Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 1 – Sabhākriyā and Lokapāla Sabhāvarṇana - Chapter 4 - The Celestial Assemblies II

Nārada said:

“O Yudhiṣṭhira, the celestial sabhā of Varuṇa, Lord of the Western quarter and keeper of cosmic law, is peerless in splendour. It mirrors in magnitude the hall of Yama, but its essence is altogether different—an empire of waters, serenity, and translucent light.

Built by Viśvakarmā, the divine architect, it rests not on earth nor in the heavens, but within the waters themselves, its halls gleaming like crystal foam. Its walls and arches shine with a brilliance of pure white, yet are cool to the eyes, soothing like the moonlit tide. Around this watery palace bloom forests of celestial trees, crafted not from wood, but from gems and glowing jewels, their fruits and flowers of divine fragrance and taste.

Trees of lapis, fruit of flame,

Blossoms chant the ocean’s name.

Jewelled branches bend with grace—

The Lord of Waters’ dwelling place.

Among these stand bowers formed by flowering vines—some blue as sapphire, some golden as lightning, others dark, bright, pale, or deep red. These bowers are alive with birds of myriad kinds, adorned in dazzling colors and ever singing melodious notes. Their songs echo across the hall like Vedic hymns upon rippling waves.

The climate of that assembly hall is neither cold nor hot. It bears a tranquil constancy, a perfect serenity untouched by time or season. Within this exquisite palace of many chambers and adorned with countless seats, sits Varuṇa, robed in celestial cloth, his body perfumed with heavenly unguents, and adorned with divine ornaments and wreaths. Beside him, his queen sits radiant, bedecked in jewels, her form as luminous as water touched by starlight.

Ever surrounding them are the Ādityas, deities born of Aditi, offering homage to their brother, the Ocean-Keeper. Around Varuṇa also gather the mighty Nāgas—serpents of immense power and auspicious signs upon their hoods. Present among them are:

Vāsuki, the king of serpents, and Takṣaka, born of wrath;

Airāvata, of vast coils and wisdom;

Kṛṣṇa and Lohita, their eyes gleaming like coral;

Padma and Citrā, resplendent and still;

Kāmvala and Aśvatara, bearing divine energy;

Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Vālahaka, guardians of clouds;

Matimat and Kuṇḍadhāra, Karkoṭaka, and Dhanañjaya;

Pāṇimat and Kuṇḍaka, as strong as thunder;

Prahlāda and Muṣikāda, ancient and revered;

and even Janamejaya, son of royal dharma, now transformed.

All these serpents, with mandalas of power etched upon their hoods, dwell there without fear or sorrow, basking in the presence of the Ocean-Born Lord.

Beneath the waves of turquoise peace,

Their hooded forms find joy’s release.

No coil of pain, no fang of strife—

They wait on Varuṇa, full of life.

Alongside them are mighty Daityas and Dānavas, ancient enemies of the gods, now tamed by dharma and bound by pacts of old. Among them dwell:

Vāli, son of Virocana, and Naraka, earth’s conqueror;

Saṅgraha and Vipracitti, Kālakañjas and Suhanu;

Durmukha, Śaṅkha, Sumanas, Sumati;

Ghaṭodara, mighty Mahāpārśva, Kārthana, Piṭhara, and Viśvarūpa;

Svarūpa, Virūpa, Mahāśiras, and Daśagrīva, with ten faces of fury;

Meghavāsas and Daśavara, storm-bearing warriors;

Tiṭṭiva, Vitabhūta, Saṅghrada, and Indratāpana.

These Daityas and Dānavas, though once titans of terror, now wear garlands, earrings, and crowns of celestial elegance. Attired in divine robes and blessed with immortality, they have become residents of virtue, followers of vow and law, ever devoted to Varuṇa, the deity who wields the noose of cosmic order.

They stand as testimony, O Bhārata, to truth’s redemptive power—for even those born in darkness, if turned toward dharma, may shine like stars in the sabhā of the gods.

And, O king, in that radiant sabhā of Varuṇa, guardian of oceans and justice, there are gathered not only gods and serpents, Dānavas and deities, but also the holy rivers of Bhārata, come forth in their personified forms, adorned in waters and fragrance, to worship the lord of cosmic law.

There are the four great oceans, encircling the world like bejewelled belts of blue and foam. Alongside them stand the sacred rivers:

The Bhāgīrathī, who flowed from heaven at the bidding of a king’s penance;

The Kālindī, dark as twilight and swift in current;

The Vidiśā, the Venvā, and the mighty Narmadā, queen of strong streams;

The Vipāsā, Śatadru, and the moon-named Candrabhāgā;

The sacred Sarasvatī, once visible, now hidden in subtle form;

The Iravati and Vitastā, the Sindhu, and Devanadī, sanctified by gods;

The Godāvarī, the Kṛṣṇaveṇvā, and the noble Kāverī, empress of the South;

The Kimpunā, Viśalyā, and the dark, fearsome Vaitaraṇī;

The Tṛtīyā, the Jyeṣṭhilā, and the golden Soṇā;

The Charmāvatī, flowing with grace, and the river Parṇasā;

The sacred Sarayū, and Varavatyā, and the clear Laṅgalī;

The Karatoyā, Ātreyī, and the crimson-hued Mahānadā;

The gentle Laghantī, the auspicious Gomatī, and the blessed Sandhyā;

And the triple-streamed Triśrotasī, sacred among tirthas.

These rivers, born of mountain hearts,

Flow down to cleanse the world’s dark parts.

With sacred chants, in flowing grace,

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They serve Lord Varuṇa, face to face.

Along with these rivers, all sacred lakes, great and small—springs, wells, and tanks, some created by sages, others by gods—take on divine forms and walk like radiant maidens or majestic beings, waiting upon Varuṇa, praising him with hymns and service.

The points of the compass, too, appear in their subtle forms, radiant and invisible, while all mountains—Himālaya, Vindhya, Mandara, and others—attend the assembly, their spirits adorned with jeweled crowns and garlands of mist, conversing among themselves in tones like thunder softened by time.

And there, in that celestial music-hall, Apsarās and Gandharvas dance and sing. Their voices rise in melodies that stir even the still waters. They praise Varuṇa through song and instrument, their music filling the sabhā with fragrance and light.

With harp and lute, with conch and shell,

Their anthems rise, their praises swell.

The sabhā echoes with their art—

And law itself takes voice and heart.

Beside these celestial singers stand Varuṇa’s own ministers and hosts. Chief among them is Sunābha, his trusted counselor, radiant with wisdom and age. He is surrounded by sons and grandsons, each marked with noble conduct and sacred seals. Alongside him is the personified form of the sacred waters called “Go”, luminous with purity and calmness, attending the lord of waters like his very breath.

The tides obey, the stars align—

In Varuṇa’s sabhā, all is divine.

Rivers bow and winds grow still,

Before the one who bends all will.

Thus, O Bhārata, have I seen the divine sabhā of Varuṇa, a hall of law, beauty, and boundless serenity. It stands within the ocean, and yet its reach extends across all realms, touched by no fear, decay, or desire.

Now, O Yudhiṣṭhira, king of dharma, listen as I describe the assembly hall of Kubera, the lord of wealth, friend of Rudra, and protector of treasures.”

Nārada said:

“O Yudhiṣṭhira, the sabhā of Vaiśravaṇa, lord of wealth and treasures, resplendent as the dawn of heaven, is vast and radiant. Stretching a full hundred yojanas in length and seventy yojanas in breadth, it was not constructed by ordinary craft, but born of Kuvera’s own tapasya—shaped by the strength of austerity and divine will.

It shines with a brilliance that rivals the white peaks of Mount Kailāsa, his brother Rudra’s abode. Indeed, so luminous is this palace of the Yakṣa-lord that even the Moon, with his cool light, seems pale in comparison. Floating aloft, as if suspended in the sky, it rests upon the power of the Guhyakas, his faithful servants, like a cloud held aloft by the wind.

Gold-framed arches, jeweled halls,

Rise like mountains, vast and tall.

With colors of the gods it gleams,

Like lightning etched into moonlit dreams.

Celestial fragrances drift through the air—scents of divine jasmine groves, of lotuses blooming in the waters of Alakā, the river that flows through the northern gardens of paradise. Breezes that pass through the Mandāra forests, cool and perfumed, murmur ever so gently, fanning Kuvera’s delight.

Within this glittering palace sits Vaiśravaṇa, the noble Yakṣa king, the treasurer of the gods, seated on a radiant throne like the rising sun itself. His seat is adorned with divine fabrics, resting upon golden carpets, set with shining footstools. His person is magnificent—clothed in robes finer than starlight, decked in ear-rings of blazing brilliance, surrounded by a thousand consorts, each adorned with celestial garlands and divine ornaments.

There, unceasing and harmonious, music resounds from every direction. Gandharvas and Apsarās, masters of melody and motion, fill the hall with their divine art.

Among them are:

Miśrakēsī, and the radiant Rambhā;

The famed minstrel Citrarathā and lovely Suchismitā;

Cārunetrā, Gṛtācī, Menakā, and Puñjikasthalā;

Viśvācī, Sahajanyā, and graceful Pramlōcā;

Ūrvaśī, Irā, Vargā, Sauraveyī, Sāmicī, Vududā, and Latā.

And a thousand more celestial nymphs, versed in the intricate rhythms of dance, circle Kuvera in devotion and joy.

Their anklets chime like whispered rain,

Their songs release both joy and pain.

The sabhā blooms with sacred sound—

Where dance and dharma both abound.

The Gandharva races—Kinnaras, Naras, and their kindred—fill the palace with instrumental and vocal rapture. In their midst are Kuvera’s foremost attendants:

Manibhadra, Dhanada, and Śvetabhadra;

The valiant Guhyaka, Kāseraka, and Gandakandu;

The mighty Pradyota, and fierce Kuṣṭumburu;

Grotesque yet loyal Piśācas, such as Gajakarṇa, Viśālaka, and Varāha-karṇa;

Others like Tāmrauṣṭika, Phalakākṣa, and Phalodaka, unique in form;

The wild Haṁsacūḍa, the wise Śikhāvarta, and the steadfast Vibhīṣaṇa, brother to Rāvaṇa yet devoted to righteousness.

Also present are:

Puṣpānana, fragrant in form,

Piṅgalaka, Śoṇitoda, and Prāvalaka;

Vṛkṣavāspaniketa, guardian of forest abodes,

Cīravāsa, the ascetic-yakṣa clothed in bark.

These Yakṣas, guardians of hidden gold,

With forms both fierce and wonders bold,

In armor bright or matted hair,

Wait on Kuvera, standing there.

They wait upon him, not in fear, but in reverence, for Kuvera, though master of wealth, is also master of dāna, the sacred giving, and protector of beings who dwell between light and shadow.”

Nārada said:

"O son of Dharma, not only Yakṣas and celestial musicians throng this sabhā—the very goddess Lakṣmī, she who is the embodiment of fortune and purity, dwells there eternally, bathed in golden radiance and crowned with lotuses. By her side remains Nālakūbara, the noble son of Kuvera, radiant with youthful energy and austere wisdom.

I myself, O King, and many like me—wanderers of the three worlds, sages, seers, and singers—often arrive there, drawn not by curiosity alone, but by devotion to the lord of wealth, who honors both sacrifice and dharma.

There gather Rākṣasas with softened gaze,

And Gandharvas skilled in sacred praise;

Rṣis, both Brahma-born and bold,

In that sabhā of gems and gold.

There, in that holy palace, Śiva himself, lord of all beings, seated with his consort Pārvatī, visits often, upholding the bond of friendship and affection made long ago with Vaiśravaṇa. With matted locks and the third eye ablaze, wielding his trident and bow, he arrives surrounded by legions of spirits, fierce and myriad in form:

Some dwarfish, others tall as trees,

Some red of eye and hoarse of cry,

Some feed on fat, some dance and leer,

But all, O King, are without fear.

They carry swords, clubs, and fiery tongues, and move swifter than the wind. They are Śiva's gaṇas, and they stand guard, laugh, roar, and chant praises as their lord visits his cherished friend Kuvera, the Yakṣa-rāja.

Wherever Bhava casts his gaze,

The stars halt in silent praise;

Yet here he walks, in friendship’s grace,

And rests in Kuvera’s jeweled place.

And not only spirits and seers, but the celestial singers Ha-hā and Hu-hū, Tumvuru and Parvata, Śailūṣa, Citraratha, and the master minstrel Citrarathā himself attend upon the lord of treasures. Their music flows like a stream of ambrosia, mingling with the chime of anklets and sacred chants.

Among the Vidyādharas, Cakradhāman and his retinue wait reverently. Hundreds of Kinnaras arrive, half-beast, half-divine, with flutes and harps in hand. Bhagadatta, king of men, also stands there, shining with valor.

There too stand:

Druma, chief of the Kimpuruṣas,

Mahendra, mighty among Rākṣasas,

Gandhamādana, radiant with Yakṣas,

Countless Rākṣasas of noble conduct and celestial might.

Even Vibhīṣaṇa, the righteous brother of Rāvaṇa, is seen there, worshipping Kuvera with humility and kinship, for despite their differences, blood and dharma both bind them to the same source.

From mount to mount, the devas come,

With roots in fire and peaks like drum;

Meru first, and all the rest—

Himalaya’s sons in jewel-dress.

The sacred mountains—Himavat, Paripātra, Vindhya, Kailāsa, Mandara, Malaya, Durdura, Mahendra, Gandhamādana, Indrakīla, Śunāva, and both eastern and western hills—all appear in personified form, their limbs carved of crystal and earth, their heads crowned with snow, their hearts pulsing with tapas, offering homage to Vaiśravaṇa.

There too are the divine guardians of Śiva:

Nandīśvara, strong and silent;

The dread Mahākāla, keeper of time;

Hosts of sharp-toothed, arrow-eared gaṇas;

Kākṣa, Kūṭamukha, Danti, Vijaya;

And Śiva’s white bull, roaring like a thundercloud.

From spirits fierce to sages wise,

From Rākṣasas to storm-swept skies,

All turn toward the Yakṣa-lord,

Who guards the wealth of gods and sword.

Indeed, Piśācas, too—beings of the liminal world—offer praise in that sabhā, where light and shadow mingle, and even the terrible find peace.

Know this, O son of Kuntī: Kuvera, the son of Pulastya, once sat with Śiva himself at that very throne, having earned by austerities the right to dwell among the gods. Pleased, Śaṅkara, the god of gods, made eternal friendship with Kuvera. Since that day, the three-eyed one frequently rests in that house of treasures, walking its jewel-paved halls without pride or pretense, as one friend visits another.

Even the two supreme jewels—Śaṅkha (the conch) and Padma (the lotus)—take form and serve Kuvera. And not just they—all the sacred jewels of the earth, born in fire and mine, in sea and sacrifice, rise as personified forms and stand with folded hands before him.

Such is the splendor of that throne,

Where gems and gods alike are known;

Where wealth is dharma’s noble friend,

And Śiva comes with none to bend.

Thus have I, Nārada, seen with mine own divine eye the sabhā of Kuvera, radiant as the heart of heaven."

Nārada said:

“This delightful sabhā of Kuvera, O king, which I have just described to thee, is not fixed to any one place. It is attached to the firmament itself and, by the power of its master’s merit and will, moves at his command through the skies. Such indeed is the hall of the Lord of Wealth—resplendent, sacred, and sovereign.

Now, O Yudhiṣṭhira, hear of another sabhā, one greater still, the sabhā of Brahmā, the Grandsire of all beings. It is incomparable, imperishable, and boundless. Its very nature is woven from the fabric of cosmic truth (satya), and it is untouched by time, delusion, or decay.

Where silence sings and stars are still,

Where thought takes form by only will,

Where gods and sages seek their source—

There stands the sabhā of sacred force.

This sabhā, O son of Dharma, was not built by hand, nor shaped by the celestial architect Viśvakarmā. Rather, it emanated directly from Brahmā’s own tapas, a manifestation of his mind-born purity and his yogic insight. It has no fixed boundaries, no walls nor roof, yet it contains within it all dimensions.