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In a splendid cave of the Malaya mountain, beside the celestial river Ganga running close by, Narada, foremost among sages, settled into his seat, steadied his breath through pranayama, and sank into samadhi. His inner being was clear of every stain, and in that stillness there rose the very realization in which one beholds Brahman itself.
When word of this reached him, Indra, king of the gods, shook with fear that the sage might be practicing austerity to seize his throne. He summoned Kamadeva, the god of desire, who came to the cave with Vasanta, the spring, at his side. The two poured out every art they possessed, yet not a single seed of disturbance stirred in Narada’s mind, and beaten, they withdrew. The reason lay in the ground itself. In that same hermitage Lord Shankara had once performed his own tapas, and there he had burned Kamadeva to ash. The power of that soil was such that the arrow of desire could find no purchase upon it. Narada, however, never grasped this secret. Certain that he had conquered desire by his own strength, he let an empty pride grow in him.
The Boast in the Three Worlds
Flushed with that intoxication, the sage went straight to Kailasa and laid the entire tale of his triumph before Rudra, as if the feat had come from his own strength. Lord Shankara answered him with affection. “You are a man of great learning. Yet hear one thing from me with care. From this day, do not tell this story anywhere, and before Lord Vishnu above all, do not so much as speak its name. This account is best kept hidden.”
But Narada remained caught in the very maya that had let him believe the conquest of desire was his own doing, and so the counsel Shiva offered did not strike him as anything meant for his good. He traveled from there to Brahmaloka and said to his father Brahma, “Father, by the power of my austerity I have defeated Kamadeva.” Brahma knew the whole truth behind it, and he too warned his son to say no such thing. Yet whom does a man heed when maya has already carried off his judgment? Before long Narada arrived in Vaikuntha, eager to repeat the same tale before Vishnu.
When Vishnu saw Narada approach, he rose with deep respect, drew him to his heart, and asked, “Foremost of sages, where have you traveled from?” Swollen with pride, Narada recounted the full story of his victory over desire, every word laced with self-regard. Vishnu understood its real cause, yet he said, “Sage, you are blessed. From your very birth you have been without blemish, a celibate firm in his vows. How could the fever of desire ever find a way into you?” At this praise Narada laughed all the louder, and bowing low he said, “Lord, when your grace rests upon me, what power can poor Kamadeva hope to show?” With that the sage departed, well pleased with himself.
The City of Maya
The moment the sage was gone, by Shiva’s will Lord Shrihari brought forth his maya. Across Narada’s road he raised a vast city, a hundred yojanas wide, lovelier than Vaikuntha itself. A king of great wealth named Shilanidhi ruled there, and he had proclaimed a swayamvara for his daughter, to which princes had gathered from all four directions.
Enchanted by such a city, Narada came to the gate of King Shilanidhi. The king honored the sage, then summoned his lovely daughter Shrimati and had her touch the sage’s feet. Struck by the sight of a maiden who seemed born of the gods, Narada asked, “King, who is this?” The king replied, “Sage, she is my daughter Shrimati, known through all three worlds by the name Vishvamohini, the enchantress of the world. The season of her marriage has arrived, and she goes now to the swayamvara to choose her husband. Tell us what fortune awaits her.”
The sage, already stirred by desire, praised the maiden without restraint and said, “The husband awaiting her will surely be as resplendent as Lord Shankara, a man no one can defeat, valiant and a conqueror of desire.” He left after saying it, yet his mind circled one thought alone: how could a girl pass over so many kings and choose him and him only? And then a single scheme came to him. Troubled by desire, the sage hurried back to Vaikuntha, drew Vishnu aside, told him the whole matter, and with folded hands begged, “Lord, I am your servant. Grant me your form, so that Princess Shrimati is certain to choose me.”
The Face of a Monkey
At Narada’s plea the Lord smiled. “Sage, go to that place,” he said. “As a skilled physician works the good of a patient in the gravest pain, so I will work your good, for you are dear to me beyond others.” With those words Vishnu gave the sage the face of a monkey, while every other limb he shaped in the likeness of his own, and then he vanished on the spot. Narada believed he had been given Vishnu’s beautiful form, and he counted himself a man whose every wish had been granted. Of what the Lord had truly done to him he had not the faintest sense.
The sage soon arrived at the swayamvara hall. Seated among the guests, he told himself over and over that he wore a form like Vishnu’s own, and so the maiden would surely choose him. He had no notion of how hideous his face had turned. Everyone else in the hall saw him in his familiar form, and not one of them knew the difference. Only two attendants, seated there in the guise of brahmins, knew the secret. They were ganas of Lord Shankara, sent to guard the sage. Seeing him in such a state, the two laughed quietly between themselves, but Narada, lost in desire, paid no heed to what they were truly saying.
Meanwhile the lovely princess entered the hall, a golden garland in her hands, ringed by her women, and moved through the gathering in search of a groom to her liking. When her eyes came to Narada, a monkey’s face set upon a body like Vishnu’s, she turned away in displeasure and walked on. Finding no man worthy of her, she stood in silence and laid the victory garland on no one. At that moment Lord Vishnu himself came into the hall in the form of a king, seen by no one else, though her gaze alone found him. The instant she beheld the Lord the princess’s face lit with joy, and she placed the garland at once around his neck. Vishnu, still in the king’s form, took the maiden with him and vanished from the hall.
On the other side, every prince was left crestfallen, and Narada was seized by the anguish of desire. Then the two shiva-ganas in their brahmin disguise spoke. “Narada, you let desire bewitch you for nothing, hoping to win the princess by the power of your looks. Take a mirror and see for yourself that hateful monkey face of yours.” The words filled Narada with disbelief. He looked into a mirror, saw the monkey face that was his own, and blazed with fury. Still under maya’s spell, he cursed the two shiva-ganas. “You have mocked me, a brahmin. For this, be born as rakshasas from the seed of a brahmin. Though brahmins beget you, your forms will be those of demons.” Even at these words the two ganas held their peace, knowing the sage bewitched, and treating it all as Shiva’s will, they went away from there untroubled.
The Curse on Vishnu
Though he had cursed the ganas, Narada, held fast by maya and by Shiva’s will, could not shake off the sleep of his delusion. Remembering the trick Vishnu had played, burning like a lit fire, he reached Vaikuntha and let loose bitter words. “Hari, you are a master of deceit. You hold the whole world in your spell, and you cannot endure to see another rise. Long ago you took the shape of Mohini and made the asuras drink varuni, the liquor, and kept the nectar of amrita from their lips. Had Maheshvara Rudra not shown mercy and swallowed the poison, your whole web of maya would have unraveled that very day. Trickery is what you love best. Today I will teach you a lesson that will keep you from ever doing such a thing again.”
Then, drawing on the fire of his brahmanic power and sick with rage, Narada pronounced his curse. “Vishnu, you have driven me to torment over a woman. So in the very form in which you gave me a monkey’s face, take birth as a man and bear the grief of separation. The monkeys whose likeness you set upon me, let them be your helpers in that hour. You gave me the sorrow of losing a woman, so may that same sorrow of separation fall on you, and may your condition be that of men blinded by ignorance.”
The Maya Lifts, the Pride Dissolves
When Narada, blinded by ignorance, uttered this curse, Lord Vishnu remembered the glory of Shambhu and accepted it. And Shambhu, the author of the great cosmic play, drew back the Vishvamohini maya that had bewildered even the wise Narada. The instant that maya withdrew, clear judgment and his old knowledge returned to the sage, and every trace of his torment fell away. Deep remorse rose in him now, and he reproached himself without end. Understanding that the whole of it had been a delusion born of maya, Narada threw himself at the feet of Lord Shrihari.
The Lord lifted him and held him to his chest, and then the sage spoke. “Master, maya had bewitched me and turned my mind astray, and so I flung harsh words at you and even laid a curse on you. Lord, unmake that curse. I have committed a grave offense, and now I am surely bound for hell. Tell me some penance by which this sin of mine may be destroyed.”
Vishnu answered in a gentle voice. “Dear one, do not grieve, for you are among the finest of my devotees. This curse will come to pass only by the will of Lord Shiva. Blinded by pride, you would not listen to my words, and for that very fault Shiva has given you this outcome, since it is he who awards the fruit of every action. Fix it firmly in your mind that all of this has unfolded by the will of Lord Shiva alone. Parameshvara Shankara, the lord of all, is the one who strips away pride. He is the Parabrahma Paramatma, who takes up his own maya and appears in the forms of Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesha.”
Then he offered a fair remedy. “Let go of every doubt and sing the glory of Lord Shankara. Recite his hymn of a hundred names with undivided devotion, and worship him each day. The name of Shiva is a wildfire that burns whole mountains of sin to ash with ease. Whoever takes refuge in the boat of that name crosses the ocean of worldly existence. Go first to Anandavana, the city of Kashi, and worship Vishvanatha, and then, at my bidding, go to Brahmaloka and hear from Brahma the greatness of Shiva and his hymn of a hundred names.” Having given this counsel full of love, Lord Vishnu remembered Shrishiva and vanished.
The very austerity that had made Narada unconquerable across the three worlds became, in its intoxication, the thing that led him to a monkey’s face. And the curse he cast in anger did not fade away. By Shiva’s will it became the seed of Vishnu’s later descent into human form. Through this samhita the whole episode bends toward the glory of Shiva, so completely that Vishnu himself sets Narada on the road of Shiva’s worship.
Source: Shiva Purana (Gita Press, Sankshipta Shivapurana Anka), Rudra Samhita (the first Srishti Khanda)