The Seduction of Shiva: Tales of Life and Love (9 page)

‘You might think that someone else was Prince Sudhana on that occasion at that time,’ said the Lord.
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‘But it should not be thus seen. It was I, who in the course of being a Bodhisattva, became at that time the king called Sudhana. And if I displayed strength, courage and heroism for Manohara, and performed fire sacrifices continually for twelve years, it does not mean that I had attained the unsurpassable righteous state of enlightenment: only that philanthropy and courage are merely the causes and the means for attaining that state.’ Thus did the Lord speak, and all the people rejoiced at his words with their minds in assent.

From
Divyāvadāna
, Ch. 30

Uttama was a king known for his strength and prowess. A righteous and high-minded ruler, he was adept in sacred duties and treated everyone equally, friend or foe, son or stranger; but to the wicked he was a bringer of death and as gentle as the moon to the virtuous.

Uttama married Bahula of the Babhru line. Wanting her had filled his mind to the exclusion of all else, even in his dreams. His eyes would burn into her as he gazed at her beautiful body. The desire to touch it overwhelmed him. Even a harsh word from her he found pleasant and an insult a compliment. But while he was so enamoured of her, she did not feel the same for him. She disregarded the fine ornaments and
garlands he gave her, and would get up and leave if he held her hand for a mere moment while halfway through a cup of wine. Though she never seemed pleased and ate very little, his passion for her increased all the more.

Once, King Uttama respectfully offered a cup of wine to that proud lady. The nobles of the court were looking on at that moment together with the principal courtesans who were singing. But Queen Bahula did not wish to take the cup and turned her face away. It was a public repudiation of an unloved husband by his dearly loved spouse. The king was enraged. Hissing like a snake, he summoned the gatekeeper. ‘Take away this wicked-hearted woman immediately and leave her in some lonely forest!’ he cried, ‘And you are not to question my order.’

The gatekeeper obeyed. Taking that beauty in a chariot, he abandoned her in a forest. The queen thought it a great boon to be out of the king’s sight. As for him, passion for Bahula still smouldered in his heart, and he did not take
another wife. Night and day he thought of her as he administered his realm, observing the laws and protecting the people as a father does his own children.

One day a troubled brahman came to the monarch. ‘Great king,’ he said, ‘no one except their ruler can relieve the people’s suffering. I am in great distress. Last night I slept without bolting the door of our house, and someone abducted my wife. You must retrieve her.’

‘Brahman,’ the king responded, ‘you do not know by whom she was taken and where to. Whom shall I punish and from where will I bring her back?’

‘Sir, it is for you to find this out. The king takes a sixth part of our produce as remuneration and protects the law so that people may sleep peacefully at night.’

‘Well, I have not seen your wife. Tell me, how does she look? What is her age? Of what kind is her character?’

‘She has hard eyes and is not too tall. Her
arms are short and her face emaciated. She is pot-bellied and her breasts and buttocks are shrivelled. She is ugly, O lord of the land. I am not belittling her, but that is what she is. Her character is not amiable and her speech very harsh. In brief, she looks dreadful and is also past her youth. That is my wife, I tell you truly.’

‘Enough of her, brahman. I will get you another wife. Not a source of suffering, but someone who will add to your happiness. The best in disposition and the least in ugliness is what you need. One without looks and character is best given up.’

‘O king,’ the brahman responded, ‘the highest scriptures say that the wife must be protected. When she is, so too is the progeny. Indeed one’s own self grows from her and is also protected with the progeny. And when she is not, it leads to the commingling of castes which drags one’s forbears from heaven into hell. My wife may be harsh, but how can I leave her for another? We were joined in marriage according to sacred rites,
and without her my fund of merit depletes daily, detracting from the performance of prescribed duties and leading even to my own downfall. For she is the mother of my children, the giver of your one-sixth share, in effect the instrument and the sustainer of our rites. It is for this that you must bring back my abducted wife, master, for you are by right our protector.’

The king was not too pleased, but thought about what the brahman had said and mounted a fully equipped chariot for the search. Wandering here and there through the land, he came to a fine hermitage in a great forest. Entering it, he saw there a holy sage who got up quickly to welcome him and asked a student to bring the ritual offering even as the latter whispered in his ear.

‘I know you are King Uttama,’ said the sage. ‘Why have you come here, sir? What is it you wish?’

‘Some unknown person abducted the wife of a brahman from his house, O sage,’ the king
told him. ‘I have come looking for her. Be kind enough to respond to my queries.’

‘Ask me freely whatever you wish, O king, and if I can answer you, I will do so fully.’

‘To begin with, sir, when you saw me arrive you seemed about to make the ritual offering to me. When will that happen?’

‘I was indeed eager to do so when I saw you. But my student alerted me and I did not make it. You deserve it by virtue of your descent, but not as a person.’

‘What have I done, consciously or otherwise, that you think me undeserving, even though I have come here after long?’

‘Have you forgotten you had your wife abandoned in a forest? With her, O king, you abandoned all righteousness. A fortnight’s neglect of daily duties makes a man unfit to be touched; yours has been for a whole year. Just as a wife must be agreeable to the husband even though he is ill-disposed, so must such a wife, however unpleasant, be supported by her
husband. That brahman’s wife was disagreeable; even so he urged you to find her. He wishes to do the right thing. You, lord of the land, redeem those who renege from their ordained duties. But who can do the same for you?’

These wise words embarrassed the king. ‘It is as you say,’ he acknowledged, but then asked again about the abducted woman. ‘You, sir, are all-knowing,’ he said. ‘Who has taken her, and where?’

The sage told him, ‘She was taken by the demon Balaka who lives in the Utpalavata forest. Go there quickly, and reunite that brahman with his wife thus stopping his descent into sin, unlike you.’

The king went to the forest and saw there a woman who matched the brahman’s description. She was eating a wood-apple. ‘Good lady,’ he asked, ‘are you the wife of Susharma, the son of Vishala? How did you come to this forest? Tell me clearly.’

‘I am the daughter of the brahman Atiratha,’
she replied. ‘I am also the wife of Vishala’s son whom you just named. I was abducted by the demon Balaka as I slept at home. May that wretch go to hell. Separating me from my mother and brother, he abandoned me in this dense forest where I am in real distress. Why he neither devoured nor ravished me, I just do not know.’

‘Have you any idea where he may have gone after leaving you? I have been sent here by your husband.’

‘That nocturnal creature lives at the end of this forest. Go there, sir, and see him if you are not afraid.’

The king took the path she pointed out. The demon was with his family. Bowing to the monarch from a distance, he came forward and touched his feet. ‘You have done me a great favour by coming here, my lord,’ he said. ‘Command what I should do, for I live in your realm. Take this seat and accept this offering. Instruct me, master, for we are your servants.’

‘All that is well, demon,’ said the king. ‘Why did you kidnap the brahman Susharma’s wife? Was it to devour her or to ravish her?’

‘We are not man-eating demons, O king. Others may be, but we partake only of the fruit of our good deeds. Not the flesh but the disposition of men and women is what we eat. Their forbearance consumed, they become subject to anger; and their wickedness devoured, they become meritorious. And our demon girls have the beauty of celestial nymphs, so why should we want your women for pleasure?’

‘Well, if this woman was neither for your food nor your pleasure, why did you abduct her from the brahman’s house?’

‘That best of brahmans knows all the magic incantations,’ the demon explained. ‘To whichever sacrificial rite I went, he would expel me with his spells against demons. We were famished. Over time he became the sacrificial priest wherever we went. So we thought of this disqualification: without his wife, a man
becomes unfit for sacred rituals.’

The king was much disturbed to hear of the brahman’s disqualification. ‘Its mention is equally bad for me,’ he reflected. ‘The sage said that I was unfit to receive the offerings due to a guest. The deficiency is similar to the brahman’s, and I now face great problems without my wife.’

Even as he worried thus, the demon saluted once more. ‘Favour me with your orders, my lord,’ he said as he bowed deeply.

‘What you said about devouring people’s dispositions fits with what I would like to have done,’ the king replied. ‘Listen. Consume the unamiable nature of this brahman woman. Then return her to her home, and you would have done all that is due to me as a guest.’

As ordered by the king, the demon entered that woman with his magic and ate up her fierce ill nature. Relieved of it, she declared, ‘It was the consequence of my own deeds that I was separated from that great soul, my husband. This demon was but an instrument for our separation.
The fault was not his, nor my husband’s, but only mine, for in a previous life I must have caused someone’s separation which now rebounded on me.’

Having sent the woman to her husband’s house, the king wondered what he should do for himself. ‘That high-minded sage spoke of my unworthiness to receive his offerings,’ he sighed, ‘and the demon mentioned the brahman’s disqualification. I forsook my wife. Now what is to be done?’ Pondering on this, he went once more to the sage and told him all that had transpired with the demon, the brahman’s wife and the cure of her ill nature and her return to her husband. ‘Now, what should I do?’ he asked.

‘One’s wife is a powerful instrument of virtue, wealth and pleasure, the three worldly ends of man; particularly of virtue which is forsaken in forsaking her,’ the sage replied. ‘Without his wife, the man is unfit for his duties, of whatever caste he may be. You did not do well in abandoning your spouse, for just as husbands
are not to be deserted, neither are wives.’

‘What should I do, sir?’ the king asked. ‘I liked her but she did not like me, so I left her. Whatever she did I endured with a heart on fire. Now separated, I am afraid. She was left in the forest, and I know not where she went nor if she was eaten by lions, tigers or demons.’

‘None of them have eaten her,’ the sage assured him. ‘She is now in the nether world, her good name unblemished. The serpent king took her there and his daughter has protected her. You should rule your kingdom in accordance with your sacred duty, performing all the righteous actions together with your wife.’

The king returned to his capital. There he saw the brahman, united with his now amiable wife. Told about the king’s problem, he performed for him the sacred rite for generating affection for those who seek it. When he was sure that liking for her husband had been instilled in the queen, he declared to the ruler: ‘Best of men, now bring her near to yourself. With her enjoy pleasures
and respectfully carry out all sacred duties.’

With the help of the demon, the queen was brought back. Lovingly did she look at her husband and ask him to be pleased with her. The king was delighted and they lived together happily ever after.

From
Mārkandeya Purāṇa
, 66.3–69; 67.1–39; 68; 69.1–34

This is the story of the Pandava hero Arjuna’s visit to Amaravati, the city of paradise, on the invitation of Indra, the king of heaven, and his encounter there with the nymph Urvashi.

Dismounting from the divine chariot, Arjuna beheld the king of the gods, who was also his biological father.
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Indra was seated beneath fans redolent of celestial perfumes, and a white parasol mounted on a fine column of gold. Eminent priests lauded him respectfully with verses from the Vedas, and demigods sang his praise. Arjuna bowed to him and was embraced
in the god’s mighty arms, then seated beside him on heaven’s throne. Indra kissed his forehead affectionately, caressing his face and strong arms hardened by drawing the bowstring. His eyes lit up with joy as he gazed and smiled at Arjuna. Then Tumburu and other demigods adept in the chanting of hymns melodiously sang ballads of welcome, while the celestial nymphs—Menaka and Rambha, Urvashi and Ghritachi, Gopali and Chitralekha, and many others—danced. Skilled in pleasing even saintly minds, their lovely eyes and fetching glances, curving hips and trembling breasts, overwhelmed all awareness and thought.

The gods understood Indra’s mind. They greeted his son with due ceremony and escorted him to the divine royal palace. There Arjuna stayed, learning the usage of heavenly weapons. Indra himself taught him the use of his beloved thunderbolt and the lightning flash which is a signal for the clouds to gather and the peacocks to dance. Arjuna remembered his brothers, but
on the god’s insistence he stayed there happily for a long time.

One day, Indra told Arjuna, ‘The time has come, son of Kunti, for you to learn dancing and singing from Chitrasena. You should master the celestial music which is unknown in the mortal world. It will do you good.’ Arjuna became friendly with this demigod and enjoyed his company. Chitrasena began instructing him in music, song and dance, but Arjuna was not always happy. On some occasions he was indeed delighted to acquire the incomparable musical arts of the gods, but on others he recalled what had transpired at the game of dice,
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and wanted to kill Shakuni and Duhshasana, and thought about his brothers and his mother Kunti.

Indra concluded that Arjuna had a glad eye for the nymph Urvashi, and called Chitrasena. He said to him privately, ‘Chief of demigods, go
today to that best of nymphs so that she presents herself before Arjuna. Just as you taught him your science at my instance after he had learnt the use of missiles, so must you arrange that he acquires experience in union with women.’

‘Very well,’ said Chitrasena, and with Indra’s permission he went to meet the beautiful Urvashi. She welcomed him and after both were comfortably seated, he said to her with a smile, ‘My beauty, please understand that I have been sent to you by the lord of the three worlds who also applauds your graces. You know Arjuna. He is recognized among gods and men for his innate merits: appearance and glory; character, resolve and restraint; strength and courage. He is brilliant and charismatic, forgiving and generous. With his competence, age and abstinence, he can protect this heaven unassisted like Indra, and the gods respect him for this. He deserves to have the fruit of paradise, and Indra commands, fair one, that you go to him and do whatever will give him pleasure with you.’

Urvashi was pleased to be thus addressed, for she considered it a great honour. Smiling at Chitrasena, she replied, ‘What little you have said about his merits is certainly true. After hearing of it I am already drawn to the man. What more can I say? Indra’s orders and your affection have aroused a passion for Arjuna within me. I will gladly visit him as desired.’

The demigod had done his work and Urvashi sent him off with an innocent look. Eager to visit Arjuna, she then bathed and adorned herself with bright, charming ornaments and a fragrant garland. Kama’s arrow had already pierced her heart and lit a flame within it for Arjuna. Her mind now dwelt on making love with him on the best and biggest of beds spread with heavenly sheets.

As the moon arose and spread its light, Urvashi emerged from her house and proceeded to Arjuna’s residence. Her long, soft and wavy hair was dressed with lily blossoms. Her face, with its tender radiance and beautiful eyebrows,
outshone the moon. Her lovely bosom, brushed with divine powders, and gleaming with a necklace, trembled as she went. Her waist was marked with three splendid folds. Below it shone her faultless hips under a diaphanous skirt. Plump and prominent, embellished with a girdle string, they were a temple of Kama, a disturber of the minds even of celestial sages.

The soles of Urvashi’s feet and her toes were tinted red. Little bells tinkled on her arched, well-fleshed ankles. With languid grace and the voluptuous look of satisfaction such as after a small drink, she was indeed an eyeful. Her figure draped in a cloud-coloured cloak of fine material, she seemed like a shaft of moonlight as she walked, a wonderful sight even for the sages and demigods of heaven. Moving like the wind’s flow, this nymph of the innocent smile reached Arjuna’s mansion within moments and was announced by the gatekeepers.

It was with some uncertainty that Arjuna appeared before her that night. On seeing her,
he modestly lowered his gaze and greeted her with the ceremony due to an elder. ‘O best of nymphs,’ he said, ‘I greet you with bowed head. What is your command, my lady? I am here to carry it out.’

The words left Urvashi somewhat stunned. ‘Best of men,’ she said, ‘I will tell you what Chitrasena said to me, which brought me here. The great Indra had arranged a festival in this splendid place for your visit. It was attended by all the gods, sages and semi-divine beings, who sat here shining like the sun and the moon in their glory. The demigods played wonderful music on their lutes and all the leading nymphs danced at that time. But you, Arjuna, looked only at me, and it was with an unblinking stare.

‘At the end of the festival,’ Urvashi continued, ‘all the gods left with your father’s permission for their homes, and so did the nymphs, the best as well as the rest. Thereafter Chitrasena came to me on Indra’s order. “Excellent one!” he said to me, “I have been sent to you by the king of
the gods. Do what will please Arjuna. It will be good for me, and also for you. He is worthy, meritorious, generous and the equal of Indra in battle. Lady of the lovely hips, pleasure him!”

‘So I have come to you, conqueror of enemies, to serve you as ordered by your father. I am filled with desire for you as your qualities have drawn my heart to you. This is something I have wanted since long.’

Arjuna was deeply embarrassed at these words. Covering both his ears with his hands, he said, ‘It really pains me to hear what you say, noble lady. For me you are like the wives of my elders. As to me are the great Kunti, and Shachi, the consort of Indra, so are you, blessed one. There is no question about it. As for my gazing at you so markedly on that occasion, there was a reason for it which I will tell you truthfully. Listen. My eyes lit up on seeing you there for I thought: “This is the joyous mother of our Puru line.”
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You must not think anything otherwise, for as the augmenter of our line, you are the most
venerable of its elders.’

‘You should not consider me an elder, brave son of Indra,’ replied Urvashi. ‘We celestial nymphs are all accessible to everyone. Many descendents of your Puru line, patrilineal as well matrilineal, have come here after their earthly penances and enjoyed us without committing any transgression. So, be relaxed. I want you, and I am suffering, indeed burning, for you. Take me!’

‘O beautiful and faultless one!’ said Arjuna, ‘listen to what I must tell you. This is the truth. May all quarters of the compass and their deities hear it too. As are Kunti, Madri and Shachi to me, so are you: the mother of our line and my elder. I place my head at your feet, best of nymphs, but go! I respect you like a mother and you should protect me like a son.’

Urvashi almost fainted with anger. With eyebrows upraised, her body swaying, she cursed Arjuna. ‘I came to you myself, on your father’s order,’ she cried, ‘but you made me unwelcome, even though I was stricken by love’s arrow. So
will you live in disgrace, Arjuna: among women as a dancer, a eunuch, carrying on like one of that kind.’ And, with quivering lips and deep sighs, she promptly went away.

Rushing to Chitrasena, Arjuna recounted to him all that had happened with Urvashi that evening, repeatedly mentioning her curse. Chitrasena informed Indra who called his son and consoled him in private. ‘My boy,’ he said with a smile, ‘you have made Kunti the mother of an admirable son today. Your steadfastness has surpassed even that of the sages. Urvashi’s curse will help you when you must live anonymously in the thirteenth year of your exile. After spending that time as a dancer and eunuch, you will once more regain your manhood.’ This reassurance pleased Arjuna immensely, relieving him of the worry caused by the curse, and he spent the rest of his time in paradise quite happily.

From Mahābhārata, Vana Parva, 3.33.16–61