Skandapurana 3.3.3

The king said:
What wonder did you see on the way, O brahmin, and where?
Tell me that, so that I may attain fulfillment of purpose.
Gautama said:
As I was coming from Gokarṇa, O ruler of subjects, in a certain place,
when midday arrived, I reached a clear lake.
Having sipped water there and dispelled the fatigue of the journey,
I resorted to a banyan tree with very glossy and cool shade.
Then, not far off, an outcaste woman, old, blind, emaciated in form,
with a drying face, without food, tormented by many diseases,
her body covered with leprous sores, swarming with rising broods of worms,
her hips clad in an old rag sticking with pus and blood,
distraught with the constriction of her throat caused by advanced consumption lodged in her neck,
her teeth lost, incoherent, rolling [on the ground] again and again,
sprinkled with harsh, hot dust touched by the fierce rays of the sun,
her limbs smeared with feces, urine, and pus, unapproachable because of the smell of blood,
with immense suffering as her pulse weakened under phlegm-disease and heavy panting,
with disheveled hair and limbs, nearing death—I saw [such a woman].
And beholding her in such agony, I was overcome with compassion;
waiting for her death, I remained right there for a moment.
Then I saw a divine aerial chariot brought by the attendants of Śiva,
as though sprinkling the path of the sky with rays of light.
In that aerial chariot, which was like a cage of the splendors of the sun, moon, and fire,
I saw attendants of Śiva resembling the sun.
They indeed held tridents, skull-topped staves, chisels, shields, and swords in their hands;
they were adorned with crescent moons and possessed the great brilliance of the dense moon and jasmine;
shining with crowns and earrings, radiant with bracelets of great serpents—
four followers of Śiva, endowed with auspicious marks, were seen by me.
Looking at them standing in the aerial chariot as they arrived, deeply amazed,
I approached swiftly, drew near, and asked those who stood in the sky:
"Obeisance, obeisance to you, best of the thirty gods, followers of the glorious feet of the Three-Eyed One!"

[Obeisance] to those carrying out the protection of the three worlds, who wield trident, shield, sword, and mace. / I have indeed recognized you as attendants of the feet of Maheśvara. / Is this journey of yours for the purpose of protecting the world, or born of sport? / Or have you undertaken an effort to overcome the flood of sins of all people? / Tell me out of compassion, for what purpose have you arrived here? / The messengers of Śiva said: / "Before us is seen this old cāṇḍāla woman, on the verge of death. / We have come to fetch her, commanded by the Lord." / When told this by those messengers of Śiva, I asked them yet again, / my mind overcome with astonishment, standing with folded hands: / "Ah, how does this terrible, most sinful cāṇḍāla woman deserve / to ascend a celestial aerial chariot, like a female dog [entering] a sacrificial arena? / Impure almost from birth, sinful, an adherent of sin, / how do you wish to lead this woman of wicked conduct to the realm of Śiva? / She has no knowledge of Śiva, no extremely severe austerity, / no truthfulness, no compassion—how do you wish to take her? / Feeding on the flesh of beasts, her belly filled with liquor, / constantly delighting in injuring living beings—how do you wish to take her? / Nor has she repeated the five-syllable mantra, nor performed worship of Śiva; / nor was the Lord Śambhu meditated upon—how do you wish to take her? / She observed no fast on Śiva’s lunar day, nor did she perform worship of Śiva; / she knows nothing of goodwill to living beings, nor offering of bilva leaves to Śiva, / nor Vedic sacrifices, charitable works, and the like—how do you wish to take her? / Neither has she bathed at sacred fords, nor given gifts, / nor undertaken vows—how do you wish to take her? / She ought to be avoided at the mere sight, not to mention in conversation; / destitute of the company of the good, fierce—how do you wish to take her? / Or is there any good deed of hers acquired in another birth? / Then why is she overcome by leprosy and worms? / Ah, this course of the Lord is incomprehensible to embodied beings, / when even sinful souls are taken to the supreme abode out of compassion!"

Thus addressed by me, those messengers of the God of gods, the trident-wielder, / dispelling all doubts, then answered me with affection. / The messengers of Śiva said: / "O brahmin, listen to a very great marvel, if you have curiosity, / regarding what you have now said concerning this cāṇḍāla woman. / In a previous birth she was a certain brahmin girl / named Sumitrā, whose face was like the full disk of the moon, / whose bodily characteristics were delicate like a garland of blooming jasmine, / the chaste daughter of a certain foremost brahmin of the Kaikeya country. / Seeing her growing up in her father's house, endowed with all auspicious marks / like a second embodiment of Rati, people were astonished. / Day by day she grew, pampered greatly by her relatives; / slowly she attained youth, like the great bow of the God of Love. / Then that young maiden was given according to rule by her father, / joined by his relatives, to a certain brahmin's son. / Having obtained a husband, possessing fresh youth, / of good conduct, she enjoyed herself for some time surrounded by relatives. / Then, through the power of time, her husband, afflicted by severe disease, / though endowed with beauty and youth, met his death, O sage. / When her husband died, being a chaste woman whose heart was burned with sorrow, / she lived for a few months well-behaved, with conquered senses. / Then, through the constantly developing burden of youth, / her heart became agitated by Kāmadeva. / Kept hidden by her circle of relatives, though instructed by the most eminent, / that woman was unable to restrain her mind, captivated by love. / Filled with intense desire, endowed with beauty and youth, / though a widow, she became especially devoted to the path of lovers. / Known by no one at all to be an unchaste woman, being clever, / that worst of women concealed her own misconduct for some time. / Overcome with pregnancy cravings, her breasts with thick, dark nipples, / in time even her circle of relatives realized she had been defiled by a paramour.

Terrified of great reproach, [her family] fell into insurmountable anxiety: / 'Women are ruined by lust; brahmins by serving the low; / kings by a brahmin's curse; ascetics by accumulating sensory pleasures; / similarly, food licked by a dog, or milk into which wine has been poured; / beauty afflicted by leprosy; a family is destroyed by a bad woman.' / Reflecting thus together, the brothers of her husband, united,

cast her far away from their lineage, seizing her by her hair; / that woman was abandoned by all her relatives with the ritual expulsion of breaking a water-pot.

Wandering about, delighting in sexual pleasure, sports-loving, / that woman went out beyond the village boundary, and was seen by a certain śūdra.

Seeing that woman of beautiful hips, with plump, prominent breasts, / that śūdra leader gently led the widow to his home. / That woman became his chief wife, and with him day and night,

delighting, the beloved mistress of the house lived in a certain place. / There, eating meat and constantly drinking liquor, / fond of pleasure, sporting with the śūdra, she bore a son. / Once, when her husband had gone somewhere, she, having drunk liquor / and distracted by the intoxication of spirits, desired to eat meat. / Then, while the sheep were tied together with the cows outside in the cattle pen,

she went holding a sword, into the pitch darkness at the beginning of the night. / Craving meat, without thinking, in a fit of intoxication, mistaking it for a sheep,

the wretched woman killed a cow's calf that was crying out in the night. / Bringing the slain creature to the house, having realized it was a cow's calf, the woman,

frightened, cried out 'Śiva! Śiva!' by virtue of some past meritorious deed. / Having reflected thus for a moment, craving meat and wine,

she cut up that very cow's calf and made her desired meal. / Then, having made her meal with half of the calf's body,

she threw the [other] half of its body outside and deceitfully cried aloud: / 'Alas! This little cow's calf in the pen was torn apart and eaten by a tiger!'

Thus her lamentation was heard in all the houses. / Then all the śūdra folk assembled and stood beside her.

Seeing that the cow's calf was slain by a tiger, they were filled with sorrow. / When they had all departed and the night was then spent,

her husband came home and saw the ruin of his household. / Thus, when much time had passed, that wife of the Śūdra,

falling into the power of Death, went to the abode of Yama. / And Yama, looking upon justice and her past deeds,

made her undergo hellish abodes and then assigned her to the Cāṇḍāla caste. / She too fell from the city of Yama and entered the womb of a Cāṇḍāla woman.

She was then born blind from birth, black as an extinguished coal. / Her father was a certain Cāṇḍāla living somewhere in the country.

Even though she was such a daughter, he nourished her with compassion, / with inedible, rotten, spoiled food licked by dogs,

and with undrinkable broths she was nourished day by day by her mother. / Blind from birth, in time, while still a child, she was afflicted with leprosy.

Extremely unfortunate, she was not married by any Cāṇḍāla. / When her childhood had passed, both her father and mother having died,

she was abandoned by her relatives and brothers as unfortunate. / Then, tormented by hunger, wretched, grieving, deprived of sight,

taking a stick and a pebble, she moved about with difficulty. / Begging day after day in all the towns,

she satisfied her belly's fire with morsels of Cāṇḍāla leftovers. / Passing a great deal of her life in this manner with immense hardship,

her whole body seized by old age, she endured insuperable suffering.

Lacking food, drink, and clothing, she once learned of the crowds of people,

the travellers going forth as the auspicious lunar day of Śiva was approaching.

On that pilgrimage to the deity, of people journeying from various regions—

of high-minded brahmins accompanied by their wives and keeping their sacred fires,

of kings accompanied by their harems, with elephants, chariots, and horses,

with the clamour of their retinue, resplendent with vehicles, umbrellas, and the like,

and likewise of thousands of other mixed people, Vaiśyas and Śūdras,

laughing, singing, dancing somewhere, or running,

smelling, drinking at will, going forward, and shouting back and forth—

in that march of men there was immense bustle.

While all were thus going to Gokarna, the abode of Śiva,

all the gods seated in their aerial chariots watched with wonder.

Now this Cāṇḍāla woman too, out of longing for clothing and food,

set out slowly to beg from the crowds of people.

Held by the hand of another woman, propelled by the deeds accumulated in her past life,

traveling for several days, she arrived at the sacred field of Gokarṇa.

Then, seated at a distance from the path with cupped hands opened,

begging repeatedly from the travellers, she spoke pitiful words:

‘Upon me, tormented for a long time by heaps of sins accumulated in past lives,

take pity, O people, by giving merely food!

O saviours of the deeply distressed, givers of supreme blessings,

doers of many merits, take pity, O people!

Upon one devoid of clothing and food, sleeping on the bare ground,

plunged in deep dust, take pity, O people!

Upon one stricken by severe cold and heat, afflicted by severe disease,

upon me, blind and old, take pity, O people!

Upon one inflamed by chronic fasting through the kindlings of her digestive fire,

whose whole body is burning, take pity, O people!

Upon one who has gathered no merit even over hundreds of lifetimes,

sinful and ill-fated, take pity, O people!’

While the Cāṇḍāla woman was thus begging, into her outstretched hands

a certain most virtuous traveller cast a sprig of bilva leaves.

Feeling repeatedly that [cluster] which had fallen into her hands,

thinking it to be inedible, the afflicted woman threw it far away.

Cast off by her hand in the night, that sprig of bilva leaves,

by good fortune, fell upon the top of a certain Śiva liṅga.

Thus, on the night of Śiva’s fourteenth [lunar day], though begging repeatedly

from the travellers, she received nothing whatsoever by the turn of fate.

The night was spent by her there, behind Bhadrakālī,

at a place somewhat to the north, not very far—just halfway from it.

Then at dawn, her hopes dashed, overwhelmed by great sorrow,

the wretched woman slowly turned back, completely alone, toward her own land.

Exhausted by prolonged fasting, falling at every step,

weeping, stricken by many diseases, trembling, intensely distressed,

burning under the heat of the sun, naked, with her walking stick,

having traversed just this much ground, she fell down senseless.

Then Śambhu, the Lord of the Universe, an ocean of the nectar of compassion,

commanded us with our aerial chariots: ‘Bring her here!’

This story of the cāṇḍāla woman has thus been narrated to you here;

likewise, Śambhu's compassion toward the wretched has been displayed.

Behold the fate that arises from the ripening of action, O high-minded one!

Even a base woman ascends to the supreme, disease-free station.

Because in a previous birth she gave no gift of food and the like,

she is tormented here by afflictions such as hunger and thirst.

Because, blinded by the rush of passion, she committed terrible sin,

by that action she became blind from birth in this very existence.

Because long ago, even knowing it, she ate a cow's calf,

by that action she became a despised cāṇḍāla woman here.

Because long ago she abandoned the noble path and indulged in the way of paramours,

by that sin, somehow or other, she became ill-behaved and unfortunate.

When long ago, as a widow intoxicated with passion, she embraced a paramour,

by that great sin she became afflicted with numerous leprous sores.

Because long ago, afflicted with desire, she copulated freely with a Śūdra,

by that sin she is tortured by profuse blood, pus, and worms.

She observed no good vows, nor did she perform sacrifices, charitable works, and the like;

deprived of all enjoyments, she is tormented by that sin.

Because in a previous birth she, bewildered, drank liquor,

by that sin she is tormented by the pangs of consumption and heart spasms.

In this very world, among all mortals, the signs of sin are completely

discerned, O tiger among sages, by great souls endowed with discernment.

Here, those who are stricken with many diseases, those who are bereft of sons and wealth,

and those who are afflicted with inauspicious marks, beggars destitute of shame,

deprived of clothing, food, drink, bedding, ornaments, ointments, and the like,

ill-favored, unlearned, crippled of limb, eaters of bad food,

those who are unfortunate and reviled, and others who serve outsiders—

all these were perpetrators of very great sins in a previous birth.

Deliberating thus with care, having observed the condition of people in the world,

a wise man does not commit sin; if he should commit it, he is a slayer of himself.

This human body of a living being is the sole vessel for many actions;

one should always cultivate good action and constantly shun bad action.

One who desires happiness should perform merit; one who desires misery would practice sin.

When one of the two worlds is to be attained, a skillful person,

having resorted to this extremely rare human body,

who cares for his own welfare, should take refuge in the one God alone.

Moreover, even a man who continually commits all kinds of sins,

if his mind meditates upon Śiva alone, crosses over his wickedness.

When, having died in a previous birth, she reached the abode of Yama,

there arose a very great debate among the members of Yama's court:

"Although this was a brahmin woman, she corrupted the conduct of a noble family;

therefore, she has been brought here by us. Should she go to hell or not?

Was some little particle of merit performed by her in childhood or not?

Yet only after examining it thoroughly in this manner should punishment be imposed here, not otherwise.

From the ripening of merit acquired across thousands of births,

birth in a brahmin lineage is somehow obtained by men.

Therefore, she has no sin committed in earlier and earlier births;

otherwise, how could she attain birth in a noble family?

It is in this birth alone that an insurmountable sin was committed by her;

even so, she mostly does not deserve an abode in hell.

Moreover, having killed the calf of a cow, after reflecting, terror having seized her,

she uttered 'Śiva! Śiva!' through karma earned in a former birth.

If, for the destruction of sin, even once with devotion

she utters the greatly auspicious name of Śiva, then she would go to the supreme state.

Whatever is the fruit of this dread [sin] committed in a single birth,

let her experience it gradually by being born into a cāṇḍāla caste.

For what other hell is there for men in this world than this,

namely, constant torment by multitudes of numerous afflictions?

Birth in an evil family, poverty, severe disease, stupidity—

each one alone is a hell, or indeed all together, so what more [is needed]?"

Because of the burden of merit from a previous birth, she uttered his name when she was helpless.

Through that, she will perform abundant merit in the end in another birth.

Having crossed over the torments of the flood of sins by that great merit,

led in the end by his attendants, she will attain the supreme abode.

We are not at all the rulers of such mortals.

Having deliberated himself, let the Lord himself do whatever is appropriate.

Thus in the city of the son of Vivasvat, having deliberated

with all [the ministers] led by Yama, Citragupta, and others, she was released and fell to the earth.

Because this woman, though unchaste, uttered the name of Śiva in the beginning, even by mistake,

through that merit she attained here again the virtue of worshipping Śambhu with bilva shoots.

Having fasted on Śiva's lunar day at holy Gokarṇa, upon the head of Śiva,

having kept vigil at night, she indeed performed the offering of bilva [leaves].

And whatever is the fruit of this merit performed without desire,

this very woman shall experience it this very day while you watch; [it is] not false.

Gautama said:

Having spoken thus, those messengers of Śiva, having drawn out

the particle of life from her cāṇḍāla womb, united it with divine splendor.

Her, having entered a divine body, radiant as a mass of splendor,

those pleased servants of Śiva placed on an aerial chariot.

Then, endowed with supremely noble beauty and charm,

her limbs shining with celestial ornaments, wearing divine garments,

with a body possessing divine fragrance and radiating divine splendor,

adorned with garlands of celestial flowers, seated in the aerial chariot, she shone.

Amidst jeweled parasols, banners, and the sounds of singing and musical instruments,

that fair-faced woman rejoiced in the midst of Śiva's messengers.

Remembering again and again the births she had experienced,

frightened, trembling, having seen a profound marvel, she awoke as if from a dream:

“Who am I? Who are these great perfected beings? What is this delightful world?

Where has my miserable body born of the fierce cāṇḍāla clan gone?

Ah, what a great wonder has been seen, born of the play of illusion,

in that I have wandered again and again through thousands of births!

Ah, the astonishing māhātmya of the worship of Īśvara,

who, satisfied with a mere leaf, bestows his own abode!”

Having placed her, who had thus attained detachment and was remembering the Lord's abode,

upon the celestial aerial chariot, those servants of Maheśvara,

while all the guardians of the worlds watched in wonder,

having taken leave, then brought her into the presence of Parameśvara.

O King, the exceedingly great marvel of the husband of the Mountain's Daughter has been told,

the māhātmya of a particle of devotion, which destroys the entire flood of sins.

The king said:

O Lord, what is the supreme world of Parameśa like?

Tell me its characteristics, if you have compassion for me.

Gautama said:

That bliss which is very difficult to attain even in the worlds of Brahmā and the lords of the gods,

where it exists eternally—that is the world of Parameśvara.

Where there is the transcendence of all things, where light is firmly established,

and where there is no contact with darkness anywhere—that is the world of Parameśvara.

Having crossed beyond the functioning of the qualities (guṇas), the yogins who have reached there

do not fall again, none of them—that is the world of Parameśvara.

Where anger, greed, intoxication, and the like do not dwell,

and where the states such as birth do not exist—that is the world of Parameśvara.

That which is declared to be the sole field of all Vedic scriptures,

beyond which there is no higher treasure—that is the abode of Parameśvara.

By withdrawal of the senses, postures, meditation, control of the breath, and the like,

where yogins ever strive to attain by paths of yoga,

where the god, sporting together with the goddess whose form is

eternal bliss and spotless wisdom, abides—that is the world of Parameśvara.

By heaps of merit accumulated across many thousands of births,

the men and women who have ascended there sport in company,

fully absorbed in a mass of splendor that is inconceivable and delightful.

merged in the mass of splendor, incomprehensible and delightful, / they never perceive the division of day and night and the like.

That world of the supreme Lord is indeed hard to attain for the bad yogin.

It is reached only by those who are fully filled with devotion to him.

Those who rejoice in hearing and reciting his stories, who are friends to all beings, devoted solely to tranquility,

having crossed beyond the wheel of saṃsāra and cast off delusion, attain the abode of Śaṃkara and rejoice in bliss.

Therefore you too, O king of kings, go to Gokarṇa, the abode of Giriśa,