I am reading J Frazer's 'The Golden Bough' and am totally caught in the web of magic, myth and mystery that he has put down in such detail. Of kings and priests, of trees and tree spirits, of goddesses and their lovers...all ancient civilisations were so rich and detailed in their practice of religion that it seems kind of a waste to let it all die out.
Dont get me wrong. Some of it had to. Thank god, we no longer kill our kings (or rulers/presidents/prime ministers), a year into their monarchy!! Or punish women for their husbands'lack of fishing skills -- some communities believed that if a man went out to fish and caught none, it was because his wife had been unfaithful!!
Naturally it would be disastrous to turn back the clock to such a horrific time in our history. What would be interesting however would be to know more, understand why these things were so commonly believed and followed among people living as far apart as India and Finland. What was it that tied our myths together? And what was it that kept them apart?
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Aesirs and Vanirs
According to Norse myth, the mountainous regions of Asgard were once home to the principal gods or the Aesirs. A clan of warriors, the Aesir pantheon has gods like Odin, Thor, Baldyr and Tyr. They were tall, blue eyed and blonde haired and were known for their prowess with the axe and the sword.
The Aesirs were in constant battle with the Vanirs, a Nordic clan; also believed by some to be an older family of gods. The Vanirs were peace loving and agricultural while the Aesirs were always ready for a fight
The conflict between Aesirs and Vanirs is central to Nordic mythology. Some interpret this as a fight for supremacy between two tribes. Others believe that the Vanirs were an older cult that was forced to flee when faced with a warrior clan like the Aesirs.
It is not possible to pick one theory over the other simply because we don’t know fact from fiction. Like most myths, these too are short of documentary evidence or proof. But that is not issue really. What is interesting is that the Norse legends tell us about the way Aesirs and Vanirs interacted with each other. They fought over land, over women and for moral supremacy.
The myths tell us about the qualities that the tribes held dear and it indicates the compulsions behind the migratory nature of most ancient civilisations. According to one story, Iounn was the Aesir god of youth and beauty and held in high regard by the clan. Once, she was abducted by the giants and the Aesirs found themselves ageing like the normal folk. Iounn was rescued by Loki the trickster who changed his form and flew her back to the kingdom of Aesirs.
These myths make me wonder whether the Aesirs and Vanirs of Norse tales are even remotely connected to the Asur and Vanar in Indian mythology? Or are Aesir, Ahura and Asur part of the same family of myths?
Mircea Eliade, the well known Romanian scholar of comparative religions better known in India for his autobiographical novel, Maitreyi (a fictionalised account of his relationship with Bengali writer Maitreyi Devi) has said that the conflict between Aesirs and Vanirs reflect Indo-European myths of conflict between the gods of the sky and the gods of the earth.
Is it possible that we have more than just a name in common between Nordic and Vedic mythologies?
The Aesirs were in constant battle with the Vanirs, a Nordic clan; also believed by some to be an older family of gods. The Vanirs were peace loving and agricultural while the Aesirs were always ready for a fight
The conflict between Aesirs and Vanirs is central to Nordic mythology. Some interpret this as a fight for supremacy between two tribes. Others believe that the Vanirs were an older cult that was forced to flee when faced with a warrior clan like the Aesirs.
It is not possible to pick one theory over the other simply because we don’t know fact from fiction. Like most myths, these too are short of documentary evidence or proof. But that is not issue really. What is interesting is that the Norse legends tell us about the way Aesirs and Vanirs interacted with each other. They fought over land, over women and for moral supremacy.
The myths tell us about the qualities that the tribes held dear and it indicates the compulsions behind the migratory nature of most ancient civilisations. According to one story, Iounn was the Aesir god of youth and beauty and held in high regard by the clan. Once, she was abducted by the giants and the Aesirs found themselves ageing like the normal folk. Iounn was rescued by Loki the trickster who changed his form and flew her back to the kingdom of Aesirs.
These myths make me wonder whether the Aesirs and Vanirs of Norse tales are even remotely connected to the Asur and Vanar in Indian mythology? Or are Aesir, Ahura and Asur part of the same family of myths?
Mircea Eliade, the well known Romanian scholar of comparative religions better known in India for his autobiographical novel, Maitreyi (a fictionalised account of his relationship with Bengali writer Maitreyi Devi) has said that the conflict between Aesirs and Vanirs reflect Indo-European myths of conflict between the gods of the sky and the gods of the earth.
Is it possible that we have more than just a name in common between Nordic and Vedic mythologies?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Ram, Ram…
Ram is in the news. What with various politicians laying claim to his legacy and historians debating his existence, Ram’s found a mention in the sound bytes. Was he a god that once walked the earth? Was he a king? Was he real? Or was he a composite character, drawn from heroic exploits of India’s many tribal kings?
We don’t have answers to any of these. The reason is that every time, we try and talk about our mythology, religion gatecrashes the party. Thus if we want to study the character of Ram, we cant. Because if we were to raise questions about his birth, it would be un-Indian. To question his moral authority, is disrespectful.
And yet, his sons did that in the Ramayana indicating a strength of character that we seem to lack today. His wife delivered the harshest judgement of all when she walked out on him, choosing death over her marriage. But, do we discuss this. Of course, not.
We cant debate any of these issues without holding up the invisible shield of faith. Mythology is rolled into the jumble of stuff that constitutes ancient Indian culture; the culture that we fail to uphold but never tire of eulogising. In the name of Ram, lets drop the blinkers. Let us talk about him, let us allow for an objective study of our myths and let's go with the Indian tradition of argument and debate. It would help us discover -- not whether Ram existed or not -- but the true meaning of his life story and a lot more about the times he lived in. I am sure that his creators – human or divine – would approve.
We don’t have answers to any of these. The reason is that every time, we try and talk about our mythology, religion gatecrashes the party. Thus if we want to study the character of Ram, we cant. Because if we were to raise questions about his birth, it would be un-Indian. To question his moral authority, is disrespectful.
And yet, his sons did that in the Ramayana indicating a strength of character that we seem to lack today. His wife delivered the harshest judgement of all when she walked out on him, choosing death over her marriage. But, do we discuss this. Of course, not.
We cant debate any of these issues without holding up the invisible shield of faith. Mythology is rolled into the jumble of stuff that constitutes ancient Indian culture; the culture that we fail to uphold but never tire of eulogising. In the name of Ram, lets drop the blinkers. Let us talk about him, let us allow for an objective study of our myths and let's go with the Indian tradition of argument and debate. It would help us discover -- not whether Ram existed or not -- but the true meaning of his life story and a lot more about the times he lived in. I am sure that his creators – human or divine – would approve.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
another goddess takes off...
Mrityu is the goddess of death. According to Vedic mythology, she was created by Bramha to prevent the universe from being overrun by his creation. Her duty was to ensure that all things born must die someday.
However Mrityu was not happy with the order of things. She didn’t want to do what she was being asked to and was so distressed at the thought of being forced to obey her father that she fled her home. She hid herself in the depths of the ocean, say some while others says that she tucked herself into the petals of the lotus flower. But you cant hide from Bramha and he found her and pleaded with her to come back.
Mrityu wept; “Why”, she asked her father, “should I have to be the one who destroys life?”
At that, Bramha, the story goes, cupped his palm and collected all her tears and said, “You are there to help preserve the balance of life itself. But your tears will not be in vain. They will do your work for you. They will spread disease and illness among mankind to ensure that life comes to an end and the universe keeps its balance.”
Picture by Mekhala Singhal
Sunday, September 09, 2007
the boy who snared the sun
Shaiontoni says: You may like this story which also snares the sun and holds it down, in this case, to prevent it from rising. It was found in
American Indian Fairytales
Retold by W.T. Larned
Illustrated by John Rae
Derrydale, Randomhouse publishers
Iagoo the story teller tells the tale: “In the days of the great dormouse, In the days long long ago when there were many more animals than men on the earth, and the biggest of all beasts was Dormouse. Then something strange happened -- something that never happened before or since…….The story I am going to tell you is not so much about the dormouse as it is about a little boy and his sister. Yet had it not been for the Dormouse, I would not be here to tell you about it, and you would not be here to listen. The only people left on the whole earth were a young girl and her little brother.”
The boy was a dwarf and not more than three feet high but his sister was larger and stronger. She looked after him well but knew that he would have to take care of himself some day or the other. So she taught him the art of shooting and set him up with some bows and arrows. The boy was happy and one winter’s day he shot down some wild snowbirds. His sister sewed the skins together and made him a light coat to keep him warm. They boy strutted around “like a turkey cock” in his coat and one day decided to explore the world. He told his sister that he wanted to see whether, “you and I are the only persons living on earth? Perhaps if I look around I may find someone else. It will do no harm to try.” He walked and walked and walked and when he grew tired lay down to rest on the edge of a hill. Soon he was fast asleep and while he slept: “The bird skins of which the coat was made were still fresh, and …under the full glare of the sun they began to shrivel and shrink.”
The boy woke up and was very angry with the sun.” First he did nothing at all but stretch himself on the ground, where he lay for ten days without eating or moving. Then he turned over onto his side and lay there for ten days more. At last he rose to his feet…and said to his sister: “I have a plan to catch the sun in a noose. Find me something to make a snare.”
His sister got him some rough grass to twist into a rope but he said that would not do. She then cut her hair and braided it. This pleased him and he “drew it between his lips and as he did this it turned into a kind of metal, and grew much stronger and longer, until he had so much that he wound it around his body. In the middle of the night, he made his way to the hill, and there he fixed a noose at the place where the sun would rise. He had to wait a long time in the cold and darkness. But at last a faint light came into the sky. As the sun rose it was caught fast in the noose, and there it stayed.”
The rest of the world flapped around in the darkness. “Ad-ji-dau-mo, the squirrel, chattered and scolded from the branch of a pine tree. Kah-gah-gee, the raven flapped his wings and croaked more hoarsely than ever to tell the others that the end of the world had come. Only Muk-wa the bear did not mind, for it was winter, and the darker it was the better he liked it.”
“Wabun, the East Wind was the one who brought the news. He had drawn from his quiver the silver arrows with which he chased the darkness from the valleys. But the sun had not risen to help him and the arrows fell harmless to the earth. ‘Wake, wake!’ he wailed. ‘Someone has caught the sun in a snare. Which of all the animals will dare to cut the cord?’
The animals decided to go to Dormouse but he was fast asleep. So they went to An-ne-mee-kee, the thunder who went Boom! Boom! In the ear of Dormouse. “The biggest beast on earth slowly rose to his feet. In the darkness he looked bigger than ever, almost as big as a mountain. …………“’Now said Coyote to Dormouse,’ it is you that will have to free the sun. If he burned one of us, there would be little left but bones. But you are so big that if part of you is burned away there will still be enough. Then in that case you would not have to eat so much, or work so hard to get it.’
“Dormouse was a stupid animal and Coyote’s talk seemed true talk. Besides, as he was the biggest animal, he was expected to do the biggest things. So he made his way to the hill where the little boy had snared the sun, and began to nibble at the noose. As he nibbled away, his back got hotter and hotter. Soon it began to burn, until all the upper part of him burned away and became great heaps of ashes. At last when he had cut through the cord with his teeth, and set the sun free, all that was left of him was an animal no larger than an ordinary mouse. What he became then, so he is today…….”
American Indian Fairytales
Retold by W.T. Larned
Illustrated by John Rae
Derrydale, Randomhouse publishers
Iagoo the story teller tells the tale: “In the days of the great dormouse, In the days long long ago when there were many more animals than men on the earth, and the biggest of all beasts was Dormouse. Then something strange happened -- something that never happened before or since…….The story I am going to tell you is not so much about the dormouse as it is about a little boy and his sister. Yet had it not been for the Dormouse, I would not be here to tell you about it, and you would not be here to listen. The only people left on the whole earth were a young girl and her little brother.”
The boy was a dwarf and not more than three feet high but his sister was larger and stronger. She looked after him well but knew that he would have to take care of himself some day or the other. So she taught him the art of shooting and set him up with some bows and arrows. The boy was happy and one winter’s day he shot down some wild snowbirds. His sister sewed the skins together and made him a light coat to keep him warm. They boy strutted around “like a turkey cock” in his coat and one day decided to explore the world. He told his sister that he wanted to see whether, “you and I are the only persons living on earth? Perhaps if I look around I may find someone else. It will do no harm to try.” He walked and walked and walked and when he grew tired lay down to rest on the edge of a hill. Soon he was fast asleep and while he slept: “The bird skins of which the coat was made were still fresh, and …under the full glare of the sun they began to shrivel and shrink.”
The boy woke up and was very angry with the sun.” First he did nothing at all but stretch himself on the ground, where he lay for ten days without eating or moving. Then he turned over onto his side and lay there for ten days more. At last he rose to his feet…and said to his sister: “I have a plan to catch the sun in a noose. Find me something to make a snare.”
His sister got him some rough grass to twist into a rope but he said that would not do. She then cut her hair and braided it. This pleased him and he “drew it between his lips and as he did this it turned into a kind of metal, and grew much stronger and longer, until he had so much that he wound it around his body. In the middle of the night, he made his way to the hill, and there he fixed a noose at the place where the sun would rise. He had to wait a long time in the cold and darkness. But at last a faint light came into the sky. As the sun rose it was caught fast in the noose, and there it stayed.”
The rest of the world flapped around in the darkness. “Ad-ji-dau-mo, the squirrel, chattered and scolded from the branch of a pine tree. Kah-gah-gee, the raven flapped his wings and croaked more hoarsely than ever to tell the others that the end of the world had come. Only Muk-wa the bear did not mind, for it was winter, and the darker it was the better he liked it.”
“Wabun, the East Wind was the one who brought the news. He had drawn from his quiver the silver arrows with which he chased the darkness from the valleys. But the sun had not risen to help him and the arrows fell harmless to the earth. ‘Wake, wake!’ he wailed. ‘Someone has caught the sun in a snare. Which of all the animals will dare to cut the cord?’
The animals decided to go to Dormouse but he was fast asleep. So they went to An-ne-mee-kee, the thunder who went Boom! Boom! In the ear of Dormouse. “The biggest beast on earth slowly rose to his feet. In the darkness he looked bigger than ever, almost as big as a mountain. …………“’Now said Coyote to Dormouse,’ it is you that will have to free the sun. If he burned one of us, there would be little left but bones. But you are so big that if part of you is burned away there will still be enough. Then in that case you would not have to eat so much, or work so hard to get it.’
“Dormouse was a stupid animal and Coyote’s talk seemed true talk. Besides, as he was the biggest animal, he was expected to do the biggest things. So he made his way to the hill where the little boy had snared the sun, and began to nibble at the noose. As he nibbled away, his back got hotter and hotter. Soon it began to burn, until all the upper part of him burned away and became great heaps of ashes. At last when he had cut through the cord with his teeth, and set the sun free, all that was left of him was an animal no larger than an ordinary mouse. What he became then, so he is today…….”
Monday, September 03, 2007
when goddesses take flight...
This is a story from Japan.
The Japanese sun goddess Amaterasu was terrified of her brothers: Hurricane and Gale. They troubled her regularly. And one day, to escape their wilful hooliganism, the goddess ran away and hid herself in a cave.
As you can see, this led to chaos. The gods ran helter skelter looking for Amaterasu because she had taken away the light from their lives. Finally, they found her but, despite all their cajoling and pleading; she refused to step out of the cave. She wouldn’t even come to the entrance for fear that she may be dragged out by her brothers.
The god of wisdom came up with a plan. Go to the cave, he told his fellow gods, in great numbers. Take every musical instrument you can think up and a large mirror. Bang the instruments to create a racket that shakes every corner of the world.
The gods followed his advice and soon Amaterasu let curiosity get the better of her and peeped out. Look, the gods said, we now have a new sun goddess. She is brighter, braver and stronger than you.
Amaterasu saw the reflection in the mirror. Anger flooded her entire being and she stepped out for a fight. No sooner did she do that, the gods tied her up with ropes of dried grass and placed her back in the sky.
Gradually, Amaterasu came to accept her fate. But every night she finds her way back to the cave and lets the moon take her place in the night sky. The ropes of dried grass are the rays of the sun and even today, the Japanese believe that it is auspicious to hang up a garland of dried grass over the doorway during special ceremonies.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
a game of dice
All the world’s a stage…or if we go by Indian mythology, a game board.
According to Indian mythology time can be parcelled into kalpas or eons that stand for one complete cycle of creation and destruction. At the end of each kalpa, the universe is destroyed by fire or flood only to spring back to life in the next kalpa. Each kalpa is further divided into four yugas: Kruta, Treta, Dwapara and Kali.
Kruta was the age of morality when gods and mortals lived in close proximity. The next is Treta or the age of the Ramayana where the hero occupies a high moral ground while the rest of the world struggles with good and evil. The third is Dwapara or the age of Mahabharat when heroes too have feet of clay. The final is kali – the one we are in right now – and it stands for strife and discord. At the end of kaliyug, the universe will either sink into the deep waters or burn to ashes and from its remains will rise a new world in a new kalpa.
Now the name of each yuga is also used to denote the different throws of dice in a traditional gambling game that was played in ancient India. The game is played with a dice that has four faces (like the one used in Mah Jong) and the best throw is the Kreta where the number is perfectly divisible by four. The Treta throw has a remainder of three, Dwapara two and Kali one -- when the number is divided by four. Interesting!
According to Indian mythology time can be parcelled into kalpas or eons that stand for one complete cycle of creation and destruction. At the end of each kalpa, the universe is destroyed by fire or flood only to spring back to life in the next kalpa. Each kalpa is further divided into four yugas: Kruta, Treta, Dwapara and Kali.
Kruta was the age of morality when gods and mortals lived in close proximity. The next is Treta or the age of the Ramayana where the hero occupies a high moral ground while the rest of the world struggles with good and evil. The third is Dwapara or the age of Mahabharat when heroes too have feet of clay. The final is kali – the one we are in right now – and it stands for strife and discord. At the end of kaliyug, the universe will either sink into the deep waters or burn to ashes and from its remains will rise a new world in a new kalpa.
Now the name of each yuga is also used to denote the different throws of dice in a traditional gambling game that was played in ancient India. The game is played with a dice that has four faces (like the one used in Mah Jong) and the best throw is the Kreta where the number is perfectly divisible by four. The Treta throw has a remainder of three, Dwapara two and Kali one -- when the number is divided by four. Interesting!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Marutta's challenge
Thousands of years ago, there lived a king called Marutta. There is not much that we know about his kingdom or his period of reign except that it marked a particularly prosperous time for his subjects. Marutta ruled with compassion and fair play and his people conferred upon him a greatness far beyond his mortal status.
Indra, king of the gods, was envious of Marutta’s growing popularity. And when he found out that Marutta was planning a yagna fit for the gods, he blew a trumpet. Marutta’s kula guru and the priest of the gods, Brihaspati, was to perform the yagna. But Indra warned Brihaspati that if he did take on the task, he would lose his priestly privileges with the gods.
Brihaspati valued his heavenly status far more than his kula guru duties and he informed Marutta accordingly. A distraught Marutta knew of none other who could do the yagna. He despaired at the thought of failing as a king as the yagna was meant to bring rain and a good harvest for his people.
In desperation, he sought to end his life. But Narada stepped in, just in time.
There was someone who could stand in for Brihaspati, he said. His brother, Samvarta. Plotted against by Brihaspati who was jealous of his brother’s abilities, Samvarta had left his home and had become a Naga Sadhu (naked sadhu). Narada advised Marutta to travel to Varanasi and wait outside the cremation grounds with a corpse. The naked sadhu who walked away from the body would be Samvarta, he said.
Marutta did that and as soon as he saw a thin wiry old sadhu make his way hastily away from the corpse, he knew he had his man. He followed Samvarta who was rude, abrasive and told Marutta that he wished to have nothing to do with man or god any more. Marutta persisted and finally Samvarta agreed. The condition was that Marutta would not go back on his word. Terrible times would be inflicted on the king for his decision to go against the word of Indra but, if he abandoned his venture, there would be a curse worse than hell coming his way.
Preparations for the yagna began. Marutta invoked Shiva with his tapasya and when he appeared, sought his support and blessings. With Shiva on his side, Marutta grew in confidence. Still he was ill prepared for what Indra would unleash. The weather turned against him, his people suffered, and every attempt was made to draw him away from his yagna.
The people grew weary and the gods, wary. For Indra was a mean foe and with Brihaspati on his side, there was havoc to be wrought.
As the day drew close, Marutta sent out his invitations. All gods were on the list; even Indra. The king’s advisors asked him to keep Indra away from the yagna but that would have rendered the yagna incomplete said Marutta.
The day of the yagna, all the gods arrived. Even Indra, but Brihaspati stayed away. With their wives, their vahanas and in all their heavenly splendour, the gods took their places around the fire. As Samvarta recited his mantras, the gods found themselves drawn into their spell. The yagna was a success as the offering made by the king was accepted and the gods participated in the great sacrifice.
Samvarta found his place in the world and Indra and Marutta, it is believed lived in peace thereafter.
Indra, king of the gods, was envious of Marutta’s growing popularity. And when he found out that Marutta was planning a yagna fit for the gods, he blew a trumpet. Marutta’s kula guru and the priest of the gods, Brihaspati, was to perform the yagna. But Indra warned Brihaspati that if he did take on the task, he would lose his priestly privileges with the gods.
Brihaspati valued his heavenly status far more than his kula guru duties and he informed Marutta accordingly. A distraught Marutta knew of none other who could do the yagna. He despaired at the thought of failing as a king as the yagna was meant to bring rain and a good harvest for his people.
In desperation, he sought to end his life. But Narada stepped in, just in time.
There was someone who could stand in for Brihaspati, he said. His brother, Samvarta. Plotted against by Brihaspati who was jealous of his brother’s abilities, Samvarta had left his home and had become a Naga Sadhu (naked sadhu). Narada advised Marutta to travel to Varanasi and wait outside the cremation grounds with a corpse. The naked sadhu who walked away from the body would be Samvarta, he said.
Marutta did that and as soon as he saw a thin wiry old sadhu make his way hastily away from the corpse, he knew he had his man. He followed Samvarta who was rude, abrasive and told Marutta that he wished to have nothing to do with man or god any more. Marutta persisted and finally Samvarta agreed. The condition was that Marutta would not go back on his word. Terrible times would be inflicted on the king for his decision to go against the word of Indra but, if he abandoned his venture, there would be a curse worse than hell coming his way.
Preparations for the yagna began. Marutta invoked Shiva with his tapasya and when he appeared, sought his support and blessings. With Shiva on his side, Marutta grew in confidence. Still he was ill prepared for what Indra would unleash. The weather turned against him, his people suffered, and every attempt was made to draw him away from his yagna.
The people grew weary and the gods, wary. For Indra was a mean foe and with Brihaspati on his side, there was havoc to be wrought.
As the day drew close, Marutta sent out his invitations. All gods were on the list; even Indra. The king’s advisors asked him to keep Indra away from the yagna but that would have rendered the yagna incomplete said Marutta.
The day of the yagna, all the gods arrived. Even Indra, but Brihaspati stayed away. With their wives, their vahanas and in all their heavenly splendour, the gods took their places around the fire. As Samvarta recited his mantras, the gods found themselves drawn into their spell. The yagna was a success as the offering made by the king was accepted and the gods participated in the great sacrifice.
Samvarta found his place in the world and Indra and Marutta, it is believed lived in peace thereafter.
Friday, August 03, 2007
rain and thunder
It’s the season for rain here and Mumbai is under water once again. I am resigned to a rain drenched day indoors, hoping for the sun and some cheer tomorrow. However there was another time and another place when the rain and thunder was cause for much joy as the devas vanquished the asuras amidst torrential downpour…
A long long time ago, in the kingdom of the gods, the Asuras had struck terror. They wrecked homes, burnt down the palaces and defeated the gods in every battle. They set every living thing, every home and every forest in heaven and on earth on fire.The gods were forced to turn to Brahma, their creator and saviour. Brahma asked Indra, the king of all gods to take action.
Indra agreed to battle the Asuras but he could not do that without help from Bramha and for that he sat in tapasya. Brahma, as is his nature, was pleased by his prayers and blessed him with a boon. “Dear Indra”, he said, “victory will be yours”. However it would not be a battle easily won because the weapon that would win him the battle had to be shaped out of the sage Dadich’s bones. In short, Indra would have to convince Dadich to self destruct and lend him his bones that would be shaped into the war-winning weapon.
Dadich, despite his thunderous name (or perhaps because of it, Da-Di-Da-Di is supposed to be the sound of thunder), turned out to be an easy ally. His bones were made available and Twashtri, the artisan of the gods shaped the vajra for Indra.
The vajra cleaved the skies in a flash of lightning. The sky opened up, unleashing its fury in the form of rain. The Asuras were no match for the devas who used thunder, lightning and rain to drive fear into the hearts of their enemies.
Vajra in Sanskrit is thunderstorm. It is also close in pronounciation to Vadha or Vadhar which used to mean fierce wind and now (in Marathi) means breeze. In German, the word Wetar, Anglo Saxon, Weter and English Weather -- originally all meant the same. They meant a change in atmosphere due to thunderstorm. Today weather has come to mean all states of air or climate. The vajra has come a long way...
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Indra's pride
Indra was consumed by a desire to build the grandest palace of all. His recent victories against the Asuras had brought him glory and pride. It was time now to reinforce his supremacy at home and a palace built with the finest of craftsmen and the most expensive materials was the way to go. Or so he thought.
Vishwakarma, the architect of the gods was summoned and set to the task. Indra was a tough client. Not only was he a stickler for detail but he was fickle and nothing seemed to please him. Vishwakarma’s men were tired of building a new structure every day and having to pull it down by night just because Indra changed his mind. Vishwakarma realised that he would need the higher divinities to intervene on his behalf or else he would lose all his workmen and his peace of mind.
Vishnu was approached and he came visiting in the form of a rishi. An eager Indra led him to his palace where he showed off the glitter and the gloss with much pomp and fanfare. The rishi stood there distracted and an irritated Indra ticked him off for his insubordination. The rishi meekly mumbled that he had been taken up with an army of ants crossing the floor. He pointed them out to Indra.
Indra angrily asked him why he preferred the ants to his palace. To that the rishi said that he was only paying his respects to the many Indras who had ruled the devas before him. They were all ants now. One day, he said, the present Indra too would join the ants in their journey across the floor of another Indra’s palace.
The folly of his vanity was immediately clear to Indra who fell at the rishi’s feet and sought his forgiveness.
Vishwakarma, the architect of the gods was summoned and set to the task. Indra was a tough client. Not only was he a stickler for detail but he was fickle and nothing seemed to please him. Vishwakarma’s men were tired of building a new structure every day and having to pull it down by night just because Indra changed his mind. Vishwakarma realised that he would need the higher divinities to intervene on his behalf or else he would lose all his workmen and his peace of mind.
Vishnu was approached and he came visiting in the form of a rishi. An eager Indra led him to his palace where he showed off the glitter and the gloss with much pomp and fanfare. The rishi stood there distracted and an irritated Indra ticked him off for his insubordination. The rishi meekly mumbled that he had been taken up with an army of ants crossing the floor. He pointed them out to Indra.
Indra angrily asked him why he preferred the ants to his palace. To that the rishi said that he was only paying his respects to the many Indras who had ruled the devas before him. They were all ants now. One day, he said, the present Indra too would join the ants in their journey across the floor of another Indra’s palace.
The folly of his vanity was immediately clear to Indra who fell at the rishi’s feet and sought his forgiveness.
Narada's gift
The gods were unhappy. The world they had created for all living creatureswas being torn apart by strife. Men and women were always at battle and friends were turning into foes.
The gods knew that the biggest troublemaker of all lived among them. But who was to tell him anything. With Bramha for a father and Saraswati for a mother, there was no god willing to gather up the gumption to speak to him. So the gods kept their counsel. Their silence spawned more fights, more quarrels and more noise. Until the shrill noise of earthly squabbles pierced the heavenly sheath that protected the triumvarate.
Bramha sought advice from Vishnu and Shiv. But he knew even before they had answered, what he had to do.
“Narada!” “Narada”
Bramha’s voice rushed like a gush of wind and dragged Narada by his matted locks to his feet.
The perpetrator of all troubles. The master of all fights had been caught. His father’s anger had him crouching like a cornered tiger cub. He looked for his mother but Saraswati had been sent off by Bramha to keep her sister company.
“Narayana Narayana”, Narada muttered weakly
Narayana’s twinkling eyes offered him no help either.
In a flash Narada knew what he had to do. Bramha read his thoughts before they turned into speech and nodded his sagely nod. His son had got away lightly once again. But who was to deny that he had found the best solution?
Narada decided to gift the earthly beings with something to help them forget their troubles, their differences and their petty fights. Something that would let the human soul rise above the dull drab of daily existence. Something that would lift them into a personal heaven that no one else could penetrate. And the only thing he kenw that could do that was sangeet or music.
Sangeet was the perfect way to keep them from fighting each other. Sangeet was the best gift the gods could give the humans. And who better to spread the harmony than the first musician of the universe, Narada.
And that is how, myth has it, music came to this world.
The gods knew that the biggest troublemaker of all lived among them. But who was to tell him anything. With Bramha for a father and Saraswati for a mother, there was no god willing to gather up the gumption to speak to him. So the gods kept their counsel. Their silence spawned more fights, more quarrels and more noise. Until the shrill noise of earthly squabbles pierced the heavenly sheath that protected the triumvarate.
Bramha sought advice from Vishnu and Shiv. But he knew even before they had answered, what he had to do.
“Narada!” “Narada”
Bramha’s voice rushed like a gush of wind and dragged Narada by his matted locks to his feet.
The perpetrator of all troubles. The master of all fights had been caught. His father’s anger had him crouching like a cornered tiger cub. He looked for his mother but Saraswati had been sent off by Bramha to keep her sister company.
“Narayana Narayana”, Narada muttered weakly
Narayana’s twinkling eyes offered him no help either.
In a flash Narada knew what he had to do. Bramha read his thoughts before they turned into speech and nodded his sagely nod. His son had got away lightly once again. But who was to deny that he had found the best solution?
Narada decided to gift the earthly beings with something to help them forget their troubles, their differences and their petty fights. Something that would let the human soul rise above the dull drab of daily existence. Something that would lift them into a personal heaven that no one else could penetrate. And the only thing he kenw that could do that was sangeet or music.
Sangeet was the perfect way to keep them from fighting each other. Sangeet was the best gift the gods could give the humans. And who better to spread the harmony than the first musician of the universe, Narada.
And that is how, myth has it, music came to this world.
Monday, July 23, 2007
What is myth?
Is it a story about gods and goddesses? Is it a flight of fancy or is it an older avatar of the fantasy genre of story telling? Can one study myth or perhaps more pertinently, should one study myth at all?
As I attended my first lecture on comparative mythology at Bombay University on Saturday, I found myself staring at many of the above questions. I don’t really have the answers to any and as the class progressed I realised that I am not really looking for them. I love stories and I am here to listen, understand, explore and write.
The class was interesting and sitting behind a desk for three hours without a break after all these years was, well a gentle reminder of how I was getting on in years. My knees crumbled and my back creaked ominously as I walked out after class. But these are minor glitches in what was an extremely enjoyable experience. Our lecturer is a storehouse of stories seemed game for new experiences and willing to answer all our questions.
My fellow course mates are an interesting bunch of people. A scientist, a sculptor, a school teacher, a historian – the mix is truly diverse. Everyone brings a unique point of view and a vast amount of knowledge to the classroom and I am just glad to be there.
As I attended my first lecture on comparative mythology at Bombay University on Saturday, I found myself staring at many of the above questions. I don’t really have the answers to any and as the class progressed I realised that I am not really looking for them. I love stories and I am here to listen, understand, explore and write.
The class was interesting and sitting behind a desk for three hours without a break after all these years was, well a gentle reminder of how I was getting on in years. My knees crumbled and my back creaked ominously as I walked out after class. But these are minor glitches in what was an extremely enjoyable experience. Our lecturer is a storehouse of stories seemed game for new experiences and willing to answer all our questions.
My fellow course mates are an interesting bunch of people. A scientist, a sculptor, a school teacher, a historian – the mix is truly diverse. Everyone brings a unique point of view and a vast amount of knowledge to the classroom and I am just glad to be there.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
the hills and the epics -2
this is a lovely story by shaiontoni.
She says: "I have been reading "Lepcha, my vanishing tribe", by A.R. Foning, and am posting some information collected from this wonderful book:
Kanchenjungha is a great Lord, created by It-bu-moo or It-moo, the Great Mother. Known by the Rong-folk (Lepcha) as Kongchen, he is regarded as kind and compassionate, the guardian deity of the Rong-folk who worship him. Surrounding Kongchen are other great lords, who each have duties to fulfil. One of the mountains, Pun Yang Chyu leads to the opening to the realm of the Gods. It is said that this mountain holds within it a rich treasure of seeds which no mortal can ever find. When our world is destroyed by too many evil deeds thoughts and actions, Pun Yang Chu will release these seeds to regenerate the world. "Therefore it is said that Pun Yang Chyu, like a true watchman,keeps his 'Anyur zang zang'... 'his ears pricked up like an animal',trying to detect the slightest suspicious sound."
She says: "I have been reading "Lepcha, my vanishing tribe", by A.R. Foning, and am posting some information collected from this wonderful book:
Kanchenjungha is a great Lord, created by It-bu-moo or It-moo, the Great Mother. Known by the Rong-folk (Lepcha) as Kongchen, he is regarded as kind and compassionate, the guardian deity of the Rong-folk who worship him. Surrounding Kongchen are other great lords, who each have duties to fulfil. One of the mountains, Pun Yang Chyu leads to the opening to the realm of the Gods. It is said that this mountain holds within it a rich treasure of seeds which no mortal can ever find. When our world is destroyed by too many evil deeds thoughts and actions, Pun Yang Chu will release these seeds to regenerate the world. "Therefore it is said that Pun Yang Chyu, like a true watchman,keeps his 'Anyur zang zang'... 'his ears pricked up like an animal',trying to detect the slightest suspicious sound."
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
the hills and the epics-1
Just back from a great vacation. We went to Himachal, high up into the hills where summer was a stranger and the stars came out to party every night. I have always loved the mountains as they seem to imbue a sense of timeless peace in all of us. It transforms us into the humans we were all born to be—not rats in the race to rush someplace.
We went to several places and last on our route was Shojha, which is like a window into paradise. It is surrounded by snow capped mountains and it overlooks a green valley where the trees merge into each other without a beginning or an end.
It is barely a kilometer away from Jalori Pass in the Kulu district in Himachal Pradesh. Close to Shojha is a village called Hidimb. Rishi, the trekking guide who was a constant at the various Banjara Camps sites that we stayed in, says that this is the famous Hidimb from Mahabharata.
Famous? But I quickly stop myself from questioning him as it is all about perspectives and point of view – both an integral part of any literature. The Mahabharata has been traditionally read by most of us urban readers, from the Pandava point of view where characters like Hidimb and Hidimba are mere flashes in the larger scheme of things. Here however is where they lived and their story is as important as that of the other players.
Hidimb and Hidimba, as the epic goes, were rakhshasha siblings. They protected the forests that the Pandavas (Yudisthir, Arjun, Bhim, Nakul and Sahadev) chose to hide in during their exile. Hidimba fell in love with Bhim and he with her. They married and Ghatotkacha, their son was a strange mix between rakshasha and human. He doted upon his father and his uncles and played a crucial part in the final battle for supremacy in the Mahabharata.
But this alliance between Hidimba and Bhim was opposed by Hidimb. He believed that the Pandavas were not to be trusted. They would destroy their homes and their lives if they were allowed to. His anger was so great that he fought alongside the Kauravas (Duryodhana and his 99 brothers; cousins of the Pandavas) in the final war. The village named after him has an annual festival where Hidimb is the central deity.
Some distance away in the Manori district is a temple dedicated to Hidimba. She stayed back in the forests after the Pandavas left where she brought up Ghatotkacha.
Who were Hidimb and Hidimba?
Rishi who is from Manali says that they are forest deities. In the Mahabharata, they are portrayed as Rakhshashas or demons but they are not evil. They are wary of human folk like the Pandavas and they are definitely different in terms of appearance, habitat and behaviour.
Were they a forest tribe that opposed the growing influence of the Hindu tribes? Were they the original inhabitants and the Pandavas the outside invaders? These are just questions – I don’t have any of the answers. Do you?
Picture by Mekhala Singhal
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Why is the sky so high?
I recently reread this beautiful story from the Philippines of how the sky, the moon and the stars came to be. Like all myths, the story is very simple and follows a logic that is impossible to fault. It takes us to a time when magic was found in the routine of daily living and; solving the mysteries of the universe was a global preoccupation.
Now on to the story...
A long long time ago, the sky was very very close to the ground. It hung over earth like a blanket over a sleeping man. It looked somewhat like a large coral rock, shimmering and porous and soft.
One day a spinster sat under this large coral rock. She sat there busily with her hands flying fast and furious as she pound a mortar full of rice. The mortar was as large as the earth we all live on and the pestle had the strength to smash a thousand sharks or a million crabs into the tiniest grain of sand.
Before she set to work, the old woman took off a string of shiny silver beads from around her neck and the comb from her hair and hung them up in the sky. She did not want the beads from her necklace, nor the stray strands of grey from the comb to get into the rice. And the sky hanging above her head seemed the perfect place to hang her things on to.
As she began working, she soon lost track of time. She worked hard and with every pound her pestle rose higher and higher until it struck the sky. She worked harder and harder until the pestle struck the sky so hard that the sky flew up very far. It went up so high that the old woman lost her beads and her comb forever.
Her comb became the moon and the beads turned into stars that light up the sky even today.
Now on to the story...
A long long time ago, the sky was very very close to the ground. It hung over earth like a blanket over a sleeping man. It looked somewhat like a large coral rock, shimmering and porous and soft.
One day a spinster sat under this large coral rock. She sat there busily with her hands flying fast and furious as she pound a mortar full of rice. The mortar was as large as the earth we all live on and the pestle had the strength to smash a thousand sharks or a million crabs into the tiniest grain of sand.
Before she set to work, the old woman took off a string of shiny silver beads from around her neck and the comb from her hair and hung them up in the sky. She did not want the beads from her necklace, nor the stray strands of grey from the comb to get into the rice. And the sky hanging above her head seemed the perfect place to hang her things on to.
As she began working, she soon lost track of time. She worked hard and with every pound her pestle rose higher and higher until it struck the sky. She worked harder and harder until the pestle struck the sky so hard that the sky flew up very far. It went up so high that the old woman lost her beads and her comb forever.
Her comb became the moon and the beads turned into stars that light up the sky even today.
Monday, April 30, 2007
the human journey
I recently stumbled on to the website of National Geographic’s genographic project. And I have been blown. In the words of the man driving the project (find out more here: https://www3.nationalgeographic.com/genographic/index.html), Dr Spencer Wells, it is an attempt to throw some light on our genetic journey. The project is a journey back in time to discover how universal human heritage really is.
Wells is a fascinating man (please read his interview at: PLoS GENETICS). Somehow, I cant upload this link here. He is the explorer in residence at National Geographic and reading about the work he is doing is like walking into a beautifully illustrated book that reveals an invisible crisscross of linkages between people all over the globe. It makes all our differences seem so small and the likenesses so huge and... so in our faces that I am surprised we still miss it.
Wells is a fascinating man (please read his interview at: PLoS GENETICS). Somehow, I cant upload this link here. He is the explorer in residence at National Geographic and reading about the work he is doing is like walking into a beautifully illustrated book that reveals an invisible crisscross of linkages between people all over the globe. It makes all our differences seem so small and the likenesses so huge and... so in our faces that I am surprised we still miss it.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
sunda
Interestingly, Sunda was once a kingdom in west Java. According to Wikipedia, it lay very close to what is present day Jakarta, capital of Indonesia. According to the Indonesian tourism website, Jakarta was known as Sunda Kelapa, the main port of the Hindu kingdom of Sunda.
While it is not clear how the kingdom was destroyed, it is believed that there was a major battle between the Portuguese who had built a strong alliance with the Sunda kings and Muslim troops from the Indonesian islands of Cirebon and Demak. The kingdom, if we are to interpret the myths spun around Sunda and Taraka, could have been destroyed in battle or maybe an earthquake.
any interesting spins anyone?
While it is not clear how the kingdom was destroyed, it is believed that there was a major battle between the Portuguese who had built a strong alliance with the Sunda kings and Muslim troops from the Indonesian islands of Cirebon and Demak. The kingdom, if we are to interpret the myths spun around Sunda and Taraka, could have been destroyed in battle or maybe an earthquake.
any interesting spins anyone?
mythical dilemmas
It is not us mere mortals alone who have to deal with awful dilemmas at the workplace and in our families. The gods have to do the same and our myths are full of the ingenious ways in which these dilemmas are resolved.
One instance is in the Ramayana, when Ram is asked to attack Taraka Rakshashi (yakshi). He is distraught. He appeals to Viswamitra, who had left behind a sobbing Dasarath in Ayodhya for the specific purpose of getting rid of Taraka. Now Ram’s dilemma had to be addressed if he had to get the work done.
Ram asked him: How can I attack a female? Would that not be the ultimate sin?
Viswamitra tells him that Ram is merely following the natural order of things. It is sin to fight a woman, but under extreme circumstances as this one was, it can be justified. And since he is an avatar who walks the earth to rid mankind of its problems and sins, he and not anybody else, can take this on.
He goes on to tell him the story of Taraka’s birth and curse that convinced Ram that the need of the hour was to kill the yakshi.
Taraka, Viswamitra says, was the result of a boon and a curse.
The boon: Taraka’s father was Suketu,a formidable yaksha but very devout. He prayed for a child and was granted a boon by Bramha. Bramha granted him the boon of a daughter who was beautiful and had the strength of a 1000 elephants. But Bramha did not grant him a son because he believed that a yaksha would be more harmful to the world than a yakshi.
Taraka grew up and married Sunda, son of Jambha. Soon she had a son and he was named Mareecha. (This is the same Mareecha who disguised as a golden deer would trigger off the battle; also Ravana’s uncle and thus in a manner typical to our mythology, Taraka, Mareecha and Ravana get looped in a circle of relationships).
The curse: Agastya, a sage was angered by Sunda (Taraka’s husband) and he turned him to dust. Enraged, Taraka rushed at him to end his life and Agastya cursed her saying that she would lose her beauty and her form and exist as a monstrous yakshi for ever after. And her son Mareecha would become a demon (I assume a lesser yaksha). Taraka retired to the forest and began harassing the rishis and destroying the birds and animals that had earlier lived in peace.
Viswamitra explained to Rama that he was justified in killing Taraka because if he did not do that, she would destroy faith, belief and life on this universe.
One instance is in the Ramayana, when Ram is asked to attack Taraka Rakshashi (yakshi). He is distraught. He appeals to Viswamitra, who had left behind a sobbing Dasarath in Ayodhya for the specific purpose of getting rid of Taraka. Now Ram’s dilemma had to be addressed if he had to get the work done.
Ram asked him: How can I attack a female? Would that not be the ultimate sin?
Viswamitra tells him that Ram is merely following the natural order of things. It is sin to fight a woman, but under extreme circumstances as this one was, it can be justified. And since he is an avatar who walks the earth to rid mankind of its problems and sins, he and not anybody else, can take this on.
He goes on to tell him the story of Taraka’s birth and curse that convinced Ram that the need of the hour was to kill the yakshi.
Taraka, Viswamitra says, was the result of a boon and a curse.
The boon: Taraka’s father was Suketu,a formidable yaksha but very devout. He prayed for a child and was granted a boon by Bramha. Bramha granted him the boon of a daughter who was beautiful and had the strength of a 1000 elephants. But Bramha did not grant him a son because he believed that a yaksha would be more harmful to the world than a yakshi.
Taraka grew up and married Sunda, son of Jambha. Soon she had a son and he was named Mareecha. (This is the same Mareecha who disguised as a golden deer would trigger off the battle; also Ravana’s uncle and thus in a manner typical to our mythology, Taraka, Mareecha and Ravana get looped in a circle of relationships).
The curse: Agastya, a sage was angered by Sunda (Taraka’s husband) and he turned him to dust. Enraged, Taraka rushed at him to end his life and Agastya cursed her saying that she would lose her beauty and her form and exist as a monstrous yakshi for ever after. And her son Mareecha would become a demon (I assume a lesser yaksha). Taraka retired to the forest and began harassing the rishis and destroying the birds and animals that had earlier lived in peace.
Viswamitra explained to Rama that he was justified in killing Taraka because if he did not do that, she would destroy faith, belief and life on this universe.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
crows in mythology
According to Irish mythology, Babd is the goddess of war. She is a shape shifter and takes the form of a wolf or a bear at will. On the battlefield, she turns into a miniature woman with wings and webbed feet whose shrieks foretell death and despair. Once the battle is over, she transforms into a crow that feasts on the dead.
The crow, in many mythologies, is associated with death, or the dead. In India crows are believed to be messengers of the dead. A crow cawing at the window could be the spirit of a dead ancestor and few Indian households will turn it away without offering it food or water.
The crow is also supposed to be a clever bird and in Indian folklore it is shown as a smart bird that can outwit fate and circumstance. The Indian god Shani (representing the planet Saturn) also rides on a crow. Shani is a particularly difficult deity to please and is known to wreak havoc on the lives of mere mortals at the slightest provocation.
Yet another reason to keep the crows happy and well fed.
Ref: Goddesses-A world of myth and magic; written by Burleigh Muten and illustrated by Rebecca Guay. Published by Barefoot books
The crow, in many mythologies, is associated with death, or the dead. In India crows are believed to be messengers of the dead. A crow cawing at the window could be the spirit of a dead ancestor and few Indian households will turn it away without offering it food or water.
The crow is also supposed to be a clever bird and in Indian folklore it is shown as a smart bird that can outwit fate and circumstance. The Indian god Shani (representing the planet Saturn) also rides on a crow. Shani is a particularly difficult deity to please and is known to wreak havoc on the lives of mere mortals at the slightest provocation.
Yet another reason to keep the crows happy and well fed.
Ref: Goddesses-A world of myth and magic; written by Burleigh Muten and illustrated by Rebecca Guay. Published by Barefoot books
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