An Account From The Adi Parva: II
Rituals have long served as a solace for humanity, offering a sense of comfort and peace from the dread of the material world. During these sacred yagnas, flames danced in the presence of gods and mortals, and bards took center stage with enchanting tales to please the priests and their patrons. Yet, while providing answers, these rites left a void in spiritual understanding. It is within this void that tales gained purpose, as their stories found a thread to stitch the tear between the tangible and the intangible.
The tale of the snake sacrifice remains a reoccurring lesson on both the consequences of yagnas and the movement of the karmic cycle. The story begins with Veda’s disciple, Uttanaka, who once when Veda temporarily left his ashram, was urged to engage in relations with Veda’s wife, as she was in her fertility period. However, Uttanka, guided by his principles and duty to his guru, refused to comply, considering the act immoral. Later, as Uttanka completed his study, he sought guidance from Veda regarding the gurudakshina. But with a churn in fate, Veda suggested that Uttanka ask his wife and grant her desired gift instead. With the fertility incident hazing her decision, Veda’s wife demanded the earrings of King Pushya’s queen, intending to wear them during a religious fast. Yet, determined to meet this request, Uttanka embarked on the task.
The journey lead Uttanka to the king’s palace grounds. There, he relayed the request for the earrings. Pushya directed him to meet the queen, who reluctantly granted them, warning Uttanka of the naga king Takshaka’s desire to obtain the divine earrings and advising him to be cautious.
As Uttanka ventured back to Veda’s ashram, he bathed in a river, leaving his belongings on the bank. At that moment, a disguised Takshaka stole the earrings and swiftly transformed into his serpent form, slithering into Naga-loka.
Uttanka attempted to pursue Takshaka but was to no avail. However, witnessing his plight Indra sent the Vajra to aid in carving a tunnel to Naga-loka. Once inside, Uttanka commenced praising the virtues of Takshaka and his clan in the hopes that the king would comply, but to his dismay, Takshaka refused to relinquish the earrings.
Feeling despaired and with the heart to succumb, Uttanka, while leaving, encountered two women weaving threads of black and white on a wheel with twelve spokes, turned by six men and a horserider. Uttanka applauded the weaving, and delighted by his recognition, the company asked Uttanka whether they could be of service.
Uttanka seized this chance and asked for the power to control the nagas, which the rider urged him to gain by blowing at the back of the horse. Following his act, flames emerged from the horse, engulfing the realm of the serpents in fire and smoke. Frightened, Takshaka emerged from hiding and surrendered the earrings to Uttanka. But Uttanka was still worried about reaching Veda’s ashram before the designated time and so was granted the rider’s horse, which swiftly hauled him back just before sunset, as Veda’s wife was about to cast a curse for his tardiness.
Uttanka then narrated his remarkable voyage and how he obtained the earrings, and Veda elucidated the profound sense of the sights Uttanka glimpsed in Nagaloka. According to him, the women weaving the threads were Dhata and Vidhata, the ones liable for the world’s creation. The twelve-spoked wheel denoted the year’s days, and the six young people symbolized the seasons. Veda further inferred the part Uttanka’s friend Indra played to support him in his role, as the horse and rider were none other than Indra and Agni themselves.
Eventually, Uttanka bid farewell and embarked on a dhouthya. He desired to prove to Takshaka the king who had caused him so much trouble. With concealed vengeance and loathe in his heart, Uttanka ventured to the kingdom of King Parikshit in Hastinapur, where he wished to be marked.
Consumed with his longing to avenge the theft, he embarked on the great serpent sacrifice, the Sarpa Sattra.
Arun Kolatkar’s work, ‘Sarpa Sattra,’ better delves into this realm of mythological antiquity, exploring a human world consumed by an insatiable appetite for vengeance, violence, and annihilation. With astute craftsmanship, the poet deftly employs the myth of the snake sacrifice wherein King Janmejaya resolved to avenge his father Parikshita’s assassination through a ritual that would compel all serpents to self-immolate within a sacrificial flame.
In this composition, Kolatkar skillfully reimagines the age-old tale of the snake sacrifice, infusing it with an ultramodern idiom that challenges the conventional dominant narrative. Typically, such records tend to glorify individuals in positions of power and the inexplicable acts they undertake, regardless of their inherent cruelty and disregard for humanity.
But by his approach, Kolatkar endeavors to subvert this established master narrative, undermining its authority. By doing so, he casts a critical light on the potent forces that drive the human psyche, revealing the inherent flaws and destructive tendencies that permeate our collective consciousness.
Parikshit, while indulging in a hunting expedition, inadvertently lost his way while pursuing a fleet-footed deer within the dense confines of the forest. Exhausted and plagued by thirst, fate led him to encounter a hermit named Shamika. Unbeknownst to the king, this sagacious recluse had taken a solemn vow of silence. However, Parikshit, oblivious to the hermit’s oath, implored him for information and pleaded to him for a sip of water, but bound by his vow, Shamika remained firm in his silence. Incensed by this perceived insolence, Parikshit, consumed by anger, callously placed a lifeless serpent around the hermit’s neck as an act of retribution. When Shringi, the hermit’s child, returned, he was incensed by Parikshit’s audacious display of arrogance. He reproached his father, highlighting the king’s disdainful treatment of Brahmins.
Shringi regarded these individuals as paragons of modesty and erudition, leading lives of frugality. He lamented that the king displayed a distinct lack of reverence toward them despite their wisdom and knowledge. This feeling was expounded upon the symbiotic relationship between kings and Brahmins, emphasizing that the monarchs supported and patronized the learned class. Their financial assistance facilitated the Brahmins’ pursuit of knowledge and spared them from the toils of livelihood.
Shamika, a discerning man, reasoned with his impassioned son. Still unyielding in his conviction, Shringi refused to be dissuaded from his belief that a transgression of such magnitude must not go unpunished. Fueled by righteous indignation, he cursed the king to die of a snake bite in seven days and divulged the entire incident to Takshaka, the mighty king of the Nagas, urging him to avenge Parikshit’s impious act by ending his life.
Guards diligently monitored each entrance and every aperture of the tower. A meticulous scrutiny was employed upon every item crossing the threshold, for the Nagas could conceal themselves in the most inconspicuous places. Upon the advent of the seventh day, a famished Parikshit succumbed to temptation and partook of a fruit. Hidden within its layers was a dormant larva, which promptly transformed into the formidable serpent, Takshaka. Swift and unyielding, Takshaka lunged forward, inflicting his lethal fangs upon Parikshit’s vulnerable flesh. The venom, spreading with celerity, elicited agonized cries from Parikshit, yet before any of the guards could hasten to his aid, he had already fallen, and the Naga clandestinely slithered away.
In a separate account, the noble Parikshit embarked upon a hunting expedition within the verdant confines of the forest. Upon reaching a particular juncture, he paused and sought respite in a calm lake, immersing himself in a purifying ablution. Before entering the water, Parikshit placed his regal crown upon the bank of the adjacent river. Serendipitously, Takshaka, a revered naga monarch, chanced upon the resplendent golden diadem and became enamored with its allure, harboring an intense yearning to possess it. Succumbing to this covetous impulse, Takshaka appropriated the crown, only to be apprehended by Parikshit’s vigilant retinue. Consequently, Parikshit ordered the serpent king’s confinement within a secure enclosure. Subsequently, following Takshaka’s release from captivity, the serpent harbored an implacable vendetta against Parikshit, exacting a merciless and fatal retribution upon him. It is said that the deity Kali assumed a physical form encompassing gold, inciting the innate longing for this precious metal within the human psyche. While in another, propelled by Shringi’s fervent emotional plea, Takshaka, disguised as a hermit, approaches Parikshit, seeking an audience with the unsuspecting king. In an unfortunate turn of events, Takshaka presented Parikshit with a fruit teeming with writhing worms. Regrettably, due to Parikshit’s lack of awareness and discernment, this seemingly innocuous offering became the catalyst for his untimely demise.
As the newly crowned king and Parakshit’s son Janamejaya heard of the occurrence surrounding his father’s demise, he vengefully swore to the end of all nagas. Coincidentally when Uttanka arrived lacking the means to execute this elaborate ritual, fate intervened in the form of King Janamejaya’s loss. Oblivious to the underlying motivations of others involved, The young king believed his sole purpose was to avenge his father’s demise. Little did he know, the sacrificial rite harbored diverse intentions, interweaving personal vendettas and collective enmity. The texts reveal how the sacrifice became the unwitting instrument through which multiple desires converged, leading to wrathful marks.
In due course, a torrent surged at the heart of Hastinapura, giving rise to a towering cascade of ebony mist that soared toward the heavens. Encircling the sacred altar were multitudes of priests whose voices chanted arcane hymns, invoking forces that beckoned the Nagas from their subterranean abodes, drawing them into the swirling depths of the aqueous abyss. Soon, Hastinapura beheld a scene of writhing nagas enticed from the sky, converging above the hall. The ambiance resounded with the agonizing cries of the nagas immolating alive. Admists the screams, a voice from the horizon interjected with a vehement outcry, “Cease, O king! This is adharma.”
“Who dared to accuse me of adharma?” thundered Janamejaya.
“I am Astika, scion of Vasuki, the sovereign of the Nagas. My sire was the venerable Rishi Jaratkaru, a Manava like yourself. My mother, on the other hand, was a Naga. I stand as a confluence of your likeness and your adversary, embodying both the human and serpentine realms. I do not espouse partiality. Lend your ear to my discourse, for otherwise, you shall deny tranquility to countless generations that follow,” Astika apprised. Janmajeya was intrigued and commanded the Naga to continue. Astika began to tell the incident between his father, Parakshit, and the sage that ultimately led to his curse, retelling tales of Uttanka and Takshaka, “Thus, you perceive Janamejaya, your father brought his demise upon himself.”
Astika proceeded to tell the tale of Takshaka’s strive for misery, the burning of khandavaprastha, “Long ago, The padava Arjuna engulfed a forest known as Khandavaprastha with the intent of clearing the land for their city, Indraprastha. This very woodland served as the dwelling of numerous Nagas. The flames rendered Takshaka and his ilk bereft of their abode and orphaned. It was then that Takshaka, Fueled by vengeance and grief, vowed to exact retribution upon the Kuru Clan. The demise of your father was the culmination of his vendetta. The Nagas once again writhe in agony within your sacrificial hall, engendering further loss and perpetuating the cycle of retribution. You tread the path charted by your ancestors, unwittingly subjecting yourself to their same sufferings. The blood shall flow, and widows shall lament as they once did in the vast expanse of Kurukshetra. Is this truly the outcome you desire, Janamejaya?” Astika’s resonant query reverberated throughout the hall, silencing the hymns and the flickering flames.
‘Takshaka is poisonous. Leaving him alive on earth is a curse.’
‘Shounaka, there is no amudham without poison. Takshaka is icon of desire, the cause of all karyakarma motivations.’
Janamejaya straightened his posture and responded with unwavering conviction, “I undertake this endeavor in pursuit of justice.” Impassioned, Astika retorted, “Takshaka slew your father in the name of justice. And now you seek to annihilate the Nagas in the name of justice. The orphans that shall arise from this ritual will also yearn for justice. Who, then, possesses the authority to define what justice truly entails? How can we break free from this continuous spiral of vengeance, where each faction believes in the righteousness of their cause and the wrongness of their adversaries?” After a moment of introspection, Janamejaya posed a question with a hint of hesitation, “Did the Pandavas not engage in the great war against the Kauravas in pursuit of justice?”Astika replied firmly, “No, Janmajeya. That war was waged in the name of dharma. Dharma transcends the realm of justice; it immerses in empathy and wisdom. Dharma is not about overpowering. Rather it is conquering the inner self. In the domain of dharma, there is no loss.”
Astika continued, “There is much that eludes your knowledge. Although you inherited the Pandavas’ rule, their wisdom has is yet to be bestowed upon you. You remain oblivious to the true essence of dharma.” Piquing the Assembly’s interest, Astika called for the guardian of Vyasa’s grand tale. To let him narrate the saga composed by his guru and transcribed by the omniscient Ganesha. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the audience eagerly awaited the recitation. Astika’s call for the storyteller carried with it the weight of reverence, for within the folds of this epic tale lay the wisdom and enlightenment that would illuminate the path before them, as the eyes of the assembly fixed upon the figure of the guardian, Vaisampayana.
He settled upon a deerskin, an emblem of ancient wisdom, while a delicate garland of fragrant flowers adorned his neck, symbolizing the essence of beauty and grace. Before him lay a vessel of water, symbolizing purity, and a basket of fruits, signifying the abundant fruits of knowledge that were about to be shared.
It was a scene of utmost respect and reverence, setting the stage for the imminent unfolding of the grand narrative. In the hushed anticipation, the words from the Gita echoed in the hearts of those present, resonating with divine significance. All were keenly aware that a flowing river of enlightenment lay within the labyrinth of intertwining narratives and elaborate ruses. For Janamejaya, this moment represented more than mere curiosity about his lineage; it was an opportunity to transcend the confines of his existence and delve into the evergreen perspicuity that would shape his understanding of dharma, morality, and the very essence of human existence.
