67. Katha Sarit Sagara : Chapter 2
The Weight of the Curse and the Vision of the Mother
1. Vararuchi's Life as a Man and Visit to Durga's Shrine:
The celestial court missed the sparkle of Pushpadanta, the witty, insightful Gana of Lord Shiva. His pride had cost him his divinity, and now he wandered the mortal plane as the man Vararuchi, known also as Kátyáyana, a name synonymous with intellectual brilliance. His mind, though stripped of its divine memories, remained a formidable instrument. King Nanda's court was Vararuchi's stage, and he played the role of chief minister with flawless expertise, perfecting the sciences of administration and statecraft. He commanded wealth, respect, and power in the thriving city of Pátaliputra.
Yet, for all his earthly success, a profound, nameless sorrow shadowed him. It was a gnawing emptiness, a subtle ache deep in his soul—the phantom limb of a divine existence he could not recall. The intricate dance of court politics and the pursuit of gold ultimately tasted like dust.
"I am weary, my Lord," he confessed one dawn to his faithful servant, though he knew not the 'Lord' to whom he spoke. "This earthly perfection is but a beautiful cage."
He renounced his duties, seeking penance and peace. His heart, driven by an instinct older than his mortal body, led him away from the plains and toward the wild heights where the Great Mother was worshipped. Vararuchi undertook a long, arduous pilgrimage to the mountain retreat of Durga, the embodiment of primal energy and compassion. Days turned into weeks of stark austerities. He subsisted on air and will, meditating upon the cold, sacred stone, hoping to wash away the unnamed burden that crushed his spirit.
2. Durga's Directive and Vararuchi's Journey to Vindhya:
One freezing night, the air around the small, silent shrine crackled with intense power. Vararuchi fell into a deep trance. The darkness lifted, replaced by a light so fierce and pure it felt like the essence of creation.
The Goddess Durga manifested before him, Her eight arms radiating both fierce majesty and infinite kindness. Her expression was grave, yet Her eyes held the deep love of a mother watching her troubled child.
"My son, Vararuchi," Her voice was a symphony of thunder and silk, resonating within his very bones. "Your devotion is a beacon, and your austerities have purified the path you must take. But you seek stillness in the wrong place. Your path to liberation is not through this isolation, but through an act of reunion and revelation."
Vararuchi knelt, unable to speak, tears streaming down his face at the sheer force of Her presence.
"Listen closely," She commanded. "You must venture now to the wild heart of the Vindhya mountains. The jungle holds a soul bound by a curse, a being known as Kánabhuti. You must seek him out, for he holds the key to the lock you cannot see. Go, and fulfill the destiny written for you and for others."
The vision vanished, leaving only the biting mountain chill and the lingering scent of jasmine and war. Vararuchi arose, his exhaustion forgotten, replaced by a surge of purposeful energy. The emptiness was gone, replaced by a sacred mission. He cast off his priestly robes, took only a begging bowl and staff, and turned his face toward the rugged, hostile south. He knew now that his journey was not a search for solace, but a quest for memory.
The Great Goblin and the Cosmic Secret
3. The Encounter with Kánabhuti:
The Vindhya region was a maze of raw, untamed earth—a realm of Piśáchas (goblins) and beasts. Vararuchi pressed on, his clothes torn by thorny thickets, his throat parched by the sun that baked the stone and sand. This was a land of tigers that roared in the oppressive heat and apes that chattered like mocking spirits.
Finally, in the heart of that waterless savagery, he found an anomaly: a colossal, dark Nyagrodha (Banyan) tree, its roots forming gnarled thrones. Beneath its vast, ancient shadow, the air was heavy with a chaotic, unsettling power.
He saw them: a shrieking, contorted crowd of a hundred minor Piśáchas, their bodies grotesque and their eyes shining with malice. And at their center, their lord. He was Kánabhuti, a terrifying figure, vast and powerful, his stature like a towering Śála tree. His skin was the color of bruised earth, and his form was the living embodiment of a powerful curse.
Vararuchi, the mortal man, walked straight into the demonic circle.
Kánabhuti, instead of reacting with hostility, froze. His enormous eyes, which had been rolling in madness, fixed on the approaching man. He recognized a light—a faint, yet undeniable, celestial aura—that shone through the man’s mortal flesh. He let out a strange, choked sound, a mix of relief and despair. Before his own Piśáchas could react, Kánabhuti dropped with a crash to his colossal knees, his massive, dark hands reverently clasped the dust-covered feet of the scholar.
Vararuchi sat down immediately, utterly calm amidst the terrified silence of the surrounding goblins. "You possess a profound sense of good custom, for one bound to such a fearsome state," he observed, his voice steady. "Tell me, friend, how did you, a soul clearly of noble origin, come to wear this dark Piśácha form?"
4. Kánabhuti Recounts Śiva's Story to Durgá:
Kánabhuti, humbled and emotionally overwhelmed, could barely speak. "My lord, you show kindness to a creature of darkness. I do not know the story of myself, but I know the story that explains me. Listen to what I overheard from the mouth of the great Śiva Himself! This happened long ago, in the cremation grounds of Ujjayiní, where all things return to ash. I proceed to tell it to you."
His voice grew distant, filled with the awe of the ancient memory:
It was an evening of dreadful beauty, the sky stained with the smoke of funeral pyres. Śiva, the Auspicious One, sat with His divine consort, Durgá (Párvatí).
Durgá, the tender Mother, looked at Her Lord's hands, which bore the grim relic of a human skull, and upon the ash-smeared ground beneath them. "My Lord," she asked, her voice a soft lament, "whence comes this unique delight in skulls and these desolate burning-places? You are the source of all joy; why this association with death?"
5. Śiva's Account of the Kalpa's End and the Creation of the Supreme Soul:
Śiva, the Mahadev, gazed into the distance, His eyes holding the memory of infinity. He began the cosmic tale.
"Long, long ago, when the life cycles of all existence had been consumed and destroyed, the Kalpa—the great age—came to its end. The entire universe was naught but infinite water, deep and dark."
His voice lowered, growing intimate. "In that cosmic darkness, My beloved, I cleaved My own thigh and allowed a single, precious drop of My eternal blood to fall. That drop, descending into the dark water, instantly turned into a colossal cosmic egg. From that shining egg sprang the Supreme Soul, the Disposer of all things. From Him proceeded Nature (Prakriti), whom I created so that further creation could begin. They, in turn, created the other lords of created beings—the primary deities—and those deities then created all the life that fills your sight. It is for this reason, My love, that this Supreme Soul is revered in all worlds as the grandfather of creation."
6. Śiva's Difficult Vow and the Skull:
Śiva’s expression hardened, reflecting a deep, ancient moment of crisis.
"However, the Spirit, having created the world, both animate and inanimate, became inflated with unbearable arrogance. He forgot his source; He claimed the creation as purely his own. He challenged My authority."
A chill swept through Kánabhuti’s recollection. "I was compelled to administer justice," Śiva said, His voice grim. "Thereupon, I cut off His head."
Párvatí had gasped at the revelation, her face pale even in the glow of the pyre.
"Regret, My beloved, followed My necessary act," Śiva confessed, His voice filled with millennia of sorrow. "To atone for taking a life that was part of Myself, I undertook a most difficult vow. It is for this penance that I perpetually carry a skull in My hand and find solace in these burning-grounds, places where all pride is ultimately consumed."
He pointed to the sky and the earth. "Moreover, this world itself, with its two skull-shaped halves—heaven and earth—is but a single, vast skull that rests eternally within My hand, symbolizing My ultimate sovereignty over life and death."
The Fateful Prophecy
7. Durgá Inquires About Pushpadanta's Return:
Kánabhuti, shivering as the memory coursed through him, continued his tale. When Śiva’s cosmic explanation was finished, Párvatí brought the conversation back to the personal, to the banished Gana. Her compassion was clear.
"Maheśvara," she said, her tone filled with tender longing, "after how long a time will that poor Pushpadanta—our beloved attendant—be released from his mortal exile and return to our presence?"
8. Śiva Reveals Kánabhuti's Curse and the Condition for Release:
Śiva smiled, a profound, all-knowing smile, and then, to the absolute terror of the Yaksha hiding in the corner, He raised His hand and pointed straight at Kánabhuti.
"Look at that Piśácha whom you behold there," Śiva instructed His wife. "He was once a Yaksha, a devoted servant to Kuvera, the God of Wealth. This Yaksha had the misfortune of befriending a truly evil Rákshasa named Sthúlaśiras. Kuvera, perceiving the corrupting influence of that friendship, banished the Yaksha to these very wilds of the Vindhya mountains."
The deity of wealth, however, had been petitioned by the Yaksha’s brother, Dírghajangha, who humbly asked for the duration of the curse.
"Kuvera, in His mercy, ordained the terms of the release," Śiva explained. "The curse will terminate only after this Yaksha hears the Great Tale (Brihatkatha) from the lips of the exiled Pushpadanta—who is now born on earth as a man due to his curse. And in turn, the Yaksha must relate that same tale to Mályaván, another Gana who has also fallen to a human birth owing to a curse."
Śiva concluded, looking tenderly at Párvatí, "Once he has faithfully performed this act of transmission, he, Pushpadanta, and Mályaván shall all be released from the effects of their curses and restored to Us. You, My beloved, fixed the same condition for Pushpadanta’s release. Recall it to mind."
9. Vararuchi/Pushpadanta Remembers His Origin:
Kánabhuti finished the divine speech and sighed, a sound like wind rushing through a chasm. "When I heard that, I knew! I came here, overjoyed and waiting for the arrival of the one who would end my curse."
The moment the tale ended, the mortal shell around Vararuchi seemed to fall away. The truth flooded his consciousness. The deep sorrow, the nameless ache, solidified into a brilliant, crushing memory.
"I am that very Pushpadanta!" Vararuchi/Kátyáyana exclaimed, leaping up, his face radiant with spiritual light, like a man awakened from a deep, long-forgotten sleep. "You have heard the cosmic preamble; now, hear the Great Tale from me!"
10. The Great Tale is Related and Kánabhuti's Request:
And so, beneath the colossal banyan tree, the extraordinary scene unfolded: the exiled divine minister, now fully remembering his identity as Pushpadanta, sat before the immense, rapt Piśácha. Vararuchi narrated the seven great tales—the Brihatkatha—in seven hundred thousand meticulously structured verses. He spoke for days, pouring out the essence of the universe, the very knowledge that had caused his arrogance and subsequent fall.
When Vararuchi finally ceased, Kánabhuti’s massive body was shaking. His dark face was wet with tears of relief and adoration.
"My lord," he choked out, bowing so low his head scraped the earth. "You are more than Pushpadanta; you are an emanation of Śiva Himself! Who else in the three worlds, save the Lord, could know this story? Through your boundless favor, this vile curse has almost entirely abandoned my body!"
He looked up, a fierce urgency in his eyes. "But I need more. Sanctify me further, mighty one! Tell me, from your mortal birth to this moment, your own history. Your full life story. Reveal it to me—your early struggle, your education—if such a narrative may be revealed to a creature as cursed as I am."
Vararuchi smiled, a genuine, warm smile that Pushpadanta had not worn in ages. "To gratify you, Kánabhuti, and to complete this process of purification, I shall tell all."
The Making of the Genius
11. Vararuchi's Birth and Early Life in Kauśámbí:
"I was born in the city of Kauśámbí," Vararuchi began, his voice taking on the tone of a bard recalling a precious memory. "My father was an excellent Bráhman named Somadatta, also known by the title Agniśikha. He was a man of great piety, but limited means."
"My mother was Vasudattá, a woman of profound grace and strength, the daughter of a hermit. She, too, had been born into this humble position in consequence of a curse, as was I. We were two souls burdened by fate."
He sighed. "My father died when I was still quite a small child, leaving my mother in dire straits. She was fiercely devoted, supporting me as I grew up through constant, severe drudgery. She sacrificed everything so that I might live and learn."
12. The Test of Vararuchi's Extraordinary Memory:
One sweltering evening, two weary Bráhmans sought shelter in our modest dwelling. They were covered in the dust of a long, punishing journey. As they rested, the distant, vibrant noise of a tabor (drum) and music drifted from a nearby celebration.
My mother began to weep quietly, calling my name. "There, my son! That is your father’s dear friend, Bhavananda, giving a dramatic entertainment! How I wish I could see it, but I cannot leave this house."
I, a boy barely old enough to see over the cooking pot, stood straight and spoke without a hint of doubt. "I will go, Mother, and I will see it all. And when I return, I shall perform the entire play for you, with a flawless recitation of every speech, every nuance."
The two Bráhmans, Vyáḍi and Indradatta, stared at me, astonished by my absurd confidence.
My mother, wiping her tears, turned to them with fierce maternal pride. "Gentlemen, do not be surprised. There is no doubt in the truth of what he says. My boy will remember by heart everything that he has heard only once."
Vyáḍi, skeptical but intrigued, decided to test this boast immediately. He and Indradatta recited a complex and obscure Vedic treatise—a Prátiśákhya—to me. The words, filled with intricate rules, flowed from their lips. The moment they finished, I repeated the entire text, syllable for syllable, without a single error.
The Bráhmans exchanged looks of utter shock and sudden, desperate hope. I then went to see Bhavananda's play. Upon my return, I performed the entire drama—gestures, voices, and dialogue—perfectly for my mother.
13. Vyáḍi and Indradatta's Journey to Acquire Knowledge:
Vyáḍi, his hands now folded in deep reverence, turned to my mother. "We must tell you our history, lady. It connects directly to your son."
He explained that he and Indradatta were cousins, sons of two loving Bráhman brothers in the city of Vetasa. "My name is Vyáḍi, and this is my cousin, Indradatta." Their father died, and soon after, Indradatta's father perished from grief. Their two mothers' hearts broke, and they soon followed.
"We were orphans, though we still possessed wealth," Vyáḍi recounted, his voice tinged with the sadness of their past. "But wealth is useless without wisdom. We yearned for knowledge and embarked on a pilgrimage to the south, engaging in fierce austerities to supplicate the great warrior god, Kártikeya."
14. The Search for Varsha and Meeting His Wife:
"The god appeared to us in a dream," Vyáḍi continued, his voice regaining its hopeful intensity. "'There is a city called Pátaliputra, the capital of King Nanda. Seek out a Bráhman there named Varsha. He will be your teacher, and from him, you shall learn all knowledge. Go there now.'"
They had rushed to Pátaliputra, only to be met with mockery. When they asked for Varsha, people laughed. "You seek the Bráhman Varsha? He is nothing but the village blockhead!"
They pressed on, their minds suspended between the god's divine command and the people's scorn. They found Varsha’s house—a heartbreaking spectacle. It was a miserable hut, neglected and dilapidated, its walls cracking, made a very "ant-hill" by scurrying mice. It truly looked like the genesis of all misery and poverty.
Inside, Varsha sat, plunged into deep, silent meditation.
They approached his wife, who, despite her utter poverty, showed them all proper hospitality. She was emaciated, her dress tattered and begrimed, an embodiment of suffering, yet her eyes shone with a quiet virtue that suggested a deeper strength.
Bowing humbly, they told her the god's command and the contradictory report of her husband's imbecility that they had heard in the city.
15. Varsha's Wife Explains Her Husband's Story:
Varsha's wife sighed, the sound heavy with years of struggle. "My children, I am not ashamed of my truth. Listen, and I will relate the full story."
She told them that Varsha and his younger brother, Upavarsha, were the sons of the excellent Bráhman Śankara Svámin. Varsha was naturally dull-witted and perpetually poor. Upavarsha, his brother, was the brilliant and wealthy success. To compound their poverty, Upavarsha appointed his own wife to manage the affairs of his elder brother's house, a deep humiliation.
Then came the rainy season, she explained, during which a traditional, deeply insulting custom occurred. Women would fashion a cake of flour and molasses into an "unbecoming and disgusting shape" and present it to any Bráhman considered a blockhead. The custom was believed to remove discomfort, but Bráhmans universally refused the cake as a profound disgrace.
16. Varsha's Austerities and Attainment of Divine Knowledge:
"My sister-in-law, Upavarsha's wife, presented this insulting cake to my husband, along with the sacrificial fee," Varsha's wife confessed, her voice thick with residual anger. "He, in his innocence, received it and brought it home! I gave him a severe scolding for his lack of dignity."
"That moment broke his spirit," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He began to be internally consumed by grief and profound shame at his own stupidity. He left, resolved to end his life or his ignorance. He went to worship the sole of the foot of the god Kártikeya."
She looked up, a radiant joy now transforming her gaunt features. "The god, pleased with his fierce austerities, appeared to him and bestowed upon him the knowledge of all the sciences! My husband returned home, delighted, and told me the whole story."
17. Kártikeya's Condition for Varsha to Teach:
"But Kártikeya gave him a strict order," she stated, her tone shifting to one of reverence. "He commanded: 'When thou findest a Bráhman who possesses the capacity to recollect what he has heard only once, then and only then mayest thou reveal these great sciences.'"
Since that day, her husband had remained in meditation, awaiting the sign from the god, continually muttering prayers and holding the knowledge captive. "So, you must find that uniquely gifted person and bring him here," she concluded. "If you do this, you will both assuredly obtain all that you seek."
18. Vyáḍi and Indradatta Recruit Vararuchi:
"Hearing this story from Varsha's chaste wife, we were convinced of the god's plan," Vyáḍi said, his relief immense. "We immediately gave her a hundred gold pieces to relieve her dire poverty and left the city."
He paused, a look of utter desperation in his eyes. "We wandered the entire earth for months, Mother, searching, hoping, but we could not find anywhere a person who possessed the gift of retaining knowledge on a single hearing! At last, we arrived tired out at your house today."
He gestured to me, Vararuchi. "And here, in this humble home, we have found him! Your son, who passed our test flawlessly! Therefore, we beg you, give him to us. He is the commodity of knowledge we have been commanded to acquire, and we are ready to pay the price."
19. Vararuchi's Mother Confirms the Prophecy and Gives Consent:
My mother, Vasudattá, smiled, her respect for the two earnest seekers clear. "All that you have spoken tallies completely with destiny," she said softly, nodding. "I repose full confidence in your tale, for long ago, at the birth of this my only child, a distinct spiritual voice was heard speaking clearly from heaven."
She lowered her gaze, recalling the sacred moment. "The voice spoke: 'A boy has been born who shall be able to remember what he has heard once. He shall acquire knowledge from Varsha, and shall make the science of grammar famous in the world. He shall be called Vararuchi by name, because whatever is excellent shall please him.'"
"The voice ceased after uttering this prophecy," she finished. "Consequently, as my son grew, I have thought day and night where that teacher Varsha could be found. Today, I have been granted exceeding gratification at hearing it from your own mouths."
She took my hands in hers, her eyes shining with both sorrow and fulfillment. "Therefore, take him with you. He is your brother in this sacred pursuit, and I dare not impede the command of the gods."
20. The Departure and Commencement of Studies:
Vyáḍi and Indradatta were overcome with profound joy. They felt that night was but a moment in length, so eager were they for the dawn. Vyáḍi, demonstrating his sincerity, quickly gave all his remaining wealth to my mother for her future upkeep. Then, to qualify me for the task ahead, he performed the sacred rites and invested me with the Bráhmanical thread.
The departure was painful. My mother, taking her leave, struggled mightily to suppress her tears. I, too, felt the crushing grief of separation but managed to control my emotions through my own strong fortitude and the knowledge of the divine purpose ahead.
Vyáḍi and Indradatta led me away rapidly from Kauśámbí. They felt that the grace of Kártikeya toward them had finally put forth its blossoming flower.
21. The Divine Teaching and the Students' Varying Abilities:
In due course, we arrived at the home of the teacher Varsha in Pátaliputra. He welcomed us, his face radiating wisdom and patience, and he saw me as the tangible manifestation of Kártikeya's favor.
The next day, the great work began. Varsha placed us in front of him, sitting in a spot consecrated for study. He closed his eyes and began to recite the eternal syllable, Om, in a sublime, heavenly voice.
Immediately, miraculously, the Vedas and the six supplementary sciences rushed fully into his mind. The god's boon was fully activated. He began to teach.
The difference in our capacities was immediately evident:
I, Vararuchi, retained the teacher's every word and concept after hearing it only once.
Vyáḍi required hearing the lesson twice to fully grasp and retain it.
Indradatta required hearing the lesson three times to achieve mastery.
22. Varsha Gains Recognition from the Citizens and King Nanda:
The divine sound of the recitation, amplified by Varsha’s miraculous knowledge, was heard by all. The learned Bráhmans of Pátaliputra, drawn by the sudden, magnificent sound, came rushing from all quarters, their breasts stirring with wonder. They honored Varsha with deep bows and praised his divine transformation, their reverend mouths loud with astonishment.
The miracle was infectious. Not only his formerly dismissive brother, Upavarsha, but all the citizens of Pátaliputra kept high festival, celebrating Varsha's astonishing rise from blockhead to sage.
Moreover, the powerful King Nanda, hearing of the supreme power of the boon bestowed by the son of Śiva, was delighted. He showed Varsha every mark of respect and immediately filled the Bráhman's formerly miserable house with immense wealth.
Thus, Kánabhuti, my human life became complete: beginning with a curse, achieving the knowledge for which the curse was required, and finally returning to the original memory through the fulfillment of a prophecy.
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