs, celebrated over the three worlds? How did he of the unmeasured luster reach the very summit of real power, so that all three worlds were as much under him as under the great-souled Vishnu? I want to hear all of it, the life and the achievements of that sagacious king, and how his name Mandhata arose, since he rivaled Indra himself in luster, and how he of unrivaled strength came to be born; for you are skilled in narrating events.

Hear attentively, king, Lomasha said, how the name of that great-souled king came to be celebrated through all the worlds. Yuvanashva, ruler of the earth, was born of Ikshvaku’s race. He performed many sacrifices noted for their magnificent gifts, and that most excellent of virtuous men performed the horse sacrifice a thousand times and other sacrifices of the highest order, with abundant gifts, and that saintly king had no son. He of the mighty soul and rigid vows handed the duties of state to his ministers and became a constant dweller in the woods, devoted to the pursuits the scriptures enjoin. And once, king, that protector of men had kept a fast. He was suffering the pangs of hunger and his inner soul seemed parched with thirst, and in that state he walked into the hermitage of Bhrigu. On that very night the great sage, the delight of Bhrigu’s race, had performed a rite whose purpose was that a son might be born to Saudyumni. On the altar stood a large jar filled with water consecrated by sacred hymns, and the water had this virtue, that the wife of Saudyumni, by drinking it, would bring forth a godlike son. The sages had set the jar on the altar and gone to sleep, worn out by keeping the night. Saudyumni passed by them with a dry palate, suffering greatly from thirst, badly in need of water. He came into the hermitage and asked for a drink, and being weary, he called in a feeble voice out of a parched throat, like the weak indistinct sound of a bird, and his voice reached no one’s ears. Then he saw the jar full of water. He ran to it, drank, and set it down. The water was cool and he had been very thirsty, and the drink relieved the sagacious king and appeased his thirst.

Then the sages woke, and the sage of ascetic wealth with them, and they all saw that the water of the jar was gone. They met together and began to ask who could have done it, and Yuvanashva admitted truthfully that it was he. The revered son of Bhrigu said to him: it was not proper. That water had an occult virtue infused into it and had been placed there so that a son might be born to you. Having performed severe austerities I infused the virtue of my religious acts into that water, so that a son might be born to you, saintly king of mighty valor and physical strength, a son of exceeding strength and valor, fortified by austerities, who would send even Indra by his bravery to the abode of the god of death. That is how this water was prepared by me. By drinking it, king, you have done what was not at all right. But it is impossible now to turn back the accident that has happened. Surely what you did was the decree of fate. Since you, great king, being thirsty, have drunk water prepared with sacred hymns and filled with the virtue of my religious labors, you must bring forth out of your own body a son of the character I have described. To that end we will perform a sacrifice for you of wonderful effect, so that, valorous as you are, you may bring forth a son equal to Indra, and you will suffer no trouble from the pains of labor.

When a hundred years had passed, a son shining like the sun pierced the left side of the great-souled king and came forth, possessed of mighty strength; and Yuvanashva did not die, which was itself a wonder. Then the mighty Indra came to visit him, and the deities asked the great Indra, what is this boy to suck? Indra put his own forefinger into the child’s mouth, and when the wielder of the thunderbolt said, he will suck me, the dwellers of heaven with Indra named the boy Mandhata, which is to say, me he shall suck. Having tasted the finger Indra held out to him, the boy grew mighty, and he grew thirteen cubits, king. And the whole of sacred learning together with the holy science of arms came to that masterful boy by the simple, unassisted power of his own thought. All at once, on the same day, the bow celebrated as Ajagava, and a number of shafts made of horn, and an impenetrable coat of mail came into his possession. Indra himself placed him on the throne, and he conquered the three worlds in a righteous way, as Vishnu did with his three strides. The wheel of that king’s chariot was irresistible in its course, and gems came to him of their own accord. This is the tract of land that belonged to him, lord of earth; it abounds in wealth. He performed sacrifices of many kinds with abundant fees to the priests; he raised sacred piles and did splendid pious deeds and attained the seat at Indra’s side. That sagacious king of unswerving piety sent out his decree and by its virtue alone conquered the earth together with the sea, the source of gems, and all the cities of the earth. The sacrificial grounds he prepared were to be found over the whole earth on every side; there was not a single spot without one. The mighty monarch is said to have given the Brahmins ten thousand padmas of cows. When there was a drought that lasted twelve years in a row, that mighty king made rain fall for the growth of the crops, paying no heed to Indra, the wielder of the thunderbolt, who stood staring at him. The mighty ruler of the Gandhara country, born of the lunar dynasty of kings, terrible as a roaring cloud, was killed by him, wounded sorely with his shafts. He of the cultured soul protected the four orders of the people, and by his mighty force the worlds were kept from harm, by virtue of his austere and righteous life. This is the spot where he, lustrous as the sun, sacrificed to the god. Look at it. Here it is, in the middle of the field of the Kurus, in the holiest of all tracts. Preceptor of the earth, at your request I have narrated the great life of Mandhata, and how he was born, which was a birth of an extraordinary kind.

Vaishampayana said: thus addressed by the mighty sage Lomasha, Kunti’s son immediately put fresh questions about Somaka.

A key to reading this (names and numbers): Saudyumni, “descendant of Sudyumna,” is another name for Yuvanashva. Mam dhata, “me he shall suck,” is the pun that yields Mandhata; Indra’s finger is his first food, which is why this king is Indra’s nursling and can later make rain without asking Indra’s leave. A cubit is about eighteen inches, so thirteen cubits is close to twenty feet, the story’s way of saying the boy was beyond human measure from birth. A padma is a one followed by fifteen zeros; ten thousand padmas of cows is a picture of gift beyond limit, and nobody is meant to do the arithmetic.

The gist: A thirsty king drinks the water consecrated for his queen and a hundred years later bears the son himself, out of his left side, and lives. Indra gives the child a finger and a name. That king conquers the three worlds by righteousness, makes it rain through a twelve-year drought while Indra stands watching, and leaves an altar on every patch of the earth. The exact center of Kurukshetra is his.

Somaka and Jantu: the price of a hundred sons, and a king who chose hell with his priest

Best of speakers, Yudhishthira asked, how great was the power and strength of king Somaka? I want an exact account of his deeds and his power. There was a virtuous king named Somaka, Lomasha said. He had a hundred wives, all suitably matched to their husband, and with great care he could not get a single son from any of them, and a long time passed while he remained a sonless man. When he had grown old and was trying every means, a son was born to him, Jantu, out of that century of women. All the mothers would sit around their one boy, each giving him whatever might add to his enjoyment. And one day an ant stung the boy on the hip. He screamed at the pain, and the mothers, seeing how the child had been stung, were beyond distress; they stood around him and cried out, and a tumult rose. That scream of pain reached the king where he sat among his ministers with the family priest beside him. He sent to learn what it was; the usher explained precisely what had happened to his son; and Somaka got up with his ministers and hurried to the women’s quarters and soothed the boy, and came out, and sat down again with his priest and his ministers.

What he said next was the reasoning of a man who has just watched a hundred women scream over an ant bite. Shame on having a single son. I had rather be sonless. Considering how liable all creatures are to disease, an only son is nothing but trouble. Brahmin, my lord, so that many sons might be born to me I married these hundred wives, after inspection, after satisfying myself they were suitable. And they have no issue. After every effort they have borne this one son, Jantu. What grief is greater than this? I have grown old, and my wives are old too, and this one son is the breath of their nostrils, and of mine. Is there any ceremony by which a man may get a hundred sons? Tell me whether it is great or small, easy or difficult. The priest said there was such a rite, and that he would explain it if the king could perform it. Somaka answered before he heard it. Whether it be a good deed or an evil one, the ceremony by which a hundred sons may be born you may take as already performed. Let your blessed self explain it. The priest explained. King, let me set on foot a sacrifice, and you must sacrifice your son Jantu in it. Then in no long time a hundred handsome sons will be born to you. When Jantu’s fat is put into the fire as an offering to the gods, the mothers will smell the smoke and bring forth many sons, valorous and strong. And Jantu himself will be born again as your self-begotten son in that very mother, and on his back there will be a mark of gold. Somaka said, Brahmin, whatever is to be done, do precisely as necessary. Desiring many sons, I will do everything you prescribe.

The priest officiated at the sacrifice in which Jantu was the victim. The mothers, in pity, tried to snatch the boy away by force, crying, we are undone; smitten with torturing grief they seized Jantu by the right hand and wept piteously. The priest held the boy by the same right hand and pulled. They screamed like ospreys in agony, and the priest dragged the son away, killed him, and made a burnt offering of his fat in proper form. And as the fat was offered, the agonized mothers smelled it and suddenly fell to the ground in a swoon. And all those lovely women conceived, and when ten months had passed a full hundred sons were born to Somaka by them. Jantu was the eldest, born of his former mother, and he was more beloved of the women than their own sons; on his back was the mark of gold, and of the hundred he was superior in merit as well. Then Somaka’s family priest departed this life, and after a time Somaka did too. And he saw that the priest was being grilled in a terrible hell. Why, Brahmin, are you being grilled in this hell? he asked. And the priest, scorched with fire, said: this is the outcome of my having officiated at that sacrifice of yours. The saintly king turned to the god who metes out punishment to departed souls. I shall enter here. Set my priest free. This reverend man is being grilled by hellfire on my account alone. Dharmaraja answered him: one cannot enjoy or suffer for another person’s acts. Best of speakers, these are the fruits of your acts; see them here. And Somaka said: without this Brahmin I do not want the blessed regions. My wish is to live with this man, in the abode of the gods or in hell, for my deed, Dharmaraja, is identical with his, and the fruit of our virtue or our evil must be the same for both of us. If that is your wish, king, said Dharmaraja, then taste with him the fruit of that act for the same period he must, and after that you shall go to the blessed regions.

The lotus-eyed king did exactly as he was told, and when his sins were worked off, he was set free together with the priest. Loving the priest as he did, he won all the blessings his merit entitled him to and shared everything with him. This is his hermitage, Lomasha said, which looks so lovely before our eyes. Anyone who spends six nights here controlling his passions attains the blessed regions. King of kings, leader of the Kurus, here we must spend six nights, free of excitement and self-controlled. Be ready for it.

A key to reading this (a hard story): This tale is deliberately uncomfortable. The king says “good deed or evil” before he hears the rite; the epic hides neither the sacrifice nor the mothers’ screams. And it ends in hell, where Dharmaraja’s law is exact: no one bears another’s fruit. What redeems the story is Somaka’s answer. He cannot take his priest’s punishment, so he keeps his priest company in it. Vyasa neither justifies the sacrifice nor belittles that loyalty. Dharmaraja here is Yama, judge of the dead, not Yudhishthira, who carries the same title.

The gist: A scream over an ant bite teaches a king that an only son is a fear. For a hundred sons he sacrifices the one; Jantu comes back with gold on his back. But the fruit does not go away: the priest is in hell, and the king sits in hell beside him and pays his share.

The threshold of Kurukshetra: Yayati’s altars, the vanishing of the Sarasvati, and a gaze that reaches to Kashmir

Here, king, Lomasha said, the lord of born beings himself performed in former times the sacrifice called Ishtikrita, which occupied a thousand years. And Ambarisha, son of Nabhaga, sacrificed near the Yamuna and gave the attendant priests ten padmas of gold coins, and obtained the highest success by his sacrifices and austerities. Son of Kunti, this is the spot where the sovereign of the whole earth, Nahusha’s son Yayati of unmeasured force and holy life, performed his rites; he competed with Indra and sacrificed here. See how the ground is studded with places for sacrificial fires of every shape, and how the earth seems to subside here under the pressure of Yayati’s pious works. This is the shami tree with its single leaf, and this is a most excellent lake. Look at these lakes of Parashurama, and the hermitage of Narayana. This is the path Richika’s son of unmeasured energy followed as he roamed the earth, practicing yoga in the river Raupya. And hear, delight of the Kurus, what a Pishacha woman, decked with pestles for ornaments, said to a Brahmin woman as I was reciting the genealogies here. Having eaten curd in Yugandhara, and lived in Achyutasthala, and bathed in Bhutilaya, you should live with your sons. Having passed one night here, if you spend a second, the events of the night will differ from what happened to you by day. Most righteous of Bharata’s race, today we spend the night at this very spot. This is the threshold of the field of the Kurus. Here Yayati sacrificed and gave away an abundance of gems, and Indra was pleased with those rites. This is the excellent holy bathing place on the Yamuna called Plakshavatarana, the descent of the banyan; men of cultured minds call it the entrance to heaven. Here, having performed the rites of the Sarasvata king, and using the sacrificial stake for their pestle, the highest order of sages performed the holy plunge prescribed at the end of a sacred ceremony. King Bharata sacrificed here; to celebrate the horse sacrifice he set the victim free at this spot, having won the sovereignty of the earth by righteousness, and the horses he let go more than once were checkered with black. Here Marutta, sheltered by Samvarta, leader of sages, succeeded in performing excellent sacrifices. Whoever bathes here beholds all the worlds and is purified of his evil deeds. Bathe here, then.

The best of Pandu’s sons bathed there with his brothers while the mighty sages uttered words of praise, and something happened to his sight again. You whose strength lies in truthfulness, he said to Lomasha, by virtue of this pious act I behold all the worlds. And from this place I behold the most praiseworthy of Pandu’s sons, Arjuna, the rider of the white steed. It is even so, said Lomasha, mighty-armed one; sages of the highest order see all the regions in this way. Behold this holy Sarasvati, thronged by those who look on her as their only refuge. Having bathed here, best of men, you will be free of all your sins. Here the celestial sages performed the rites of the Sarasvata king, and so did the sages and the royal sages. This is the altar of the lord of beings, five yojanas in extent on every side. And this is the field of the great-souled Kurus, whose habit it was to sacrifice.

If men die at this spot they win a place in heaven; that was the resolve with which the rites were done here. Here is the beautiful and sacred Sarasvati, full of water, and here, lord of men, is Vinashana, the place where the Sarasvati disappeared. This is the gate of the Nishada kingdom, and it was from hatred of the Nishadas that the Sarasvati went into the earth, so that they might not see her. This is the sacred region of Chamashodbheda, where she became visible again, and here she is joined by other sacred rivers running to the sea. Conqueror of foes, this is the sacred spot named Sindhu, where Lopamudra accepted the great sage Agastya as her lord, and you whose effulgence is the sun’s, here is the tirtha called Prabhasa, the favorite of Indra, which removes all sins. Over there the region of Vishnupada is visible, and here is the delightful and sacred river Vipasha. In grief for the death of his sons the great sage Vasishtha threw himself into this stream after binding his limbs, and when he rose from the water, behold, he was unfettered. Look with your brothers, king, at the sacred region of Kashmir, frequented by holy sages. This is the spot where the conference took place between Agni and the sage Kashyapa, and between Nahusha’s son and the sages of the north. Great prince, yonder is the gate of Manasasarovara. In the middle of this mountain a gap was opened by Rama. And here, prince of prowess that cannot be baffled, is the famous region of Vatikhanda, which lies to the north of the gate of Videha though it is adjacent to it. There is another very remarkable thing about this place: at the waning of every yuga the god Shiva, who can assume any shape at will, may be seen with Uma and his followers. In that lake people who want the welfare of their families propitiate the holder of the great bow Pinaka with sacrifices in the month of Chaitra, and persons of devotion who have their passions under control bathe in that lake, become free of sins, and without doubt attain the holy regions. Here is the sacred tirtha called Ujjanaka, where the holy sage Vasishtha with his wife Arundhati, and the sage Yavakri also, obtained tranquillity. Over there is the lake Kaushava, where the lotuses called kausheshaya grow, and here is the sacred hermitage of Rukmini, where she attained peace after conquering that evil passion, anger. I think, prince, that you have heard something about that man of meditations, Bhrigutunga; there before you is that lofty peak. And foremost of kings, yonder is the Vitasta, the sacred stream that absolves men of all sins; its water is extremely cool and limpid and the great sages use it largely. Prince, behold the holy rivers Jala and Upajala on either side of the Yamuna. By performing a sacrifice here king Ushinara surpassed Indra himself in greatness. And, descendant of Bharata, Indra and Agni, wanting to test Ushinara’s merit and to give him boons, presented themselves at his sacrificial ground: Indra in the shape of a hawk, Agni in the shape of a pigeon. And the pigeon, in fear of the hawk, fell on the king’s thigh and asked for his protection.

A key to reading this (places): Here Lomasha’s sight ranges hundreds of miles from where he stands, and the epic lets it. Vinashana is where the Sarasvati sinks into the desert on the border of Haryana and Rajasthan, Chamashodbheda where she reappears; the Vipasha is the Beas, whose name means “unfettered,” from Vasishtha’s bonds dissolving in it, and the Vitasta is the Jhelum. Kashmir, Manasarovar, and Bhrigutunga in Nepal come in one breath; this is a pilgrim’s vision, not a map. The shami tree is the one in whose branches the Pandavas will hide their weapons in the Virata Parva, and Ushinara’s story is the one the last words of the passage are leading into.

The gist: The road reaches the edge of Kurukshetra, where Yayati’s altars have made the earth sag and where dying wins heaven. After the plunge at Plakshavatarana Yudhishthira says he can see Arjuna from here; Lomasha says that sages see like that. And in that same sight he counts off the tirthas of the north until he stops at Ushinara’s sacrifice, where a pigeon has just landed on a king’s thigh.

The hawk and the pigeon: king Ushinara on the scales

The hawk spoke first, and it spoke like a lawyer. All the kings of the earth call you a pious ruler, it said. Why then, prince, have you stooped to a deed the ordinances do not sanction? I am sorely afflicted with hunger. Do not withhold from me what the deity has appointed for my food, under the impression that you are serving virtue, when in reality you are forsaking it. The king answered from the other side of the same law. Best of the feathered race, afflicted with fear of you and desperate to escape your talons, this bird has come to me in a hurry, asking for its life. When a pigeon has sought my protection like this, do you not see that the highest merit lies precisely in my not surrendering it to you? It is trembling, it is agitated, it is begging me for its life. To forsake it would be blameworthy beyond question. The man who kills a Brahmin, the man who kills a cow, the common mother of all the worlds, and the man who forsakes one who has sought his protection are equally sinful.

The hawk did not argue about the pigeon; it argued about virtue itself. Lord of earth, all beings derive their life from food, and food nourishes and sustains them. A man can live long after giving up what is dearest to him, but he cannot live after giving up food. Deprived of food, my life will leave this body and go to regions where such troubles do not exist. But at my death, pious king, my wife and children will surely perish, and by protecting this one pigeon you are failing to protect many lives. The virtue that stands in the way of another virtue is no virtue at all; in reality it is unrighteousness. King whose prowess consists in truth, that virtue is worthy of the name which does not conflict. Compare the opposing virtues, weigh their merits, and espouse the one that does not oppose. Strike a balance between virtues, king, and adopt the one that preponderates. The king had heard enough to be suspicious. Best of birds, he said, you speak words of such good that I suspect you are Suparna, the monarch of birds. I have no hesitation in declaring that you are fully conversant with the ways of virtue. As you speak wonders about it, I think there is nothing about it unknown to you. How then can you regard forsaking one who seeks help as virtuous? Your effort in this matter, ranger of the skies, has been in quest of food. You can appease your hunger with some other food, and more of it. I am perfectly willing to procure whatever seems most tasteful to you, an ox, a boar, a deer, a buffalo. The hawk refused the substitution. Great king, I do not want boar or ox or any of the beasts. What have I to do with other food? Leave me this pigeon, bull among Kshatriyas, which heaven has ordained for my food today. That hawks eat pigeons is the eternal provision. Prince, do not lean for support on a plantain tree without knowing how weak it is. The king refused the refusal. Ranger of the skies, I am willing to bestow on you this rich province of my race, or anything else that seems desirable to you. With the sole exception of this pigeon, which has come to me craving protection, I will gladly give you anything you like. Tell me what I must do for the deliverance of this bird. But this I will not return to you on any condition whatever.

Then the hawk named a price that was not a substitution. Great ruler of men, if you have conceived an affection for this pigeon, cut off a portion of your own flesh and weigh it in a balance against the bird. When you find it equal in weight to the pigeon, give it to me, and I will be satisfied. The king said: this request of yours, hawk, I consider a favor to me, and I will give you my own flesh, weighed in a balance. Saying this, said Lomasha, mighty son of Kunti, the highly virtuous king cut a piece of flesh from his own body and set it on the scale against the pigeon. The pigeon was heavier. He cut another piece and added it. Piece after piece went onto the scale, and the pigeon stayed heavier, until there was no more flesh left on his body, and then the king climbed onto the scale himself, utterly devoid of flesh.

The hawk said: I am Indra, virtuous king, and this pigeon is Agni, the carrier of the sacrificial butter. We came to your sacrificial ground to test your merit. Since you have cut your own flesh from your body, your glory shall be resplendent and surpass all others in the world. As long as men speak of you, king, so long shall your glory endure, and you shall inhabit the holy regions. With that Indra rose to heaven. And the virtuous king Ushinara, having filled heaven and earth with the merit of his pious deeds, ascended to heaven in a radiant shape. Behold, king, the residence of that noble-hearted monarch. Here holy sages and gods are seen, together with virtuous and high-souled Brahmins.

A key to reading this (names): Vyasa calls this king Ushinara. The tradition tells the same story of Shibi, Ushinara’s son, and in the next chapter Markandeya will tell it again as the test of king Shibi. A story told twice, under different names, is simply how the Mahabharata behaves; each speaker’s name is kept here as he gave it. Notice the hawk’s argument. It never calls the king’s act wrong; it calls it a conflict between two virtues, and the king answers it on the scales rather than in debate. Suparna is Garuda, king of birds.

The gist: A hawk debates dharma and a king refuses to give up the one who asked him for shelter. The price is set: flesh equal to a pigeon. Piece after piece, and the scale does not tip, until the king climbs onto it himself. Then the hawk and the pigeon show who they are.

Ashtavakra: the child who corrected his father from the womb, and the argument at Janaka’s gate

See here, lord of men, Lomasha said, the sacred hermitage of Shvetaketu, son of Uddalaka, whose fame as an expert in the sacred mantras is spread so widely on earth. This hermitage is graced with coconut trees. Here Shvetaketu saw the goddess Sarasvati in her human shape and said to her, may I be endowed with the gift of speech. In that age Shvetaketu, son of Uddalaka, and Ashtavakra, son of Kahoda, who were uncle and nephew, were the best of those versed in the sacred lore. Those two Brahmins of matchless energy went into the sacrificial ground of king Janaka and there defeated Vandin in a debate. Worship, son of Kunti, with your brothers, the hermitage of the man whose grandson was Ashtavakra, who while still a child caused Vandin to be drowned in a river after beating him in a contest of learning. Tell me all about the power of that man, Yudhishthira said, who defeated Vandin like that. Why was he born as Ashtavakra, crooked in eight parts of his body?

The sage Uddalaka had a disciple named Kahoda, Lomasha said, of subdued passions, wholly devoted to his teacher’s service, who had continued his studies long. The teacher recognized that service and gave him his own daughter, Sujata, in marriage, and mastery of the scriptures as well. She conceived a child radiant as fire. And the embryo spoke to its father while he was reading. Father, you have been reading the whole night, but your reading does not seem correct to me. Even in the womb I have, by your favor, become versed in the scriptures and the Vedas with all their branches. I say, father, that what comes from your mouth is not correct. Insulted like that in front of his disciples, the great sage cursed the child in the womb in his anger: because you speak this way even in the womb, you shall be crooked in eight parts of your body. The child was born crooked, and the great sage was ever after known as Ashtavakra. He had an uncle named Shvetaketu who was the same age as himself. Afflicted by the growing child in her womb and wanting money, Sujata conciliated her husband, who had none, and said to him in private: how shall I manage, great sage, when the tenth month of my pregnancy has come? You have no substance by which I can meet the needs that follow a birth. So Kahoda went to king Janaka for riches. There he was defeated in debate by Vandin, who was well versed in the science of argument, and in consequence he was immersed in water. Uddalaka heard that his son-in-law had been defeated and drowned by Vandin, and he said to his daughter Sujata: keep this a secret from Ashtavakra. She kept it, and Ashtavakra, when he was born, heard nothing of the matter. He took Uddalaka for his father and Shvetaketu for his brother. In his twelfth year Shvetaketu saw him one day seated on his father’s lap and pulled him off by the hand, and when Ashtavakra began to cry, told him: that is not your father’s lap. The cruelty went straight into Ashtavakra’s heart and pained him sorely. He went home and asked his mother, where is my father? Greatly afflicted by the question and afraid of a curse, Sujata told him everything. And having heard it all, the Brahmin said to his uncle Shvetaketu that night: let us go to the sacrifice of king Janaka, where many wonderful things are to be seen. There we shall listen to the debates of the Brahmins and eat excellent food, and our knowledge will increase; the recitation of the Vedas is sweet to hear and full of blessings. So uncle and nephew went to the splendid sacrifice of king Janaka, and being driven from the entrance, Ashtavakra met the king and addressed him.

When no Brahmin is met on the road, Ashtavakra said, the road belongs to the blind, the deaf, the women, carriers of burdens, and the king, in that order. But when a Brahmin is met on the road, it belongs to him alone. The king said: I give you the privilege to enter; go in by whatever way you like. No fire is so small that it may be slighted; even Indra bows to the Brahmins. Ashtavakra said: we have come, ruler of men, to witness your sacrifice, and our curiosity is very great. We have come as guests; we want the permission of your order. Son of Indradyumna, we have come to see the sacrifice and to meet king Janaka and speak with him, but your warder obstructs us, and our anger at it burns us like a fever. The warder answered for himself. We carry out the orders of Vandin. Hear what I have to say: lads are not permitted to enter here; only learned old Brahmins are admitted. If that is the condition, Ashtavakra said, that the door is open only to the old, then we have a right to enter. We are old. We have observed sacred vows and we possess the energy that comes from the Vedic lore. We have served our superiors and subdued our passions and won proficiency in knowledge. It is said that even boys are not to be slighted, for a fire, small as it is, burns when it is touched. Young Brahmin, said the warder, I consider you a boy; so recite, if you know it, the verse demonstrating the existence of the Supreme Being, adored by the divine sages, which although composed of one letter is yet manifold. Make no vain boast. Learned men are really very rare. Ashtavakra said: true growth cannot be inferred from the mere growth of the body, as the knots of the shalmali tree do not show its age. That tree is called full-grown which, though slender and short, bears fruit; the one that bears no fruit is not considered grown. Boys receive instruction from the old, said the warder, and in time they grow old too; knowledge is not attainable in a short time. Why then, being a child, do you talk like an old man? A man is not old because his head is gray, said Ashtavakra. The gods regard him as old who, though a child in years, possesses knowledge. The sages have not laid down that a man’s merit consists in years, or gray hair, or wealth, or friends; to us he is great who is versed in the Vedas. I have come here, porter, wanting to see Vandin in the court. Go and tell king Janaka, who has a garland of lotuses on his neck, that I am here. Today you will see me enter into dispute with the learned and defeat Vandin in debate, and when the others have been silenced, let the Brahmins of matured learning and the king with his chief priests bear witness to the quality of my attainments, high or low. How can you, in your tenth year, said the warder, hope to enter this sacrifice, into which only learned and educated men are admitted? Still, I will try some means for your admittance; try yourself as well.

So Ashtavakra addressed the king. King, foremost of Janaka’s race, you are the paramount sovereign and all power reposes in you. In times of old king Yayati celebrated sacrifices; in the present age it is you. We have heard that the learned Vandin, after defeating men expert in discussion, has them drowned by faithful servants in your employ. Hearing this I have come before these Brahmins to expound the doctrine of the unity of the Supreme Being. Where is Vandin now? Tell me, so that I may approach him and destroy him as the sun destroys the stars. The king warned him. You hope, Brahmin, to defeat Vandin without knowing his power of speech. Can those who know it speak as you do? He has been sounded by Brahmins versed in the Vedas. You hope to defeat him only because you do not know his power. Many a Brahmin has waned before him as the stars before the sun. People proud of their learning, wanting to defeat him, have lost their glory on appearing before him and retired without venturing to speak to the assembly. Vandin has never disputed with a man like me, Ashtavakra said, and that is the only reason he takes himself for a lion and goes about roaring like one. Today, meeting me, he will lie down dead, like a cart on the highway whose wheels have come off. Then the king tested him. He alone is truly learned who understands the significance of the thing that has thirty divisions, twelve parts, twenty-four joints, and three hundred and sixty spokes. Ashtavakra said: may that ever-moving wheel that has twenty-four joints, six naves, twelve peripheries, and sixty spokes protect you. The king said: who among the gods bears those two that go together like two mares yoked to a chariot and sweep like a hawk, and to what do they give birth? Ashtavakra said: may God forbid the presence of those two in your house, king, aye, even in the house of your enemies; he who appears with the wind for his charioteer begets them, and they produce him. The king said: what is it that does not close its eyes even while sleeping; what does not move even when born; what has no heart; and what increases in its own speed? Ashtavakra said: it is a fish that does not close its eyelids while sleeping; an egg that does not move when produced; a stone that has no heart; a river that increases in its own speed. And the king said: it seems, possessor of divine energy, that you are no human being. I consider you a matured man, whatever your years; no other man compares with you in the art of speech. I therefore give you admittance. There is Vandin.

A key to reading this (the riddles): Janaka’s riddles are about time and the world. The thing of thirty divisions is a month of thirty days; twelve parts are the months, twenty-four joints the fortnights, three hundred and sixty spokes the days: the wheel of the year, which Ashtavakra hands back with six seasons for naves and sixty spokes. The two mares are lightning and thunder, begotten by the cloud that has the wind for its charioteer and begetting it in turn. The one-lettered verse the warder demands points to Om. Ashtavakra is Kahoda’s son and Uddalaka’s grandson, which is why Lomasha describes the hermitage by the grandson.

The gist: A child who corrected his father’s recitation from inside the womb is born crooked in eight places, and for twelve years does not know that his father was drowned by Vandin. An uncle’s cruel sentence reveals it, and he walks to Janaka’s gate, where first the doorkeeper and then the king test him. He passes both tests by riddle, and inside, Vandin is waiting.

Ashtavakra and Vandin: the contest from one to thirteen, and the limbs made straight in the Samanga

King, leader of fierce legions, Ashtavakra said, in this assembly of monarchs of unrivaled power I cannot find Vandin, chief of the disputants. I am searching for him as one searches for a swan on a vast expanse of water. Vandin, you regard yourself as the foremost of controversialists. When you engage with me, you will not flow like the current of a river. I am like a full-flaming fire. Be silent before me, Vandin. Do not wake a sleeping tiger. Know that you will not escape unbitten after trampling on the head of a venomous snake that licks the corners of its mouth and has been hurt by your foot. The weak man who in pride of strength strikes a blow at a mountain only hurts his hands and his nails; the mountain shows no wound. As other mountains are inferior to Mainaka, and calves to the ox, so all the other kings of the earth are inferior to the lord of Mithila. As Indra is the foremost of celestials and Ganga the best of rivers, so you alone, king, are the greatest of monarchs. King, have Vandin brought into my presence.

So, Yudhishthira, said Lomasha, Ashtavakra, wroth with Vandin, thundered in the assembly and said to him: answer my questions, and I will answer yours. And the contest ran up the numbers, each man required to name, for the next figure, that many things in the Vedic and the ordinary world, and to falter was to lose. Vandin said: one only fire blazes in many shapes; one only sun illumines the whole world; one only hero, Indra, lord of celestials, destroys enemies; one only Yama is the sole lord of the fathers. Ashtavakra said: two friends, Indra and Agni, ever move together; the two celestial sages are Narada and Parvata; twins are the Ashvins; two is the number of a chariot’s wheels; and it is as a couple that husband and wife live, as the deity ordained. Vandin said: three kinds of born beings are produced by acts; the three Vedas together perform the Vajapeya sacrifice; at three times the Adhvaryus begin sacrificial rites; three is the number of words; three are the divine lights. Ashtavakra said: four are the orders of life of the Brahmins; the four orders perform sacrifices; four are the cardinal points; four is the number of letters; and four, as is ever known, are the legs of a cow. Vandin said: five is the number of fires; five are the feet of the meter Pankti; five are the sacrifices; five locks, the Vedas say, are on the heads of the Apsaras; and five sacred rivers are known in the world. Ashtavakra said: six cows, some assert, are paid as a fee on the establishing of the sacred fire; six are the seasons of the wheel of time; six is the number of the senses; six stars make the constellation Krittika; and six, in all the Vedas, is the number of the Sadyaska sacrifice. Vandin said: seven are the domesticated animals; seven the wild; seven meters complete a sacrifice; seven are the sages; seven forms of homage exist; and seven are the strings of the vina. Ashtavakra said: eight are the bags that hold a hundredfold; eight are the legs of the sharabha that preys on lions; eight Vasus, we hear, are among the celestials; and eight are the angles of the sacrificial stake in every rite. Vandin said: nine are the mantras for kindling the fire in sacrifices to the fathers; nine are the appointed functions in the process of creation; nine letters compose the foot of the meter Brihati; and nine is ever the number of the figures in calculation. Ashtavakra said: ten is the number of directions that enter into the cognition of men; ten hundreds make a thousand; ten are the months a woman bears; and ten are the teachers of true knowledge, ten its haters, and ten again those capable of learning it. Vandin said: eleven are the objects of enjoyment of beings; eleven is the number of the sacrificial stakes; eleven are the changes of the natural state of those that have life; and eleven are the Rudras among the gods in heaven. Ashtavakra said: twelve months compose the year; twelve letters make the foot of the meter Jagati; twelve are the minor sacrifices; and twelve, according to the learned, are the Adityas. Vandin said: the thirteenth lunar day is considered the most auspicious; thirteen islands exist on earth.

Having gone that far, Lomasha said, Vandin stopped. And Ashtavakra supplied the second half of the verse: thirteen sacrifices are presided over by Keshi; and thirteen are devoured by the atichhandas, the longer meters of the Veda. Seeing Ashtavakra speaking and the charioteer’s son silent, pensive, with his head hanging, the assembly broke into a long uproar, and when the tumult rose in that splendid sacrifice, the Brahmins came to Ashtavakra well pleased, with joined hands, and began to pay him homage. Then Ashtavakra said: before this, this man defeated Brahmins in debate and had them cast into the water. Let Vandin meet the same fate today. Seize him and drown him. And Vandin answered with the thing he had never told anyone. Janaka, I am the son of king Varuna. At the same time as your sacrifice, a sacrifice extending over twelve years began there, and it was for that I sent the principal Brahmins down; they went to witness Varuna’s sacrifice. Look, there they are, returning. I pay homage to the worshipful Ashtavakra, by whose grace today I shall rejoin him who begot me. Ashtavakra was not finished. Defeating the Brahmins by words or by subtlety, Vandin cast them into the waters of the sea. The Vedic truth he suppressed by false arguments I have rescued today by my intellect. Now let candid men judge. As Agni, who knows the character of the good and the bad alike, leaves unscorched the bodies of those whose designs are honest and so takes their part, so good men judge the assertions of boys, though they lack the power of speech, and are favorably disposed toward them. Janaka, you hear my words as if you had been stupefied by eating the fruit of the shleshmataki tree. Or flattery has robbed you of your senses, and that is why, though my words pierce you like a hook an elephant, you do not hear them. Janaka said: listening to your words, I take them to be excellent and superhuman, and your form too stands revealed as superhuman. As you have today defeated Vandin in discussion, I place even him at your disposal. King, said Ashtavakra, Vandin alive serves no purpose of mine. If his father is really Varuna, let him be drowned in the sea. I am king Varuna’s son, said Vandin; I have no fear of being drowned. And at this very moment Ashtavakra shall see his long-lost sire, Kahoda.

Then, before Janaka, rose all the Brahmins, duly worshiped by the great-souled Varuna. Kahoda said: it is for this, Janaka, that men pray for sons by meritorious acts. What I failed at, my son has achieved. Weak men may have sons endowed with strength; dunces may have intelligent sons; the illiterate may have sons possessed of learning. And Vandin said: it is with your sharpened axe, monarch, that even Yama severs the heads of foes. May prosperity attend you. In this sacrifice of king Janaka the principal hymns of the Uktha rite are being chanted and the soma is being adequately quaffed, and the gods themselves in person, with cheerful hearts, are accepting their shares. When the Brahmins had risen in enhanced splendor, Vandin took king Janaka’s permission and entered the waters of the sea. Then Ashtavakra worshiped his father and was himself worshiped by the Brahmins, and having defeated the charioteer’s son he went home with his uncle to his own excellent hermitage. There, in his mother’s presence, his father said to him: my son, enter this river Samanga, quickly. He entered it, and as he went under, all his crooked limbs were made straight at once. From that day the river has been called Samanga, the well-limbed, and it has the power to purify sins; whoever bathes in her is freed of them. So, Yudhishthira, go down with your brothers and your wife and perform your ablutions, and living happily here with your brothers and the Brahmins, son of Kunti, scion of Ajamidha, you will perform with me other acts of merit, intent on good deeds.

A key to reading this (the contest): The debate is a test of memory and enumeration rather than of logic: for each number, name that many things in the Vedic and the everyday worlds, and the first to stall loses. Vandin stalls halfway through thirteen and Ashtavakra completes the verse; that is the moment of defeat. The story calls Vandin both “the charioteer’s son” and “Varuna’s son,” and turns his drowning into a homecoming, so a tale that has been about drowned men ends with a father returning from under the sea.

The gist: Counting from one to thirteen, Vandin loses, and the sentence he passed on others is demanded for him. Then the secret: the drowned Brahmins were at Varuna’s sacrifice, and Kahoda comes back. At his father’s word Ashtavakra dives into the Samanga and his eight bent limbs straighten. That river is the one running in front of the Pandavas.

From the Samanga to Kanakhala, and the beginning of Yavakrita, who wanted the Vedas without a teacher

Here, king, Lomasha said, is visible the river Samanga, whose former name was Madhuvila, and yonder is the spot called Kardamila, the bathing place of Bharata. Shachi’s lord, fallen into misery for killing Vritra, was freed of his sin by bathing in this Samanga. Here, bull among men, is the spot where the mountain Mainaka sank into the earth, and for that it is called Vinashana. To obtain sons Aditi in days of old cooked here that celebrated food. Bulls among men, climb this lofty mountain and put an end to your inglorious misery, unworthy to be spoken of. Before you, king, is the Kanakhala range, favorite resort of sages, and yonder the mighty river Ganga. Here in ancient times the holy sage Sanatkumara attained ascetic success. Scion of Ajamidha, by bathing here in this river you will be freed of all your sins. Son of Kunti, with your ministers touch the waters of this lake called Punya, and this mountain Bhrigutunga, and these two rivers called Tushniganga. Here appears the hermitage of the sage Sthulashiras; resign here your anger and your sense of self-importance. And there, son of Pandu, is the beautiful hermitage of Raibhya, where Bharadvaja’s son Yavakrita perished, deep though he was in Vedic lore. Yudhishthira asked how Yavakrita had acquired that depth and how he had perished, since he delighted in the deeds of godlike men.

Bharadvaja and Raibhya were two friends, Lomasha said, who lived here and took the greatest pleasure in each other’s company. Raibhya had two sons, Arvavasu and Paravasu; Bharadvaja had one, Yavakrita. Raibhya and his sons were versed in the Vedas, while Bharadvaja practiced asceticism, and from boyhood the friendship between the two men was without equal. Then Yavakrita, high-spirited, saw that his father, the ascetic, was slighted by the Brahmins while Raibhya and his sons were greatly respected, and he was overwhelmed with sorrow and sorely aggrieved. He took up severe austerities for a knowledge of the Vedas and exposed his body to a flaming fire, and by the rigor of it he caused anxiety in the mind of Indra. Indra came to him. Why, sage, have you engaged in such rigid austerities? Yavakrita said: you whom the celestial hosts adore, I am practicing severe penance so that a knowledge of the Vedas such as no Brahmin has ever acquired may be manifest to me. Conqueror of Paka, these efforts of mine have been for the Vedic lore. Kaushika, by the force of asceticism I mean to obtain all kinds of knowledge. Lord, a knowledge of the Vedas learned from teachers takes a long time; that is why, to become proficient quickly, I have put forth these high endeavors. Indra said: Brahmin sage, the way you have adopted is not the proper way. Why will you destroy yourself? Go and learn from the lips of a preceptor.

Shakra left, and Yavakrita of the immeasurable energy went back to asceticism, and we have heard, king, that carrying on severe austerities he again greatly agitated Indra. The slayer of Vala came a second time to the sage at his penances and forbade him again: you are striving that the Vedic lore may be manifest to you and to your father, but your exertion can never succeed, and this act of yours is not well advised. Yavakrita answered with a threat. Lord of the celestials, if you will not do for me what I want, I shall observe stricter vows and practice severer penances. Know that if you do not fulfill all my desires, I will cut off my limbs and offer them as a sacrifice into a blazing fire. Indra reflected on the sage’s determination and hit on an expedient. He took the guise of an ascetic Brahmin hundreds of years old, infirm, wasted by consumption, and at the spot on the Bhagirathi where Yavakrita came down to bathe, he began to throw up a dam with sand. Since Yavakrita had paid no heed to his words, Indra began to fill the Ganga with sand, handful after handful, without stopping, building his dam where the sage was sure to notice. Yavakrita saw the old man laboring in earnest and broke into laughter. What are you engaged in, Brahmin, and what is your object? Why do you make this mighty effort for nothing? Indra said: I am trying, my son, to dam the Ganga so that there may be a convenient crossing; people have considerable difficulty crossing and recrossing by boat. Yavakrita said: you of ascetic wealth, you cannot dam this mighty current. Desist from what is impracticable, Brahmin, and take up something that is practicable. Indra said: sage, I have imposed this heavy task on myself just as you, to obtain a knowledge of the Vedas, have begun these penances, which can never bear fruit. Yavakrita saw the mirror and bargained anyway. If those efforts of mine are as fruitless as your own, lord of the heavenly hosts, then be pleased to do for me what is practicable. Grant me boons by which I may excel other men.

And Indra granted them. As you desire, the Vedas will be manifest to you, and to your father. All your other desires will be fulfilled as well. Go home, Yavakrita. Yavakrita went to his father with the news: father, the Vedas will be manifest to you and to me, and I have obtained boons by which we shall excel all men. Bharadvaja’s answer was a warning wrapped around a story. My son, having got what you desired, you will be proud, and when you are puffed up with pride and have also become uncharitable, destruction will soon overtake you. There is an anecdote the gods tell. In ancient times there lived a sage named Valadhi, of great energy, who in grief at the death of a child practiced the severest penances to have a child that would be immortal. He obtained a son as he desired, but the gods, though favorably disposed, did not make the boy immortal like themselves. They said: a mortal cannot be made immortal without condition. Your son’s life shall depend on some instrumental cause. Valadhi said: chiefs of the celestials, these mountains have existed eternally and are indestructible; let them be the instrumental cause of my son’s life. A son was born to him, Medhavi, of a very irritable temper, and hearing of the circumstances of his birth he grew haughty and began to insult the sages, and ranged the earth doing them mischief. One day he met the learned sage Dhanushaksha and maltreated him, and Dhanushaksha cursed him: be reduced to ashes. Medhavi was not reduced to ashes. So Dhanushaksha had the mountain that was the cause of Medhavi’s life shattered by buffaloes, and with the destruction of that cause the boy perished, and his father embraced the dead son and bewailed his fate. Now hear, my son, what the sages versed in the Vedas chanted when they found him mourning: a mortal on no condition whatever can overcome what fate has ordained; behold, Dhanushaksha succeeded in shattering even the mountain, with buffaloes. So young ascetics puffed up with pride at having obtained boons perish in a short time. Do not be one of them. This Raibhya, my son, is possessed of great energy, and his two sons are like him. Be vigilant, and never approach him. Raibhya is a great ascetic of an irritable temper; when angry he can do you harm. Yavakrita said: I will do as you bid me. Do not, father, feel any anxiety about that. Raibhya deserves my regard even as you do. Having answered his father in those sweet words, Yavakrita, fearing nothing and nobody, began to take delight in wantonly offending other sages.

A key to reading this (a place and a name): Kanakhala is the old name for the district of Haridwar, where the Ganga leaves the mountains for the plain; from here the road turns upward. Kaushika is one of Indra’s names. The heart of Yavakrita’s demand is that he wants the Vedas from austerity rather than from a teacher, and Indra’s dam of sand is a mirror held up to that demand. Bharadvaja’s warning turns on the word “instrumental cause”: a life that hangs on a single condition is exactly as unbreakable as that condition.

The gist: A son burned by the slighting of his father tries to wrench the Vedas out of heaven by penance. Indra reasons twice, then builds a dam of sand to show him what “impossible” looks like, and grants the boon regardless. The father says: this boon will make you proud, stay away from Raibhya. The son says yes, and goes out to do precisely that.

Two beings from Raibhya’s matted hair, the death of Yavakrita, and Bharadvaja’s pyre

One day in the month of Chaitra, wandering at large without fear, Yavakrita came to the hermitage of Raibhya, and in that beautiful place, among trees in blossom, he saw Raibhya’s daughter-in-law sauntering about like a Kinnara woman. He lost his senses to passion and said to the bashful woman, without shame, be attached to me. She knew what he was; she was afraid of a curse, and she was thinking of Raibhya’s power, and so she went to him saying, I agree, and having drawn him into a private place, she kept him chained. When Raibhya came home, conqueror of foes, he found his daughter-in-law, Paravasu’s wife, in tears. He consoled her with soft words and asked the cause of her grief, and the beautiful woman told him all that Yavakrita had said to her and all that she had cleverly said to him. At that gross misbehavior the sage’s mind flamed up. Seized with passion, that great sage of the highly irascible temper tore off a matted lock of his hair and offered it as a sacrifice on the sacred fire with holy mantras, and out of it sprang a woman exactly resembling his daughter-in-law. He plucked another lock and offered it, and out of that sprang a demon terrible to look at, with fierce eyes. The two of them asked Raibhya what they should do. Go and kill Yavakrita, the angry sage said. We will, they said, and went. With her charms the woman the large-hearted sage had made robbed Yavakrita of his sacred water pot; and once he was without his pot and unclean, the demon flew at him with uplifted spear. Yavakrita saw the demon coming and rose all at once and fled toward a tank. It was empty of water. He ran toward all the rivers, and they were all dried up. Obstructed again and again by the fierce demon with the spear, Yavakrita in his fright tried to get into the fire-room of his father’s hermitage, and there, king, a blind Shudra warder repulsed him, and he stood grasped at the door. Seeing him held fast by the Shudra, the demon hurled the spear, and Yavakrita fell dead, pierced through the heart. Having killed him, the demon went back to Raibhya and, with the sage’s permission, lived with the woman.

Bharadvaja came home that evening, son of Kunti, having performed the day’s ritual duties and gathered the sacrificial fuel. And because his son had been killed, the sacrificial fires, which came forward to welcome him every day, did not come forward that day. The great sage marked the change in the fire-room and asked the blind Shudra warder seated there: why is it, Shudra, that the fires do not rejoice at the sight of me? You too do not rejoice as you usually do. Is all well with my hermitage? I hope my son of little sense has not gone to the sage Raibhya. Answer all my questions quickly. My mind misgives me. The Shudra said: your son of little sense went to the sage Raibhya, and that is why he lies prostrate on the ground, killed by a powerful demon. Attacked by the Rakshasa with the spear, he tried to force his way into this room, and I barred his way with my arms. Then, standing hopeless, wanting water in an unclean state, he was killed by the vehement Rakshasa with the spear in his hand. Bharadvaja, sorely afflicted, embraced his dead son and lamented. My son, it was for the good of the Brahmins that you practiced penance, with the intention that the Vedas no Brahmin had studied might be manifest to you. Your behavior toward the Brahmins was always for their good, and you were innocent toward all creatures, and at last, alas, you lapsed into rudeness. I had forbidden you to visit Raibhya’s residence, and to that very hermitage, as destructive to you as Yama himself, you went. Evil-minded is that man who, knowing that I am old and that Yavakrita was my only son, gave way to wrath. Through Raibhya I have lost my child. Without you, my son, I will give up my life, the most precious thing in the world. In grief for my son I renounce my life, but I say this: Raibhya’s eldest son shall in a short time kill him, though he be innocent. Blessed are those to whom children have never been born, for they lead a happy life without the grief that follows the death of a child. Who in this world can be more wicked than those who, from affliction and deprived of their senses by sorrow at a child’s death, curse even their dearest friend? I found my son dead and have cursed my dearest friend. What second man can there be in this world destined to suffer so grievous a misfortune? Having lamented long, Bharadvaja cremated his son and then entered a full-blazing fire himself.

A key to reading this (a hard moment): The story writes Yavakrita’s offense plainly and his punishment just as plainly: first the water pot is taken from him, which is his purity, and then every tank and river dries. The two beings from Raibhya’s hair, a kritya, a woman made by sorcery, and a Rakshasa, are the two faces of the very ascetic power Yavakrita wanted to seize. Bharadvaja’s curse is the most human moment in the tale: he curses his friend and in the same breath calls himself wicked for doing it.

The gist: Yavakrita lays hands on Raibhya’s daughter-in-law, and Raibhya makes his punishment out of two locks of hair. Water is taken, the lakes go dry, a blind doorkeeper bars his father’s door, and a spear goes into his heart. The returning father is not greeted by his fires; he burns his son, curses his friend’s eldest son with parricide, and walks into the flames.

Paravasu kills his father, Arvavasu keeps the vow, and the sun gives up a mantra

At that very time the mighty and fortunate king Brihadyumna, who was Raibhya’s patron, began a sacrifice, and that intelligent monarch engaged Raibhya’s two sons, Arvavasu and Paravasu, to assist him in the rite. With their father’s permission the two went to the sacrifice, while Raibhya stayed in the hermitage with Paravasu’s wife. And one day Paravasu, wanting to see his wife, came home alone. He met his father in the wood, wrapped in the skin of a black antelope. The night was far advanced and dark, and in that deep wood Paravasu, blinded by drowsiness, mistook his father for a straggling deer, and for the sake of his own safety, unintentionally, he killed him. He performed the funeral rites, went back to the sacrifice, and told his brother: you will never be able to perform this task unassisted. And I have killed our father, taking him for a deer. Brother, observe on my behalf the vow prescribed for killing a Brahmin. Sage, I shall be able to do this work without any assistant. Arvavasu said: then you officiate at this sacrifice of the gifted Brihadyumna, and for you, with my senses under perfect control, I will observe the vow prescribed for the killing of a Brahmin.

Arvavasu kept the vow and came back to the sacrifice. Paravasu saw him arrive and, in accents choked with malice, said to Brihadyumna: king, see that this killer of a Brahmin does not enter your sacrifice, or even look at it. With a single glance the killer of a Brahmin can do you harm. The king ordered his attendants at once. Driven out by them, and called killer of a Brahmin again and again, Arvavasu cried more than once: I have not killed a Brahmin. He did not claim that he had observed the vow for himself. He said his brother had committed the sin and that he had freed him from it. Having said this in anger and been reprimanded by the attendants, the Brahmin sage of austere penance withdrew in silence into the woods, took up the severest austerities there, and sought the protection of the sun. Then the revelation teaching the mantra for the worship of the sun became manifest to him, and that eternal deity, who receives his share of the sacrificial butter first, appeared before him in bodily form. The celestials, king, were pleased with Arvavasu for his acts. They had him engaged as chief priest in Brihadyumna’s sacrifice and Paravasu dismissed from it, and Agni and the other gods of their own accord bestowed boons on Arvavasu. They also prayed that his father might be restored to life. He asked for more: that his brother be absolved of his sin; that his father have no recollection of having been slain; that Bharadvaja and Yavakrita both be restored to life; and that the revelation of the sun attain celebrity on earth. So be it, the gods said, and conferred other boons besides. And so, Yudhishthira, all of those persons regained their lives. Yavakrita had a question for Agni and the other deities. I had obtained a knowledge of all the Vedas, and practiced penance too. How was it, chiefs of the immortals, that Raibhya succeeded in killing me like that? The gods said: Yavakrita, never act again as you did. What you ask about is quite possible, for you learned the Vedas without exertion and without the help of a preceptor. But this man Raibhya, bearing various troubles, satisfied his preceptor by his conduct and obtained the excellent Vedas from him through great exertion and over a long time. Having said this to Yavakrita and restored all of them to life, the celestials with Indra at their head ascended to heaven. Here, Yudhishthira, is the sacred hermitage of that sage, adorned with trees bearing blossoms and fruit in every season. Tiger among kings, dwelling at this spot you will be delivered from all your sins.

A key to reading this (one sentence): The whole tale comes to rest on one line, the gods’ answer to Yavakrita: a Veda seized by penance does not stand against a Veda earned by serving a teacher, over long years, through hardship. Bharadvaja’s curse comes true exactly as spoken, the parricide is unintended, and its expiation is done by the brother who did not sin. The one honest man in the story, Arvavasu, is the one thrown out of the sacrifice, and he is the one who brings everybody back.

The gist: Paravasu kills his father in the dark, taking him for a deer, has his brother do the penance, and then has that same brother driven out as a Brahmin-killer. The exile takes refuge in the sun, and his boons return the dead: Raibhya, Bharadvaja, Yavakrita. To the returned Yavakrita the gods give one lesson.

Source: the Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Vana Parva, Tirthayatra sub-parva, Sections 103 to 161. The Gita Press Hindi edition is the controlling witness. Kisari Mohan Ganguli’s complete English translation was used to verify names, sequence, and principal events. Where recensions differ, this retelling follows Gita Press.