0069. The Lord Krishna and the Lapwing's Nest

From Cradle Tales of Hinduism by Sister Nivedita, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. In the Markandeya Purana, there is a story about birds kept safe under a bell, but with no mention of Krishna's role. Because the birds were present for the great battle, they were able to share stories of the battle later on with the sage Jaimini.

Summary: This story takes place on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, where in the midst of battle, Krishna rescues a small mother bird and her chicks.

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THE LORD KRISHNA AND THE LAPWING'S NEST

(lapwing, OBS, Delhi)

It was the battlefield of Kurukshetra. The white conch-shells were about to sound, the elephants to march forward, and the attack of the archers to commence. The moment was brief and terrible. Banners were flying, and the charioteers preparing for the advance.

Suddenly a little lapwing, who had built her nest in the turf of a hillock in the midst of the battlefield, drew the attention of the Lord Krishna by her cries of anxiety and distress for her young.

"Poor little mother!" He said tenderly; "let this be thy protection!" and, lifting a great elephant-bell that had fallen near, He placed it over the lapwing's nest.

And so, through the eighteen days of raging battle that followed, a lapwing and her nestlings were kept in safety in their nest, by the mercy of the Lord, even in the midst of the raging field of Kurukshetra.

0068. The Golden Mongoose

From Stories for Young Children from Hindu Sacred Books. No author is listed, but the book was published by the Board of Trustees of Central Hindu College in Benares. Online at: Hathi Trust.

Notes. This is a famous scene from the Mahabharata, after the great war, when Yudhishthira is being installed as king. You can find out more at Wikipedia: The fable of the mongoose.

Summary: A golden mongoose tells Yudhshthira the story of a brahmin and his family who showed hospitality to a hungry guest even during a time of famine.

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THE GOLDEN MONGOOSE

(illustrated Mahabharata)

Once upon a time King Yudhishthira made a great sacrifice, and the cups and the vessels and the arches and the stakes, everything, was of gold. It was very grand and a great many people were there.

A little Mongoose was present also, and half his body was of gold.

People asked him: "How is it that half your body is of gold? Tell us the reason."

And the Mongoose said: "I will tell you, for all this gold that is here, all these gems and money, are not of so much value as one small measure of powdered barley."

There was once a Brahmana who had made a vow that he would only eat the food that he could gather in the fields. This Brahmana lived with his wife and son and daughter-in-law. At one time there was a terrible famine in the land. Very few grains were left by the threshers, there was very little to be gathered, and the Brahmana and his family could only get one very small meal a day. They became thinner and thinner till at last they were almost like skeletons.

One day the Brahmana had found a little barley, and his wife ground it and divided it into four portions, so that they might each have a share. They were very glad, and sat down to eat.

Just as they were going to begin a guest stood in the doorway. The Brahmana got up quickly and brought him in, and gave him water to wash with and made him sit down. He then put before the guest his own small share of food, and the guest ate it. It was a very small portion, and when the guest had finished he was still hungry.

Then the wife placed her portion of food in the hand of the Brahmana, so that he might give that to the guest, that he might be satisfied. The Brahmana did not like to take it, for he knew how weak his wife was, and he said: "O mother of my son, do thou keep the food and eat," but she would not, for she would not have a guest hungry in her house. The guest therefore ate her share, but he was still hungry and wanted more.

Then the son brought his little heap of grain, and the Brahmana was sad for the hunger of his son, yet gave the food to his guest. But alas! Even then the guest was still hungry.

Then the son’s young wife brought her share also, and held it out to the Brahmana that he might give that also. "Not yours, my little one, not yours," he said, for she was so young and feeble.

But she pressed him to give saying: "O my father, and father of my son’s father, let me share in your good deed; a guest should ever be treated as a Deva, give him this my food." Therefore the Brahmana took it from the gentle girl and gave it to his guest.

Then the guest having eaten rose up, and a bright light shone round him, and they knew that in truth he was a Deva, and he stood before them bright and beautiful.

Then the Mongoose told the people how there had been a few grains which had fallen on the ground uneaten by the great Deva. The Mongoose had rolled on these grains and as they touched his body they turned, it to gold, because of the great virtue of that gift of hospitality.

And this was why the body of the Mongoose was half golden.

0067. Ruru and Pramadvara

From Tales from the Indian Epics by C. A. Kincaid, online at: Internet Archive. (The book has illustrations by M. V. Dhurandhar, but there is not an illustration in the book for this story.)

Notes. You can read more about Ruru and Pramadvara at Wikipedia; the story is found in the Mahabharata: Adi-Pauloma Parva. You will note some similarities here between the story of Orpheus and Eurydice in Greek mythology. In the Indian tradition, compare the story of Savitri and Satyavan, where it is the wife who wins back her husband's life.

Summary: Ruru and Pramadvara are about to get married and live happily ever after, when disaster strikes in the form of a snake.

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RURU AND PRAMADVARA

(Pramadavara and the snake)

The origins of Ruru and of Pramadvara

Now Vrigu's son Chyavana had a wife named Sukanya and Sukanya begat in turn Pramati, and Pramati had a son whom he called Ruru. 

Not many years after Ruru was born it happened that Menaka, one of the dancing girls [apsaras] in the Court of the god Indra, fell in love with Visvavasu the King of the Gandharvas. King Visvavasu returned her love and Menaka bore to him a baby daughter. To hide her marriage from the god Indra, she left the baby girl by the banks of a great river, which flowed past the hermitage of the mighty rishi Sthulokesha. Sthulokesha had a kind heart and he pitied the little baby girl, who lay helpless among the reeds of the river. He lifted her in his arms and took her to live with him in his hermitage. And because she was the daughter of an immortal mother she surpassed in beauty all the daughters of men. But she was not lovely in face alone. Her heart was full of goodness and she loved the rishi Sthulokesha as if he had been her father. And because of her many virtues and of her love for him Sthulokesha named her Pramadvara. 

Ruru falls in love

One day when Ruru was still a youth he wandered somewhat far into the forest. As he wandered, he suddenly saw in front of him the hermitage of the rishi Sthulokesha. And as he looked at it wondering what mighty sage lived there the beautiful Pramadvara came to the door. Instantly his heart was smitten with love for her. And going back to his father he said, "I have seen the loveliest girl in all the world and unless I wed her I shall die of love for her." 

Hearing Ruru's words and seeing his son's distress, Pramati went straight to the hermitage of Sthulokesha that stood in the heart of the forest. Bowing respectfully to the great rishi, Pramati addressed him saying, "Venerable Sir, my son Ruru has reached the age for marriage. Wandering through the woods he came to your hermitage and, seeing your daughter Pramadvara, was smitten with love for her. I have therefore come to beg you to give her in marriage to my son." 

Sthulokesha received Pramati with all honour and told him the story of Pramadvara's birth. Pramati heard the tale but still pressed for her marriage to his son. So Sthulokesha consented and he and Pramati betrothed Ruru to Pramadvara and appointed a day for their marriage, when the stars favourable to the youth and maiden were high in the heavens. 

The crisis

But a few weeks before the day appointed for the ceremony, the beautiful Pramadvara was playing with some fair maidens of her own age near Sthulokesha's hermitage. In a bush near by lay a poisonous snake asleep. As Pramadvara ran, her foot pressed one of the snake's coils. Instantly it awoke and raising its head struck at Pramadvara, fastening its fangs in her bare foot. The poison coursed through her veins, the colour left her cheeks and she sank dying to the ground like a lily struck by the sun. 

Sthulokesha was well-nigh mad with grief when he heard of the maiden's death. Pramati, too, sorrowed much. But Ruru grieved more even than Sthulokesha, because his love for Pramadvara was the greatest. Praying to the Immortals he recited his charities and his penances, his virtues and his austerities, that they might feel pity and restore to him the bride whom he so desired. 

As he prayed he saw a kingly figure come towards him from the forest. As the stranger drew near he said to Ruru, " O noble-minded youth, I am a messenger of the Immortals. They have noted your many good works and your pure life and they pity you deeply. But one whose span of life is ended cannot be saved from death. Pramadvara had lived the full number of her destined years. The gods, therefore, cannot bring her back to life. But if you, O Ruru, give up half your life to Pramadvara the gods will bring her back to you and you will live happily together." 

Ruru's heart leapt with joy when he heard the words of the messenger of the Immortals. "O herald of the gods,' he cried, "gladly will I give half my allotted span of life that Pramadvara may live again and be my bride." 

When the messenger of the Immortals heard Ruru's reply he vanished into the skies that he might tell it to the gods who had sent him. Ruru left the spot and hastened to where Pramadvara's body lay, to see if she lived or was dead. 

Pramadvara revived and Ruru's revenge

As he came close to her he saw that she still lay without motion. But a faint colour seemed to grow in her cheeks and on her pale lips. Her eyelashes began faintly to quiver. At last, waking up as if from a deep sleep, she opened her eyes and, seeing Ruru near her, smiled softly at him. 

Then Ruru told Sthulokesha and Pramati that Pramadvara had come back to life. And Sthulokesha and Pramati were overjoyed, and when the appointed day came, they joined the youth and maiden together in wedlock. 

But because a snake had bitten the lovely maiden whom Ruru loved better than life itself, he hated from that day the whole race of snakes. And whenever he saw a snake in the grass or the woods he either struck it with his staff or cut it in pieces with his sword. 

Ruru and the rock snake

One day, when Ruru was wandering through a dense part of the forest, he saw an old rock snake lying on the ground. Instantly he raised his staff to strike it. But the rock snake cried to him with a human voice, "Great sage, I have done you no hurt. Why are you angry with me and why do you seek my life?" 

"My beloved wife," answered Ruru, "was once killed by a snake. I vowed, therefore, in my anger that I would slay every snake I saw. Therefore, O snake, prepare yourself for death, for I shall surely kill you." 

"Venerable Sir," said the rock snake piteously, "I am not a poisonous snake. Rock snakes are but snakes in name for they cannot kill men even if they wish. Therefore we do not share the guilt of the snake people for the death of your wife. And it is your duty not to kill but to spare me." 

Ruru looked closely at the rock snake and seeing that it had no poison fangs felt pity for it. He dropped his staff to his side and said, "O snake, tell me, I pray you, who you are. For you speak as a human being and I think you were once a man." 

"Great sage, what you say is true. Once I was a youth of your own years and by caste a Brahman. My name was Shahasrapata. But an angry wizard cursed me and thus changed my shape." 

Then Ruru said, "Pray tell me, good snake, the tale of your ill fortune." 

The snake's story

"Venerable Sir," answered Shahasrapata, "I had a friend named Khagama. We played and grew up together. But whereas I took a joy in the pleasures of life, Khagama studied the works of the great rishis and by bitter penances attained their powers. One day when I returned home I saw Khagama plunged in meditation. Out of malice, I plaited together some strands of grass until they had the appearance of a snake. Going on tiptoe behind Khagama I placed the plaited grass upon his shoulder. Looking round with a start he saw, as he thought, a venomous snake upon his shoulder and he fainted with fear. Then I mocked him because he had feared a strand of plaited grass, until his fury was roused against me. 'Shahasrapata,' he said , 'you frightened me with a mock harmless serpent, so become now a mock harmless serpent yourself, to frighten others.' Then, great sage, I repented of what I had done and joining my hands I bowed low before Khagama. 'I am your friend,' I pleaded; 'I meant no harm. I only wished to make you laugh. Take back your curse from me.' Khagama saw that I truly repented. But he said, 'O Shahasrapata, what I have said must happen. And a rock snake you must become. But when Ruru the son of Pramati appears to you, you will once more assume human form.' Therefore, O sage, I became a rock snake. But as you, Ruru, the son of Pramati, have appeared to me I shall once more become human." 

And as Shahasrapata spoke, Ruru saw him change swiftly into human form. 

When he had once more become a man he said to Ruru, "The highest morality, O sage, is this: destroy no life. Therefore do not wage war any more on the snake people. But spend your days in peace, enjoying the beauty of Pramadvara." 

When Shahasrapata had spoken thus he left Ruru and went to his own home. Ruru retraced his steps to his hermitage. And giving up the slaughter of the snake people, he passed the remaining years of his life in great happiness with Pramadvara.

0063. The Sun's Gifts

From Indian Fables and Folklore by Shovona Devi, online at: Hathi Trust.

Notes. You can read more about the sage Jamadagni and the sun god, Surya, at Wikipedia. You can read an ancient version of this story in the Mahabharata.

Summary: A powerful sage challenges the Sun when the Sun's heat bothers the sage's wife.

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THE GIFTS OF THE SUN

(Surya - Wikimedia)

Once upon a time there was a mighty Sage of the name of Jamadagni, dreaded alike of Gods and mortals. "Let us take the bow and spend an hour in archery, O Reunka," said Jamadagni to his wife one morning. The Brahmani gladly consented, for it always gave her pleasure to fall in with the wishes of her husband.

Jamadagni tucked up the sleeves of his garment of bark (the material worn by all Sages before the art of weaving was invented), and fetched a bow and an arrow. "Get ready, my dear wife," said the Sage, fixing the arrow to the bow. "Yonder tree shall be our target. Let us shoot the arrow at the tree by turns."

Jamadagni shot at the tree, and Reunka ran to the tree, picked up the arrow, and brought it back to her husband. This she went on doing for a time, while the Sun rose higher and the heat increased.

"O my dear husband," cried Reunka, "the sand is burning my feet, and the Sun is burning my head, and I have not the strength to bring back the arrow again."

Jamadagni had by this time grown interested in the game, and did not relish the idea of having to give it up so soon. He went up to the tree himself, picked up the arrow, and then, fixing it to the bow, pointed it skywards, crying aloud, "How dare you, O Sun, molest my wife in her pastime? Moderate your rays so as to make them bearable to her, or this arrow flies at you and brings you down."

The Sun was frightened, but he mustered up sufficient courage to say to the irate Sage, "O Jamadagni, restrain thy wrath! I cannot control my fiery horses before eventide; but I have that which will protect the head and feet of thy spouse. Here is a parasol and a dainty pair of slippers for her."

Reunka put on the slippers, and the sand no longer burnt her feet. She spread out the parasol over her head, and the Sun no longer burnt her head; and merrily she went on with her sport.

Such is the myth of the origin of parasols and shoes, the gifts of the Sun.