novelraw Arc 6 - Markandeya-Samasya Parva Chapter 11 - Skanda’s Boon to the Mothers
Arc 6 - Markandeya-Samasya Parva Chapter 11 - Skanda’s Boon to the Mothers
Then the Mothers of the Worlds drew near and spoke:
“We were proclaimed protectors of creation,
yet we desire now to be thy mothers.
Dispossess the ancient Ladies—
Brāhmī, Māheśvarī, and the rest—
and grant us their place of worship.
Restore to us the children who were taken,
and let us live ever by thy side.”
But Skanda answered gravely:
“What has once been given cannot be reclaimed.
I may grant you new offspring,
but not the children of others.
As for devouring the young of those mothers—
this is painful to hear.
Better that you guard the children of men,
not consume them.
Yet live with me as you wish,
and receive from me an inexhaustible spirit.”
Still the Mothers persisted:
“O Lord, until human children come of age,
let us, assuming many shapes,
exercise our powers upon them.
Yet at thy word we shall protect as well as afflict.”
Skanda at last proclaimed:
“So long as mortal children
have not reached the sixteenth year,
you may assail them in various forms.
Yet when they pass beyond,
let your power turn to protection.
Dwell with me, fierce and honoured,
worshipped by men with offerings.”
Mārkaṇḍeya said:
Then from Skanda’s blazing body issued a terrible being, senseless with hunger, who fell upon the ground. At Skanda’s bidding he assumed a dreadful form, known to the Brahmanas as Skandapasmāra, afflicter of children.
The Mothers received various forms:
Vinata, called the dread Śakunī-graha, seizes infants.Pūtanā, hideous and fierce, causes abortion in women.Aditi, as Revati, afflicts children under the name Raivata.Diti, mother of the Daityas, is Muhkamaṇḍikā, eater of flesh.Other spirits, male and female, born of Skanda’s fire, haunt the lying-in room for ten days, delighting in meat and wine.Kadru, mother of serpents, slips unseen into wombs, causing women to bring forth Nāgas.The mother of the Gandharvas removes the foetus altogether, the mother of Apsaras arrests its growth.The daughter of the Red Sea, called Lohitāyanī, once nursed Skanda, and is worshipped upon the kadamba tree.Āryā, mother of all children, is venerated for their welfare, even as Rudra is for men.Thus eighteen evil spirits, fond of blood and wine, afflict infants until their sixteenth year, and then, turning their power, guard them. All these, O king, are known as the spirits of Skanda. They are appeased with offerings, ablutions, and sacrifice; when honoured, they grant men long life, valour, and prosperity.
Mārkaṇḍeya then continued:
“After sixteen years, other spirits seize men.
The celestial spirit drives mad those who behold gods in dream or waking.
The ancestral spirit deludes those who see the departed.
The Siddha spirit afflicts those cursed by perfected ones.
The Rākṣasa spirit deceives men with false odours and tastes.
The Gandharva spirit unsettles minds with music.
The Paiśāca spirit torments with madness.
The Yakṣa spirit strikes down reason when it enters unawares.
Men also fall by fear, vice, or hideous sights.
Three kinds of spirits afflict men—
frolicsome, gluttonous, and sensual—
until seventy years, when fever alone remains as tormentor.”
But, O Yudhiṣṭhira, know this well:
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“Those who master their senses,
who are clean, self-restrained, and devoted to Rudra,
are untouched by these spirits.
To such men, the Mothers turn protectors,
and Mahāsena shields them with his power.”
Mārkaṇḍeya continued:
When Skanda had bestowed powers upon the Mothers and spirits, there appeared before him the goddess Svāhā, radiant daughter of Dakṣa. With folded hands she spoke:
“O mighty child, thou art my own son.
Grant me now a joy long desired.
From my girlhood I have loved Hutāśana,
but he knows not the yearning of my heart.
Let me dwell forever with him,
his wife in truth, his honoured flame.”
Skanda, filled with compassion, replied:
“O blameless lady, from this day forward,
every oblation cast by virtuous men,
to gods or to ancestors, with sacred hymns,
shall bear thy name—Svāhā—joined with Agni.
Thus wilt thou forever live with him,
never apart from the Fire divine.”
So honoured, Svāhā rejoiced. She dwelt henceforth beside Agni, worshipped by all sacrificers, her name immortal in the mantras of offering.
Then Brahmā, Lord of Creatures, addressed Mahāsena:
“Go now, child of Fire, to behold thy sire Mahādeva, the Conqueror of Tripura. For Rudra, mingling his essence with Agni, and Umā with Svāhā, have together fashioned thee, invincible guardian of beings. Know also, O Skanda, that when Rudra’s seed was cast into Umā and borne upon the mountain, it fell in fivefold ways—upon the earth, into the rays of the sun, into the blood-red sea, and upon the hill itself—giving rise to fierce beings, followers who live upon flesh, Mujika and Minjika among them. These are thy attendants, to be remembered by men.”
Skanda, bowing, honoured his father Maheśvara with filial reverence.
Mārkaṇḍeya said:
Men desiring wealth or healing worship these five classes of Rudra’s spirits with offerings of sun-flowers. Those who long for children honour the twin Mujika and Minjika, for they guard infants. Others worship the female spirits born in trees, though flesh-eating, for the sake of progeny. Thus are the countless Piśācas divided and appeased.
Now hear, O king, the origin of Skanda’s bells and standards. Indra’s elephant Airāvata bore two bells called Vaijayantī. Śakra gave them to Guha; Viśākha took one, Skanda the other. The standards of both brothers shone red as blazing fire. Pleased with the toys and honours of the gods, Mahāsena shone on the Golden Mountain, encircled by hosts of deities and Piśācas.
The mountain itself glowed with splendour in his presence, like Mandara illumined by the sun. White peaks were adorned with forests of santānaka, karavīra, pārijāta, aśoka, and kadamba; herds of celestial deer grazed there, flocks of heavenly birds soared. Clouds rumbled like great drums, Gandharvas sang, Apsaras danced, and joy resounded through all beings. The world seemed transplanted to the White Mountain, gazing upon Skanda in endless wonder.
When the son of Fire was anointed commander of the celestials, the mighty Hara, Lord Śiva, set forth with Pārvatī from Kailāsa, in splendour like the sun at dawn. His chariot blazed like lightning, drawn by a thousand lions and steered by Time itself. Their roars shook the heavens as if the sky would be devoured.
Śiva, Lord of Beasts,
with Umā at his side,
shone like the blazing sun
veiled in thunderclouds,
adorned with Indra’s bow of rain.
Before him went Kubera, Lord of Treasures, riding the Puṣpaka car with Guhyakas. Behind came Indra on Airāvata, leading gods in shining armour.
On Śiva’s right marched the Yakṣa Amogha with his hosts, and the Jambhaka spirits decked in garlands. The Vasus and Rudras formed ranks of terrible power. Yama came too, with Death and legions of diseases; behind them was borne the sharp trident Vijaya, glittering with doom.
Then came Varuṇa, Lord of Waters, bearing his Pāśa noose, accompanied by sea-creatures. After him the Pattiśa of Rudra, guarded by clubs and maces, then the white umbrella of sovereignty, and the sacred kamaṇḍalu borne by sages Bṛgu and Aṅgiras.
At last, amid rivers, lakes, stars, Gandharvas, serpents, and Apsaras scattering flowers, rode Rudra in his white chariot, smiling yet fearsome, reassuring the gods by his might. Clouds bent low, offering homage; Agni fanned him with royal yak-tails, and Vāyu too served him with care.
Behind sang Indra and the Ṛṣis, hymning the bull-bannered god. With Umā glittering beside him, Rudra shone like eternal Time, worshipped in countless forms, armed with the bow Piṇāka, destroyer and refuge alike.
Mahādeva placed a gentle hand on the peacock-bannered son and said, “Command the seventh host.”
Skanda bowed. “I shall. What else?”
Rudra smiled: “Look to me in the fray; by devotion to me you shall prosper.”
He drew the boy into an embrace—and let him go.
At once the heavens blazed. Stars burned like sparks in a furnace, earth groaned, darkness poured over the quarters. Out of that bruise of sky came a black, many-tongued legion—cloud-thick, rock-heavy, weapons raining: arrows, clubs, parighas, prāsas, great stones, and man-slayers. The celestials reeled; elephants screamed; chariot-poles snapped; heads fell like fruit in a wildfire.
Indra rose in his car and steadied the ranks: “Hold! Arms up! Strike like gods!”
Rallied, the Thirty-three, the Maruts, Sādhyas, and Vasus surged. Their arrow-sleet stitched blood from Daitya flesh; shafts fell from bodies like serpents dropping from cliffs. The Asuras wavered—then howled, redoubled, and broke the gods again. Drums thundered, conches keened, war-cries split the air.
Through the smoke strode Mahīṣa, mountain-huge, a sun behind stormcloud, hefting a living hill. He hurled it. Ten thousand devas were crushed. Terror swept the sky. He seized Rudra’s chariot-pole; earth cried out; sages swooned. But Śiva did not lift a finger—remembering the doom reserved for Mahīṣa.
Then rose Mahāsena, anger bright as daybreak—gold cuirass, crimson garland, a chariot like the sun drawn by chestnut fire. The Daitya line dimmed at his sight. He loosed his blazing śakti. It sang; it struck; Mahīṣa’s head, hill-heavy, thudded to earth—so vast it blocked the northern gate (though now folk pass it lightly). Again and again the śakti flew and flew back, a falcon drinking death. Daityas fell like torn storm-banks; Skanda’s hosts feasted on the rout, drank the dark wine, and scoured the field as wind scours cloud, as fire scours forest, as sun scours night.
The gods crowned him with shouts. He bowed to Maheśvara, radiant as the midday orb. Indra clasped him: “Brahmā made Mahīṣa unassailable; you felled him. You have cut the thorn from our flesh, slain hundreds forged in his mold. This is your first victory; your fame will not set.” With Śiva’s leave, the gods withdrew to their abodes. Rudra said simply: “As you honor me, honor Skanda.” In one day the Fire-born had conquered the three worlds.
He is known across the three worlds by many epithets—each a facet of his flame:
Agneya (son of Agni), Skanda (the cast-off), Dīptakīrti (blazing fame), Mayūraketu (peacock-bannered), Dharmātman (virtue-souled), Bhūteśa (lord of beings), Mahīṣārdana (slayer of Mahīṣa).
Kāmajit/Kāmada (subduer/fulfiller of desire), Satyavāk (truth-speaker), Bhuvaneśvara (lord of the worlds), Śiśu (ever-youthful), Śuci (pure), Dīptavarṇa (bright-hued), Amogha (unbaffled), Anagha (sinless), Rudra (terrible), Priya (beloved).
Śaṣṭhi-priya (dear to Śaṣṭhī), Mātṛ-vatsala (tender to his mothers), Kanyā-bhartṛ (guardian of maidens), Svāheya (son of Svāhā), Viśākha (reared by Viśākha), Naigameya (Veda-born), Saravaṇodbhava (born among reeds), Devasenā-priya (beloved of Devasenā).
Whoso repeats his names with a steady heart gathers fame, prosperity, long life—and, in the end, Skanda’s own companionship.
Mārkaṇḍeya’s hymn
O six-faced Guha, lotus-eyed, thousand-armed,
year and season, month and tide, the quarters and their light;
leader of hosts, furious and gentle,
great oblation, breath of gods and Asuras alike.
You appear by will—of Gaṅgā, of Svāhā, of Earth, of Kṛttikās—
play with the cock, wear the peacock,
seed of truth, scythe of Diti’s brood,
vast and minute, you lace the worlds with energy.
We bow to twelve eyes that outshine dawn;
the rest of you exceeds our speech.