novelraw Arc 6 - Markandeya-Samasya Parva Chapter 10 - Skanda, The Commander of the Celestials
Arc 6 - Markandeya-Samasya Parva Chapter 10 - Skanda, The Commander of the Celestials
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
O king of the Kurus, hear now the wondrous tale of how the fire-god’s love, Svāhā’s devotion, and the seed of sacrifice brought forth Skanda, the mighty commander of the gods.
The fire-god Agni, scorched not by flame but by desire, had been ensnared by longing for the wives of the seven Ṛṣis. Svāhā, daughter of Dakṣa, who long had loved him in secret, beheld his weakness. With cleverness and devotion she resolved to fulfil her heart’s yearning.
She first assumed the form of Śivā, the virtuous wife of Aṅgiras. Approaching Agni, she said:
“O blazing one, I am consumed by love for thee.
Grant me thy embrace, else I shall cast away my life.
My sisters, the wives of the other Ṛṣis,
have sent me here with one accord,
for they too have seen the flame that devours thy heart.”
Agni, astonished, replied:
“How know you of my torment, O Śivā?
And how could the other chaste ones discern it?
Never have I spoken of this fire within me.”
Svāhā, still in her guise, answered sweetly:
“We, thy adorers, read the signs of thy longing.
They bid me come, but I must return quickly.
Take me now, O Agni, before they ask.”
So deceived, Agni yielded. In joy he embraced her, believing her to be Śivā. Svāhā, however, careful to protect the honour of the Ṛṣis’ wives, bore his seed in her own hands. Knowing that if seen in that form she would cast suspicion on the innocent, she transformed herself into a bird, flew to the White Mountain ringed by serpents and demons, and cast the seed into a golden lake.
Thus, time after time, she came to Agni, assuming the forms of the wives of the great seers—save that of Arundhatī, the faithful wife of Vasiṣṭha, whose chastity and power no guise could imitate. Six times, on six nights, she bore away the seed and cast it into the sacred lake.
From that lake, O king, arose a child of fire, resplendent as the dawn. Because the Ṛṣis, misled, thought the seed had been cast off, the child came to be called Skanda, “the Cast Off.”
Born with six radiant faces, twelve eyes, twelve ears, twelve arms and twelve feet, he was a marvel to behold.
On the second day he appeared from the waters.
On the third, he had the form of a child.
On the fourth, his limbs grew strong, gleaming like molten gold.
He shone like the red sun rising in a storm of crimson clouds.
He roared like thunder,
the three worlds trembled at his cry.
Nāgas shivered, mountains quaked,
even mighty Airāvata stirred with dread.
In his many hands he bore weapons and omens:
A massive bow once wielded by Rudra against Tripura.
A sharp dart glowing like lightning.
A red-crested cock clutched fast, his war-banner.
A conch which he blew, filling the heavens with terror.
A mace, with which he shattered peaks of the White Mountain.
When he struck, the mighty mountain Krauñca split asunder with a scream, and its birds fled in terror to distant Meru. Other mountains trembled and even tried to flee the earth, until Skanda, unmoved, compelled them back with his command.
Like the rising sun he blazed forth,
like Rudra’s storm he struck,
like Brahma’s will he created fear,
and like Indra’s thunder he roared across the worlds.
On the fifth day of the lunar month, all beings, freed from fear by his roar and power, gathered and worshipped him as Mahāsena, the great general of the celestial host.
Thus was Skanda, son of Agni, born of Svāhā’s devotion and the seed of sacrifice, destined to lead the armies of the gods against the Asuras.
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
When the mighty Skanda, son of fire and sacrifice, was born, the universe itself trembled with signs and portents.
The nature of things was reversed:
Males moved as females, and females bore the strength of men.
Heat was chilled, and cold grew burning.
The cardinal points flamed with unearthly light.
The firmament blazed with brilliance, and the earth rumbled as if in agony.
The Ṛṣis, beholding these fearful omens, strove with austerities and hymns to restore tranquillity to the worlds. Yet whispers spread across the Chitraratha forest:
“This calamity has sprung from Agni,
who in secret has joined himself
with the six wives of the seven seers.”
Others, recalling how Svāhā had assumed the guise of a bird, said instead:
“This is the mischief of a winged creature.”
But none suspected the truth. Svāhā alone knew that the child was hers, born of her devotion. She came before the radiant youth and revealed:
“O son of fire, I am thy mother,
not the wives of the seers.”
The seven Ṛṣis, misled by rumour, abandoned their six wives, sparing only Arundhatī, the chaste and faithful spouse of Vasiṣṭha. Though Svāhā protested again and again, declaring their innocence, suspicion clung like shadow.
But Viśvāmitra, wise and farsighted, had seen all. He had followed Agni unseen, witnessed his torment, and discerned Svāhā’s disguise. Knowing the truth, he sought out Skanda first among all, offering hymns and protection.
It was Viśvāmitra who performed for the child the thirteen auspicious rites of infancy—birth-rites, name-giving, and consecrations—and who first proclaimed to the world the virtues of the six-faced youth, the worship of the cock-banner, of Śakti his power, and of the first warriors who gathered at his side. For this reason, O king, Skanda favoured him with special grace.
Even after Viśvāmitra’s words cleared the wives of the Ṛṣis, the sages, stubborn with doubt, cast them away. Thus the innocent bore the burden of suspicion, while Svāhā alone claimed her son.
Meanwhile, the gods, hearing of Skanda’s terrible strength, grew fearful. They said to Indra:
“O wielder of the thunderbolt,
destroy this child before he destroys us.
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If he grows unchecked,
he will seize the three worlds
and claim thy throne as king of the celestials.”
But Śakra, pondering Skanda’s radiance, replied with awe:
“This boy is no mortal child.
His might could consume even Brahmā,
the Creator himself.
How shall I lift my hand against him?”
The gods mocked him:
“Thou hast no manliness, O Śakra,
to tremble thus before a babe!
Let the Mothers of the Universe go—
they who can master any force at will.
Let them slay him.”
The Mothers departed, but when they beheld the six-faced child blazing with power, their hearts softened. Instead of slaying him, they stretched out their arms and said:
“O child of splendour,
be thou our son also.
We yearn to give thee suck,
for milk flows unbidden from our breasts.
Take us for thy Mothers.”
Moved with reverence, Mahāsena accepted them. He drank of their milk, and they became his Mothers in truth—each nourishing his strength, each guarding him with fierce love.
Soon his father, Agni, appeared, honoured by his son. The Mothers stayed beside the boy, nursing and protecting him, while Agni devised a strange form to delight him.
Transforming himself into a trader
with the mouth of a goat,
followed by many children,
he brought toys to the mountain cave,
soothing the child with play.
One Mother, born of Wrath, stood guard with spike in hand. Another, red as blood, daughter of the Sea, clasped Skanda to her breast and fed him like her own child. Thus nourished by the Mothers and cherished by Fire, the six-faced warrior grew, destined to lead the gods in battle.
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
The heavens gathered for war. Planets with their retinues, blazing fires, fierce Mothers, and the Ṛṣis of high austerity all assembled about Mahāsena, son of Agni. His brilliance shone like a second sun on the mountaintop.
But Śakra, sovereign of the celestials, mounted the great elephant Airāvata and advanced with his host. Doubt gnawed at his heart, for he knew Skanda’s power was immeasurable, yet pride and duty urged him on.
The gods, clad in resplendent armour,
their standards glimmering with heavenly light,
raised the cry of battle, shrill and terrible,
and marched like storm-clouds upon Guha.
When Skanda beheld Indra advancing in all his finery, thunderbolt in hand, he too moved forward, fire flashing in his six faces.
Śakra roared aloud—
a shout that shook the quarters,
echoing with the voices of gods and Ṛṣis.
But Skanda’s answering cry was mightier still,
like the ocean rising against the sky,
a roar that froze the armies of heaven
as if the stars themselves had fallen.
Wrathful, the son of Agni opened his mouths,
and from them leapt flames like rivers of fire.
The hosts of the celestials were seized and consumed,
their chariots, their banners, their steeds,
their bright forms turned suddenly to cinders,
as meteors cast from their rightful spheres.
Seeing their forces destroyed, the gods faltered, and allegiance to Indra’s thunderbolt was abandoned. Trembling, they sought the very protection of the son of Fire whom they had come to slay.
But Śakra, unwilling to yield, lifted his vajra, the bolt of a hundred sacrifices, and hurled it against Skanda. It struck him on the right side and pierced through his divine frame.
And lo! From that wound there burst forth a youth, radiant and terrible, bearing a club in his hand, adorned with a celestial charm.
Because he was born of the thunderbolt’s piercing,
the gods named him Viśākha—
fierce as Fire himself,
the twin-born aspect of Skanda.
Indra, beholding this new-born warrior blazing like the end of time, quailed with fear. He folded his hands and bowed before Skanda, seeking refuge.
The six-faced one, compassionate even in wrath, raised his arm and said:
“Be thou without fear, O Śakra.”
Then joy returned to the hosts of heaven, and their voices rang out in praise, striking their hands in exultation.
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
O son of Kuru, listen now to the tale of Skanda’s fierce and wondrous companions, born when the thunderbolt struck him. From his wound there sprang countless children of dread appearance—some male, some female—terrible beings who could spirit away infants, whether still in the womb or newly born.
These strange progeny gathered around Viśākha, son of the thunderbolt, and called him father. Among them was the goat-faced warrior Bhadraśākha, dexterous and formidable, surrounded by his own sons and daughters, whom he guarded fiercely under the watch of the great Mothers.
Thus, it is, O King, that mortals upon earth, beholding this mystery, call Skanda the Father of Kumāras, protector and lord of children. And men who long for sons worship Rudra in the form of Agni, and Umā in the form of Svāhā, for by their grace children are born.
The daughters of the Fire-god Tapa came also before Skanda and bowed, saying:
“O mighty one, do us this favour:
by thy blessing may we be honoured mothers,
respected by the world,
forever cherished by men.”
And the six-faced one, generous in spirit, answered:
“So be it.
Ye shall be divided as Śivā and Aśivā,
benign and terrible alike,
mothers to all creation.”
Thus blessed, the Mothers established Skanda’s divine sonship and went their way.
Kākī, Hālimā, Mālinī, Vṛṃhilā, Āryā, Palālā, and Vaimitrā—these seven became the Mothers of Śiśu, a red-eyed, turbulent child, terrible in might, born by the grace of Skanda. He was renowned as the eighth hero born of the Mothers, yet sometimes counted as the ninth when Bhadraśākha, the goat-faced, is reckoned among them.
Know this, O King:
the sixth face of Skanda shone like that of a goat,
set at the centre of his six heads,
the face most beloved of the Mothers.
From that head, Bhadraśākha drew forth divine energy,
the most radiant of all his visages.
All these marvels occurred upon the fifth day of the bright half of the month, and on the sixth, the heavens shook with a fierce and terrible battle, the clash of gods and demons at that sacred place.
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
Then, O scion of Bharata, the mighty Skanda was adorned with splendour. A golden amulet gleamed upon his chest, a radiant crown rested upon his six heads, and a wreath of gold graced his neck. His eyes were golden, his teeth sharp as lightning, his garments dyed crimson like the evening sky. Shining with youthful vigour, adorned with bright earrings, he appeared handsome beyond compare—beloved of the three worlds, dispenser of boons, warrior unvanquished.
As he reposed in majesty, the goddess of Fortune herself, lotus-eyed and radiant, assumed a visible form and bowed before him. When Śrī thus entered into his being, Skanda’s beauty was like the moon at its full, gladdening the eyes of gods and men alike.
The great Ṛṣis then came near, their hearts filled with wonder, and said:
“O thou born of the golden seed,
mayst thou prosper and guard the universe!
Though but six days old,
the worlds already bow before thee;
thou hast dispelled their fear,
therefore be thou Indra,
sovereign of the three worlds!”
But Skanda, modest and steadfast, enquired:
“Tell me then, O holy ones,
what are the duties of Indra?
What task is his in guarding gods and creatures?”
And the Ṛṣis replied:
“Indra is strength and power,
he grants children and joy to creatures.
He destroys the wicked,
and fulfils the wishes of the righteous.
He assigns to beings their duties,
stands in place of sun, moon, fire, air, and water
whenever they falter.
Thus wide is his charge,
thus vast his might.
And thou too art mighty, O son of Fire—
be then our Indra!”
Then Sakra himself drew near and said:
“O great hero, become our lord.
Worthy art thou of sovereignty,
this very day we shall anoint thee king.”
But Skanda replied gently:
“Do thou continue, O Śakra,
to rule the three worlds with self-possession.
I shall remain thy servant;
I covet not thy sovereignty.”
Yet Indra, humbled, answered:
“Thy power is unmatched.
I, bereft of strength, defeated by thee,
could not rule without strife arising between us.
Creatures would divide into factions,
and war would again consume the worlds.
Better, therefore, that thou take command
of the hosts of heaven.”
Then Skanda declared:
“So be it.
Anoint me commander of the celestials,
for the destruction of the Dānavas,
for the welfare of gods,
for the protection of cows and Brahmanas.”
Thus chosen, he was consecrated Senāpati by Indra and all the gods. The golden umbrella was raised above his head like a fiery halo; Rudra himself adorned him with the wreath of Viśvakarman’s making. Śiva and Pārvatī, arriving with joy, honoured him as their own son. Because Rudra’s seed had mingled with Fire, because the Kṛttikās and Svāhā had nurtured him, all the gods proclaimed him the son of Rudra.
He shone clad in red garments, resplendent like the rising sun. Upon his banner perched the red cock—gift of Agni—emblem of blazing destruction. Before him strode the spirit of Victory, directing the efforts of all beings.
Beauty, strength, truth, rectitude, protection of followers, destruction of foes, devotion to Brahmanas—these, O Yudhiṣṭhira, were his inborn virtues. Surrounded by the chanting of Vedic hymns, the music of Gandharvas, and the dancing of Apsaras, he glowed like the full moon in the heavens. The celestial hosts acclaimed him their leader, and he accepted their allegiance with grace.
Then the thousand-eyed Indra remembered Devasenā, whom he had once rescued. Knowing from Brahmā’s decree that she was destined to be Skanda’s bride, he summoned her, adorned in celestial attire, and said:
“O foremost of gods,
this lotus-eyed maiden was destined for thee
even before thy birth.
Take her hand in sacred union,
with mantras of marriage.”
Thus, before gods and Ṛṣis, Skanda took Devasenā’s hand. Bṛhaspati himself intoned the hymns and offered the oblations. The bride, known among men as Śaṣṭhī, Lakṣmī, Āśā, Sinīvālī, Kuhū, Aparājitā, and by many other names, became Skanda’s eternal consort.
When the union was complete, the powers of prosperity attended upon him in their embodied forms, serving the commander of heaven. From that day, O king, the fifth lunar day was revered as Śrīpañcamī, for then Skanda attained his splendour; and the sixth, Ṣaṣṭhī, was honoured as the day of his fulfilment, when he received command of the gods and the hand of Devasenā.
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
When the six wives of the Ṛṣis, who had been cast off in anger, learned that fortune had crowned Mahāsena and that he had been made the general of the celestials, they hastened to his camp. Disowned by their ascetic husbands, yet adorned with virtue and penance, they fell at Skanda’s feet and said:
“O son, though blameless,
we have been banished in wrath.
Some whispered we bore thee,
and our lords, believing, cast us away.
Now save us from infamy,
accept us as mothers,
and grant us peace eternal.”
Skanda, radiant as fire, replied with compassion:
“O ladies of stainless conduct,
be indeed my mothers.
I am your son;
through me may your desires be fulfilled.”
Thus he honoured them, and they rejoiced.
Soon thereafter, Śakra himself approached and spoke:
“Abhijit, the younger sister of Rohiṇī, jealous of her seniority, has fled to the forest for austerities. Thus her place among the stars lies empty. Do thou, with Brahmā’s counsel, appoint another to that heavenly seat.”
And by divine will, Kṛttikā was raised to the sky, presided over by Agni, and now shines radiant with her seven flames.
At that time Vinatā, mother of Garuḍa, came to Skanda and said:
“Thou art as a son to me. Let me live with thee always, honoured by thy household, and in due time may I receive thy offerings.”
And Skanda replied:
“So be it.
Abide with me, O revered one,
guide me with a mother’s affection,
and be ever honoured in my dwelling.”