Skandapurana 5.29

Sūta said: / When all the sacred fords were thus situated, O best of brahmins, / that sacred field attained renown over the whole surface of the earth.

From everywhere, not far away, sages of celebrated vows resort to it; / then kings accompanied by old age [resort to it] for the sake of austerity.

Likewise, self-controlled ascetics desiring perfection from all around / resort to that sacred field, the refuge of all sacred fords.

There is a liṅga there named Siddheśvara, O best of brahmins, / which grants all perfections to mortals, itself bestowing perfections.

Becoming indifferent to the earthly realm, Śarva, the all-pervading Sadāśiva, / the god himself, remained in this sacred field named Hāṭakeśvara.

The Lord Hara himself became manifest in the form of a liṅga, / granting all perfections always through remembrance and darśana.

Because he was worshipped by a siddha, he is therefore known as Siddheśvara. / Indeed, through granting him a boon, Hara has stayed right here.

Whatever person sees him with true devotion or, being pure, touches him, / immediately obtains what is desired, even if it be very difficult to attain.

In the past, hundreds of persons on earth attained perfection there: / some men through darśana, others through touch, and others through prostration.

Having approached Dakṣiṇāmūrti, whoever, endowed with faith, / chants his six-syllable mantra, his lifespan increases.

For as many times as he chants the mantra, so many days / a mortal lives beyond his lifespan; there is no doubt about this.

The seers said: / This is most wondrous, O Sūta, which has been recounted by you, / that a human being, a mortal, may live even beyond his lifespan.

Sūta said: / Here I shall recount to you what was heard by me myself / as the great-souled Vatsa was speaking concerning that.

Formerly, while I was living here in front, in my father's house, / that sage of great splendour named Vatsa arrived there,

bearing the state of youth, with splendour equal to twelve suns, / richly endowed with beauty in all his limbs, like a second Kāmadeva.

He was seen then by my father and greeted with devotion; / then, having given the water offering, he was addressed with modesty when he was rested:

'Welcome to you, O chief of brahmins! Whence have you come here? / Let a command be given to me. What may I do as is fitting?'

Vatsa said: / 'In your hermitage, O Sūta, I wish to perform the practice / pertaining to the four months of the rainy season, if you will render me service.'

Lomaharṣaṇa said: / 'Thus I shall do your bidding without doubt, O brahmin. / I am blessed, I am favoured, that you have come to my house.'

Having spoken thus, that father of mine said to me, O best of brahmins: / 'Service to Vatsa must be rendered by you continually.'

Then I, filled with modesty, performed all his tasks completely, / and at night he recounted wondrous tales to me,

of royal seers of old, of gods, Dānavas, and Rākṣasas, / and of continents and mountains, having seen thousands himself.

Once, however, at the end of a narrative, having become curious, / that brahmin was asked by me whose mind was overcome with astonishment, O best of brahmins:

'O venerable one, your body is tender, your age is in its prime, / yet you narrate wondrous stories of the continents one by one.

How was the entire surface of the earth, along with the oceans, seen / at such a tender age, father? Tell me in detail.

Those continents, oceans, and mountains that have been recounted by you / cannot be reached even in thought by mortals in any way.

Curiosity has arisen here, hearing such an unbelievable statement / from one whose words are trustworthy; therefore tell the truth.

Is this the power of austerity, or the might of a mantra, / by which the whole surface of the earth was seen by you, O lord of sages?

Or is it the grace of a god, or effected by an herb? / Tell me that most holy thing in full detail, dear father.'

Then, O best among sages, that sage smiled and said to me:
“You have rightly understood this to be the power of my mantra.

I always recite one thousand and eight times in the presence of Śiva
the six-syllabled mantra of Śiva.

By virtue of that, O sage, my youth has become firmly established for the three times,
as well as knowledge of the past and future, and a life bringing forth happiness.

Many thousands and millions of years have passed for me,
O fortunate one, yet my age appears to be the prime of life.

In this matter I shall recount to you in detail, O noble-minded one,
how perfection was attained by me through the grace of Śaṃkara.

Formerly, I was a brahmin known by the name of Vatsa on the earth,
who had practiced various scriptures and mastered the Vedas.

At that very time, Menakā, an excellent apsaras,
arrived by chance in the mortal world during the spring season.

Wandering about, she then went to that forest named Kāmyaka,
which was rich with the calls of rutting cuckoos and filled with delightful trees,

where dwelt a tiger among sages known as Devarāta,
endowed with vows and Vedic recitation, his sins destroyed by austerity.

Seated on the riverbank, devoted to worshiping the deity,
endowed with supreme faith, he was alone in the desolate forest.

Then, as he looked on, she entered the water without clothes—
that fair-complexioned woman endowed with celestial beauty, afflicted by the heat.

Then the semen of that lord of sages was instantly discharged
upon seeing her, lovely in every limb, having entered the middle of the water.

Meanwhile, a very thirsty doe arrived;
she drank the semen mixed with the water, completely and without remainder.

Then, through the power of the unfailing semen, she too bore a human fetus,
and in the tenth month she gave birth.

The doe with radiant limbs gave birth to a maiden with eyes like lotus petals
in that very sacred water, near Devarāta’s hermitage.

Then that sage, recognizing by his inner knowledge that she was born of his own semen,
was overwhelmed with supreme compassion; he took her and raised her.

Filled with great affection, having performed the auspicious rites of childhood,
he protected her with effort from beasts of prey in the forest.

For her sake he brought very sweet, fine fruits,
having gone far away himself in the forest teeming with beasts of prey.

Staying there, she grew, known by the name Mṛgāvatī,
like a digit of the moon in the sky during the bright fortnight.

Then, as I was wandering, she of deer-like eyes was seen by me;
thereupon, I was instantly struck in the heart by the arrow of Kāma.

And knowing that sweet-smiling maiden to be of the same caste,
I respectfully went to his dwelling and then asked the sage:

“O brahmin, give this daughter of yours to me for a wife;
I will nurture her like my own self, with food, clothing, and the like.”

Then he gave the beautiful girl to me that very moment,
according to the rule seen in the scriptures, under the constellation presided over by Bhaga.

Then, after a few days, she who was married by me, full of wonder,
went out into the forest with her female companions in search of fruit.

Now, in that forest densely covered with creepers and well established,
her foot was placed upon the head of a serpent concealed by grass.

Suddenly bitten by it, she fell to the ground;
afflicted by poison, that lovely woman lost her life that very instant.

Then her friends, gathered together, grieving with her grief,
wept and reported what had occurred to me, O son of Sūta.

Then I went in haste, and seeing her fallen on the ground,
I, wretched, uttered laments, weeping with a plaintive voice:

“This wide-eyed woman, my beloved who was equal to my mind and life,
lies dead on the earth; deprived of her, I have no desire to live.

Today I will go to the other world along with her;
what is the use of a life, and of a mansion, bereft of the beloved?

Even with sons, grandsons, daughters-in-law, and a host of servants,
the homes of householders do not shine when bereft of a wife.

If this slender-limbed, sweet-voiced woman with broad hips,
whose eyes reach to her ears, does not live, I shall surely die.”

As I was lamenting thus, O son of Sūta, uplifter of your family,
all my friends arrived, and they too wept in sorrow.

Having wept for a long time there together with them, and having prepared a great pyre,
I placed her [upon it] and then set fire to it.

Then, with difficulty, taking hold of me, they led me toward my own house,
as I was weeping, stumbling, and fainting at every step.

Then, before the night was over, I arose in haste,
my soul overwhelmed by grief for my beloved, and went back to that very forest.

Driven mad by desire, wandering here and there,
continually lamenting, afflicted with grief in the forest deserted by people:

“Where have you gone, O wide-eyed one, leaving me in this solitude?
Cruel to my grief, I will not return home.

At the touch of dawn's rays, this moon relinquishes its luster
at the end of night, rendered dispirited by fate just as I am.

Here rises the sun, a slender red orb;
surely he will tell me some news concerning you.

Pervading the sky, the sun scorches me intensely;
with passion outside and inside, how shall I endure my life?

The lord of elephants approaches of his own accord, carrying
two frontal globes resembling her breasts; I shall go and ask him if he can tell of that beloved.”

As I was lamenting in this manner, great delusion overtook me,
scorched by the sun's rays and agitated by passion.

Whatever I saw there while wandering in the great forest—
whether a tree or a living creature—I asked it out of delusion:

“O elephant, if you have seen that young woman whose two thighs
resemble your tusk-pestles, speak, taking pity on me!”

"O rose-apple tree, if you have seen my beloved / whose lips resemble the bimba fruit, then tell me; great good will be yours. / 75

Or else, O bilva tree, declare if you have seen wandering in the forest / my beloved, equal to my very life, whose breasts resemble bilva fruits. / 76

Her limbs are like your blossoms, that wise wife of mine; / if you know [her], O campaka, tell me quickly. / 77

O madhūka, my beloved's lovely cheeks, pale in hue, / are like your blossom; seeing you, the memory has come to me. / 78

O plantain stem, clearly the thighs of my slender-limbed beloved / are far softer even than you; by truth I swear upon myself! / 79

O deer, have you not seen my wife here in the forest? / Her distinct eyes, adorned with collyrium, are just like yours. / 6.29.80

Even a beast, a grass-eater, though very old and grown old in the forest— / even that deer, abandoned by his mate, takes no pleasure for a moment. / 81

The peacock constantly displays his plumage before his mate, / though born of the avian womb, to increase the power of the flower-bowed god. / 82

This swan who is seen here longs for his mate; / but his gait is not like the gait of my beloved. / 83

Most fortunate is this cakravāka bird alone, / who does not leave his beloved female cakravāka even for an instant. / 84

This cry that is heard, causing me delirium— / has it arisen from a cuckoo, or has it arisen from my beloved? / 85

Seeing me, this deer runs away, and the female deer follows behind him; / running thus, my beloved also used to follow me in the past. / 86

This elephant touches with the tip of his trunk his cherished mate / who follows him out of love, reminding me of my beloved. / 87

Alas, my beloved, with eyes like a fawn's, resembling molten gold! / How do you not recognise me wandering here in the forest? / 88

Where is that devotion, where is that affection, where is that satisfaction, where is that compassion? / For you do not answer me as I lament so piteously!" / 89

As I was lamenting thus, my kinsmen arrived, / searching for my footprints there in the rugged forests. / 6.29.90

Then, their eyes red with anger, O son of Sūta, / rebuking me with harsh words, they said: "Fie on you, now full of lust! / 91

Why do you grieve, foolish-minded one, over the life of men, which is not to be grieved over? / For others will grieve for you too, who are now grieving. / 92

You, we, and all other living beings born on earth— / every single one of us shall die; what lamentation can there be over that? / 93

From invisibility your beloved came, and to invisibility she has gone again. / She is not yours, nor are you hers; why do you grieve in vain? / 94

This dwelling together of anyone with anyone is not permanent— / even with one's own body, let alone with other people in vain! / 95

Whether dead or lost, whoever grieves for what is gone / attains sorrow upon sorrow and incurs two evils." / 96

Having admonished me thus and seized me repeatedly with the help of the people, / they all led me home from that dreadful forest. / 97

Then, as I stayed at home remembering that beloved, / a very great rage arose [in me] against serpents, O noble-minded one. / 98

Then, overcome with anger, I clearly swore a vow / concerning all serpents; hear that dreadful [vow]: / 99

"From this day forward, if I do not strike down with a blow of a stick / any serpent that comes within range of my sight, may that sin surely be mine: / 6.29.100

Whatever [sin belongs] to thieves of deposits and whatever to betrayers of trust— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 101

Whatever sin lies in reviling the virtuous, and whatever in killing mother and father— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 102

Whatever sin belongs to those devoted to another's wife and to the slayers of living beings— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 103

Whatever sin belongs to those who delight in slander and to poisoners— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 104

Whatever sin belongs to the ungrateful and to stealers of others' wealth— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 105

Whatever sin belongs to wielders of weapons [against the innocent] and to incendiaries— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 106

Whatever sin comes from breaking a vow and also from reviling those who observe vows— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 107

Whatever sin lies in destroying an embryo, and whatever belongs to those who feast on savory meat— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 108

Whatever sin belongs to those intent on felling trees and to thorn-makers— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 109

Whatever sin belongs to heretics and whatever belongs to atheists— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 6.29.110

Whatever sin belongs to those addicted to meat and liquor and to eaters of feces— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 111

Whatever sin belongs to those addicted to lying and to seekers of others' faults— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 112

Whatever sin belongs to [false] witnesses and to hoarders of grain— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 113

Whatever sin belongs to those addicted to hunting and to set-net trappers— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 114

Whatever sin belongs to those constantly sending others [on harsh errands] and to those who live by gathering honey— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 115

Whatever sin belongs to those who never look upon the face of God and to those who live by fishing— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight! / 116

When questioned in a dispute, to those who speak with partiality / out of fear, or out of greed, or out of malice, or even out of lust— / 117

Whatever sin belongs to those merciless, wicked-hearted ones— / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within range of my sight!" / 118

Whatever sin attaches to those sinful people who sell their daughters / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within my sight.

Whatever sin is proclaimed of those who sell sacred knowledge / may that be mine if I do not slay a serpent that comes within my sight.

Having thus made a vow, overcome with anger, O son of Sūta, / I took up a thick club for the sake of slaying the breath-eaters (serpents).

From then on I wandered the earth, armed with a club, / abandoning the brahmin's way of life and searching for serpents.

Filled with wrath, I killed many serpents, / terrible with poison, huge in body, and others middling and low.

Once, armed with my club, I reached a dense forest / and saw lying there an aged water-serpent.

Then, raising my staff like the rod of Death, in rage, / as I was just about to kill him, that serpent spoke to me:

"I have done you no wrong, O best of brahmins! / Why then do you, in such fury, seek to kill me who am advanced in age?"

Then I said to that water-serpent in anger, / seized by great grief upon remembering my wife Mṛgāvatī: / "Formerly my beloved wife was destroyed by a serpent.

Therefore, out of that enmity, I slaughter the great serpents. / Today I will send you too to the house of Yama, son of Vivasvat, / killing you with a blow of my staff; therefore remember your most cherished deity!"

Then he spoke to me again, overcome by great fear: / "First hear my words, and then do as you see fit.

Those are other serpents, O brahmin, that bite human beings in this world; / we are born of water, free from venom, merely serpent in form."

Though he spoke thus, O Sūta, he was struck by me with my staff / with an unhesitating mind, for the purpose of slaying him.

Then, from the touch of the club, instantly that serpent / became a great person resplendent like twelve suns.

Beholding that wonder, filled with astonishment, / I bowed down deeply to him and said respectfully, "Forgive me!

Who are you? Why was this serpent-form assumed by you, O lord? / Or was this a curse of a brahmin, or was it some kind of sport?"

Then that person, delighted and full of modesty, said to me: / "Listen attentively; I shall tell you my own story.

Formerly, O brahmin, I was a youth in the excellent city of Camatkārapura, / of supreme brilliance, wealthy, and endowed with great prosperity.

In that very charming city there is a holy abode of Śiva, / of the god Siddheśvara, adorned with banners.

At a certain time, a pilgrimage-festival took place there; / by the sound of musical instruments there, the three worlds were made to resound.

Then sages of rigid vows arrived there / by the hundreds and by the thousands for the darśana of the god:

Śaivas, Pāśupatas, and also Kāpālikas, / and others observing the great vows, devoted to the worship of Śiva;

some eating once a day, some fasting, others feeding on air, / drinking only water, eating only fruit, and eating fallen leaves.

Having duly saluted the god of gods, Maheśvara, / they sat down before him and told various stories

of royal sages of ancient times and of the lords of the gods, rejoicing, / endowed with compassion and righteousness, and many others as well.

Some danced there, and others sang; / virtuous men endowed with devotion played musical instruments in abundance.

Others, wealthy and endowed with faith, gave gifts / to the poor, the blind, the wretched, and especially to ascetics.

While such a great and exalted festival was going on there, / I arrived along with many others, arrogant with youth,

hating the darśana of Śiva, my mind enveloped in darkness, / incited by other wicked men to ruin the festive pilgrimage.

Taking a very long water-serpent of fearsome appearance, / licking its tongue again and again, overcome by extreme old age,

I hurled it there into the gathering of great people; / seeing it, all the people scattered, afflicted with fear of death.

There was an ascetic there named Suprabha, of strict vows, / absorbed in meditation, accompanied by good disciples, his sins burned away by austerity.

Keeping his neck motionless, very firm, straight, neither too rigid nor bent, / maintaining the slender frame of his body steady in every part with effort,

gazing at the tip of his own nose and not looking at the directions, / with the tip of his tongue motionless in the middle of his palate,

seeing the solar orb residing in the central pericarp / of the downward-facing eight-petaled lotus within the vortex,

and in its center [seeing] another person the size of a thumb, / resplendent like twelve suns, of inconceivable form,

seeing Maheśvara, the Lord of Physicians, seated in the lotus posture, / whom they declare to be the imperishable, all-pervading, all-knowing,

irreproachable, indivisible, free from old age and death, / his whole body bristling with horripilation, under the sway of yogic sleep,

wet with tears of joy, his senses restrained, / retaining the five vital airs within his abdomen by long practice,

joining his thumb and forefinger, placed at his heart— / as he sat there thus, that serpent coiled

around the body of that motionless mahātman with its coils. / In the meantime, there was a disciple of his, endowed with great austerity,

known as Śrīvardhana, who had exerted himself in various scriptures. / Seeing his guru coiled around on all sides by the coils of the serpent,

and realizing that I, standing not far off, was the doer of that deed, / he spoke harsh words, his eyes reddened with anger:

With both lips trembling and a voice choked with tears: / 'If I have performed good austerity through constant service to my guru,

and if Maheśvara has been meditated upon with an unwavering mind, / by that truth, may this wicked, sinful, lowest of brahmins, / by whom my guru was insulted, swiftly take on such a body!'

Then at that very instant I attained the dreadful state of a serpent, / while all the people looked on, saying, 'Well done! Well done!'

Then, having reached the end of his samādhi, the self-controlled sage / saw resting upon his own body a two-tongued creature of dreadful form.

Then [he saw] me, in the form of a serpent, filled with great sorrow, / and likewise all the people standing nearby, terrified with fear.

Then, knowing all that through his eye of wisdom, / the sage, overcome with compassion, spoke angrily to his disciple Śrīvardhana:

'Disciple, you have not done what is pleasing to me by performing this deed, / cursing a wretched brahmin; this is not the duty of ascetics.

Equal in honor and dishonor, seeing a lump of earth, a stone, and gold as the same, / regarding friend and foe alike—such an ascetic attains perfection.

Therefore, my child, this brahmin was cursed by you unwittingly / out of childishness; by my command, favor should be extended to him once again.'

Then Śrīvardhana, bowing down to his guru, / overcome by indignation, stood with joined palms and said:

'Whether from ignorance or knowledge, the word that has been spoken by me / is indeed so; there is no doubt. Therefore, O guru, keep silent.

No false word has ever been uttered by me, even in jest, O guru; / how much less when it concerns your welfare! Therefore, practice silence.

The sun may rise in the west, the great ocean may dry up, / and even Mount Meru may crumble, but my word shall not prove otherwise.'

To that disciple, the guru spoke again in gentle words: / 'I know that your word can never become otherwise.

A disciple, even when grown of age, must always be carefully instructed; / how much more so when you are still a boy! Therefore, I speak to you repeatedly.

No one exhausts the previously accumulated virtue of sages; / but for those deprived of austerity and virtue, no [good] destination exists.

Forbearance alone is said to grant perfection, especially to ascetics.

Therefore, placing forbearance foremost, ascetics must conduct themselves.

One should not be evil toward evil; this is the eternal wisdom. / The sinner who commits evil is destroyed by his own self.

Bereft of right knowledge, he who repays evil with evil / burns that which is already burned and strikes that which is already slain.

What virtue is there in his goodness, who is good to those who help? / He alone is praised by people who is good to those who do harm.'

Having spoken thus to that disciple, Suvrata of laudable vows, / filled with supreme compassion, then spoke this to me:

'The word of my disciple will not be otherwise, O serpent. / Therefore, remaining in the body of a serpent, wait for some time.'

The serpent said: / 'At what time, O best of sages, will my curse come to an end? / Show favor to me, wretched and ignorant of the curse.'

Suvrata said: / 'He who performs singing and other [arts] in the abode of Śiva, even for a moment— / the measure of his merit cannot be calculated, good sir.

And he who creates an obstacle in a great festival, even for a moment— / the measure of his sin indeed cannot be calculated by anyone.

Therefore you, a sinful brahmin, will not attain liberation / through mere conversation, O evil-minded one; therefore, listen to my words.

Whoever, endowed with faith, recites the six-syllabled Śaiva mantra, / even the sin born of slaying a brahmin is destroyed for him.

With ten [repetitions] a man washes away sin born of a day; with twenty, that of a year, / by the recitation of the six-syllabled [mantra].

Therefore, staying within the water, recite that mantra with reverence, / by which sin, even committed in another birth, goes to destruction.

When, while you are in the water, a twice-born named Vatsa strikes you / in anger with a stick, then you shall attain liberation.

Therefore, go quickly from this place, O serpent, to a reservoir of water.' / Having spoken what was agreeable to me, that good sage fell silent.

Then, filled with sorrow, I arrived here at this reservoir of water, / and constantly remained reciting the six-syllabled mantra.

By your favor, O best of brahmins, I am freed from the state of a serpent. / What pleasant thing may I do for you today? Therefore, speak quickly.

You are indeed he named Vatsa who was described to me / by Suvrata, without doubt. Behold, this aerial chariot approaches for me.'

Then that serpent, who had assumed a divine form, was properly addressed by me: / 'O venerable one, give me some auspicious instruction,

by which sorrow arising from the loss of dear ones does not arise, / nor poverty, nor disease, nor defeat by enemies.'

Then that excellent person, full of eagerness, spoke to me again: / 'A heavy burden of questions has been posed by you to me, O best of the twice-born.

And this cannot be spoken of at length when the aerial chariot has arrived. / Therefore, I shall tell you briefly, O twice-born.