Skandapurana 2.7.18

The story of Vālmīki's previous birth.

The hunter said:
“I have been favored by you, O sage—I, a sinner of extremely wicked mind.
For the great are naturally compassionate, the virtuous indeed so. / 1
Where is a hunter of low birth like me, and where such an intellect?
I consider this merely your supreme grace. / 2
Now, O virtuous one, I am your pupil, a fit recipient of your mercy, O honor-giver.
I am worthy of grace, I am your son; bestow your compassion, O ocean of mercy! / 3
So that such an evil mind, which brings disaster, may not arise in me again.
For through association with the good, one never again experiences sorrow. / 4
Therefore instruct me, O brahmin, with those well-spoken words that remove sin,
by which seekers of liberation truly cross the ocean of worldly existence. / 5
For the virtuous, whose minds are impartial and who have compassion for all living beings,
no one is low or high, nor is anyone their own or another. / 6
Having pondered with one-pointed focus, he who inquires about purity of heart—
whether he is full of all faults or bereft of all religious duty— / 7
whenever he asks teachers, having felt genuine remorse,
they straightaway instruct him in the knowledge that liberates from worldly existence. / 8
Just as the Gaṅgā is destined to destroy the sins of men,
so the virtuous are known to have the nature of uplifting the lowly. / 9
Do not hesitate to enlighten me, O compassionate one, affectionate to devotees,
because of my desire to serve, my submission, and the purity arising from your company.” / 10

Having heard this speech of the hunter, his mind amazed once more,
addressing him with “Well done! Well done!”, he spoke of these religious duties: / 11

Śaṅkha said:
“Perform the divine duties pleasing to Viṣṇu that grant liberation from the ocean of worldly existence
in the month of Vaiśākha, O hunter, if you desire welfare. / 12
Terrible heat oppresses us, and there is neither shade nor water here.
Therefore let us go to another place where there is shade. / 13
Having gone there, drunk water, and resorted to pleasant shade,
I shall describe to you the sin-destroying māhātmya / 14
of Viṣṇu, pertaining to the month of Mādhava, just as it was seen and heard.”
Addressed thus by that sage, the hunter spoke with folded hands: / 15
“Not far from here there is water in a lake.
Kapittha trees are there, laden with a heavy load of fruit. / 16
Let us go there; contentment will be found, without a doubt.”
Directed thus by the hunter, the sage went along with him. / 17
Having gone some distance from there, he saw ahead a lake,
crowded with cranes and kāraṇḍavas, adorned with cakravākas, / 18
beautified all around by swans, sārasa cranes, and krauñcas,
resounding with loud resonant bamboos, and hummed over by bees, / 19
plunged into by crocodiles, turtles, fish, and the like, exceedingly enchanting,
vast with white water lilies, blue lotuses, kahlāras, and puṇḍarīkas, / 20
splendid all around with hundred-petaled lotuses and red water lilies,
resounding with the melodious calls of birds, a feast for the eyes, / 21
adorned on the bank with bamboo thickets and with trees:
with banyans, karañjas, nīpas, and ciñciṇīs, / 22
with nimba, plakṣa, priyāla, campaka, and auspicious bakula trees,
with punnāgas, tumburus, and also kapitthas and āmalakas, / 23
with niṣpeṣaṇa and jambū trees, adorned on every side;
with wild elephants, antelopes, boars, buffalos, and others, / 24
adorned with hares, porcupines, and forest oxen,
with rhinoceroses, musk deers, tigers, lions, and wolves, / 25
with donkeys, śarabhas, and beautifully adorned with deer;
with monkeys swiftly leaping from branch to branch, / 26
fearsome with wildcats, bears, and ruru deer,
with the sounds of crickets, shrieks, and the creaking of bamboos, / 27
endowed with masses of wood felled by violent windstorms—
such a divine lake was pointed out by the hunter. / 28
The tiger among sages, greatly tormented by thirst, saw it.
Having bathed at noon in this enchanting lake, / 29
putting on two garments, and then performing the midday rites,
he then performed worship of the gods and, alert, ate the fruit / 30
brought by the hunter—delicious kapittha fruit that removed his exhaustion.
Sitting comfortably, he asked the hunter who was devoted to righteousness: / 31
“What should I speak to you first today, O you who are dedicated to duty?
Duties are many, with diverse paths and different forms. / 32
Among them, those prescribed for the month of Vaiśākha, though subtle, yield great results;
they bestow rewards in this world and the next to all living beings. / 33
Whatever you need to ask in your mind, and whatever comes first, ask that.”
Addressed thus by that sage, he spoke with folded hands: / 34

The hunter said:
"By what action did my birth as a hunter, full of darkness, arise?
By what [action] did such understanding or company with a great soul come about?
Tell me this and more, O Lord, if you think fit of me."
Thus addressed, the great sage named Śaṅkha spoke again,
with a voice deep as a thundercloud, his lotus-face gently smiling.
Śaṅkha said:
"Formerly, in the city of Śākala, you were a twice-born man, a master of the Vedas,
named Stamba, possessed of great splendor, born in the lineage of Śrīvatsa.
A certain courtesan became dear to you; and through the fault of association with her,
abandoning your daily rites, you returned home daily like a śūdra.
To you, devoid of conduct, wicked, and having cast off all religious duties,
there was at that time a wife, a brahmin woman named Kāntimatī.
That fair-browed woman served you, the lowest of brahmins, along with your courtesan.
Washing the feet of both, ever doing what pleased you,
she slept beneath both and was devoted to the words of both.
Though held back by the courtesan, she remained steadfast in her vow of wifely devotion.
As she thus attended upon her husband together with the courtesan,
a very long time passed for that sorrowful woman on the earth.
On another day, her husband ate black gram mixed with radishes,
[and] beans mixed with sesame—food customary for śūdras.
Having eaten that improper food, vomiting and purging,
from that unhealthy diet a terrible disease arose, fistula-in-ano.
He, tormented by that disease day and night exceedingly, [suffered].
As long as wealth remained in the house, so long did the courtesan stay.
Taking his wealth, she did not live in the house thereafter.
Approaching the side of another, that dreadful, pitiless woman departed.
Then, his speech pitiful, severely afflicted by the torment of disease,
he spoke, weeping, to his wife, his mind bewildered by pain:
'Protect me, O lady! I was attached to a courtesan, extremely cruel.

No kindness was done by me toward you, O beautiful, pure woman.

What vile sinner would not show respect to his devoted wife?

Such a one will become a eunuch, O auspicious woman, for fifteen births,

rebuked day and night by virtuous people, O blessed one!

I shall obtain a womb of sin, having truly disrespected you, a virtuous woman;

I am burned by the fire of anger born of dishonoring you.'

To her husband speaking thus, she said with folded hands:

'You should feel no dejection, nor shame toward me, O beloved!

Nor do I have anger toward you, by which you say you are burned now.

Sins committed in previous lives indeed turn into sorrows here.

That virtuous woman or that man who endures them is the best.

Whatever sin was committed by me, a sinner, in a previous birth,

as I experience that, I have no sorrow and no despair whatsoever.'

Having spoken thus to her husband, that fair-browed woman looked after him.

Bringing wealth from her father and from her kinsmen, that woman of fair complexion

thought of her husband as the Lord who dwells in the Ocean of Milk.

Cleaning day and night his feces and urine,

with difficulty she extracted worms from her husband with her fingernail, little by little.

She did not sleep at night, nor by day, that woman of fair complexion;

tormented by her husband's sorrow, sorrowful herself, she said this:

'May the gods protect my husband, and the celebrated ancestors!

May they make my husband free of disease and rid of impurity!

To Caṇḍikā I will offer [food] derived from blood and flesh,

well-prepared food accompanied by buffalo-meat, for the sake of my husband's health.

I will cause sweetmeats to be made for the great-souled Vighneśa;

on Saturdays I will perform ten fasts.

I will not eat sweets; I will not eat ghee;

I shall remain without oil-massage, there is no doubt about this,

so that this husband of mine may live for a hundred autumns free of disease!'

Thus that lady prayed as day after day went by.

And then a certain great-souled sage named Devala arrived

in the month of Vaiśākha, distressed by heat, at his house in the evening.

Then the wife said: 'A physician has arrived at the house;

through him the removal of disease may come about. I shall offer him hospitality.'

Knowing you to be averse to dharma, you were deceived under the pretext of a physician.

Washing his feet, she sprinkled that water upon your head.

And she gave a cooling drink to that great-souled one distressed by the heat,

approved by you, in the evening, dispelling the burning pain of heat.

When the sun rose in the morning, that sage departed as he had come.

Then, after a short time, you were seized by high delirium.

As trikaṭu medicine was being administered, the husband bit off her finger;

his two jaws suddenly clamped together.

That very tender piece of the finger remained in the husband's mouth;

having severed her finger, the husband then passed away.

Lying on an attractive bed, remembering that lovely unchaste woman, [he died].

Knowing her husband had died, your wife Kāntimatī,

selling her bracelet and procuring abundant firewood,

built a pyre with it, that virtuous woman, placing her husband in the middle.

Embracing him with her arms, and clinging feet to feet,

placing face to face, and heart to heart,

and joining her hips to his hips, the noble lady, positioning herself,

caused the diseased body of her husband to be burned,

together with herself, that auspicious woman, in the blazing fire.

Abandoning her body, embracing her husband, she went instantly to the world of Murāri,

which is attainable by yogins, through the gift of water in this month of Mādhava and through the washing of [the sage's] feet.

You, having abandoned your body at the time of death while thinking of a courtesan, though freed of all evil,

obtained a birth as a hunter of terrible form, attached to violence, constantly causing terror.

Because assent was given by you to the gift of a cooling drink to a virtuous man in the month of Mādhava,

though born a hunter, there arose in you the noble intellect to ask about dharmas, the sole cause of all happiness.

The water left over from washing the sage's feet, which removes all sins, was placed on your head.

Because of that, you have this meeting with me in this forest, through which your prosperity and lineage will grow again.

Thus, all this has been told—whatever was done in your previous birth,

both meritorious action and sin, seen through divine vision.

I shall also tell you what is secret, whatever you wish to hear.

Purity of mind has indeed arisen in you; may there be welfare to you, O wise one!

Thus ends the eighteenth chapter, named 'The Recounting of the Hunter's Previous Birth,' in the story of the hunter within the dialogue between Nārada and Ambarīṣa, in the glorification of the month of Vaiśākha, in the second section, the Vaiṣṇavakhaṇḍa, of the glorious Skandamahāpurāṇa consisting of eighty-one thousand verses.