novelraw Arc 1 - Saṃjaya-yāna Parava Chapter 3 - Rise of Nahusha
Arc 1 - Saṃjaya-yāna Parava Chapter 3 - Rise of Nahusha
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Śalya had thus described the fall of Indra, Yudhiṣṭhira, eager for the end of the tale, said, “Tell me, O king, who then ruled the heavens when Śakra lay hidden beneath the waters?”
And Śalya, rich in ancient lore, continued the story of the rise and fall of Nahusha, the mortal who became a god.
When the throne of heaven lay empty,
And the thunder-wielder hid in shame,
The Ṛṣis and gods assembled crying,
“Let a righteous king again bear the name!”
They gathered upon Meru, the golden mountain, and said among themselves:
“Who among beings is worthy to bear the sceptre of the sky? Indra’s might is darkened by sin; the worlds are trembling without a lord. Let the noble Nahusha, son of Āyu and descendant of Pururavas, be crowned king of the gods—for he is valiant, truthful, learned, and pure.”
Thus, with Brahmā’s blessing and the consent of the Ṛṣis, they went before Nahusha, radiant upon earth, and said:
“O lord of men, rule thou the immortals; thou art famed for righteousness and self-control.”
But Nahusha, modest in spirit, bowed low and said:
“Weak am I, O gods; how shall I protect you?
Indra alone was strong enough to bear the thunder.
Let him return to his throne, for I am but mortal.”
Then the deities and seers replied:
“By the power of our penances, strength shall enter thee.
Whatever being thou shalt behold—god, Asura, Yakṣa, Gandharva, or Pitṛ—thou shalt absorb his might and become invincible. Rule, therefore, O son of Pururavas, and protect dharma and the Brahmarṣis. Virtue shall be thy crown.”
So Nahusha was anointed king of the gods. Bathed in the waters of heaven’s rivers, crowned with celestial jewels, he ascended Indra’s throne, and all the immortals acclaimed him. At first he ruled in righteousness, placing dharma above desire, and the worlds rejoiced under his just sceptre.
But power is a subtle wine;
It clouds the mind and blinds the soul.
From virtue’s peak to passion’s vale
The fall is sure when pride takes hold.
As time passed and his glory grew, sensuality awoke in his heart. He summoned bands of Apsarases, Gandharvas, and divine musicians to attend him. The six seasons themselves—Spring to Winter—came in embodied grace to serve the new lord of heaven.
Upon Mandara, Kailāsa, and Himavat’s crest, in the groves of Nandana, Nahusha sported amid song and fragrance, wandering over seas and rivers with hosts of nymphs. Viśvāvasu sang for him; Nārada played his vīṇā; celestial maidens danced like moonbeams on the wind. Soft, perfumed breezes followed him wherever he went.
Then one day, intoxicated with power, Nahusha beheld the fair Śacī, queen of Indra—the pure-hearted consort of the thunder-god. His eyes darkened with desire.
“Why doth not Śacī, queen of the celestials, attend on me?” he said to his courtiers.
“Am I not now the monarch of the gods, the lord of the three worlds?
Let her be brought to me—let her come at once to my palace.”
Hearing these words, the goddess trembled. She fled straightway to Bṛhaspati, priest of the gods and son of Aṅgiras, and cried in distress:
“O holy sage, protect me! Nahusha covets me.
Thou hast said that I bear the marks of auspiciousness,
That I am devoted to my lord and destined never to be widowed.
Let thy words be proven true.
Save me, O Brahmana, from this sin-born king.”
The wise preceptor comforted her gently, saying:
“Fear not, O Śacī. What I have spoken shall come to pass.
Thou shalt see Indra again, freed from sin and shining with virtue.
Nahusha shall not defile thee, for his fall is near.
Destiny itself shall restore thee to thy rightful lord.”
When Nahusha learned that Śacī had sought refuge with the sage, anger consumed him. His pride flamed brighter than lightning. He thought within himself,
“If the queen of heaven hides behind a Brahmana, I shall drag even the preceptor’s house to my will. None can oppose Nahusha, ruler of gods!”
Thus, blinded by arrogance, he turned his strength from dharma to adharma; and what followed was the ruin of heaven itself.
Vaiśampāyana concluded:
So did Nahusha, born of virtue, fall through lust and pride. Power without restraint turns even holiness to ruin; and he who was lifted by the gods became the scourge of gods themselves.
The fire that warms may also burn,
The crown that gleams may crush the head;
For when desire usurps the throne,
The fall of kings is swift and dread.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Śalya spoke thus, the son of Dharma listened intently, for the tale revealed how even divine power, ungoverned by restraint, leads to ruin. Then Śalya, continuing his narration, described the madness of Nahusha, lord of the gods, whose mind was clouded by desire for Śacī, the queen of Indra.
The Gods Plead for Restraint
When lust inflamed the heavenly throne,
The worlds beneath began to shake;
The saints and gods, with palms outstretched,
Entreaty to their monarch spake:
“Calm thy wrath, O lord of heaven,
Let peace again the skies restore;
Another’s wife thou seekest now—
A sin that stains for evermore.”
But Nahusha, intoxicated by the nectar of sovereignty, heeded not their words. His reason, veiled by arrogance, turned against the very gods who crowned him.
He said in fury:
“Was not Ahalyā, the spotless wife of Gautama, defiled by Indra himself? Did you protest then? Did the heavens tremble as you now pretend? Why, then, should this Śacī not attend upon me, the new monarch of heaven? I am the ruler of the three worlds—my desire is law!”
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The hosts of gods, struck with fear, said meekly,
“O mighty one, we shall speak with her and entreat her to obey your command. Be pacified, O king of gods.”
To Bṛhaspati’s hermitage she fled,
The trembling queen of thousand eyes;
And clasping the sage’s sacred feet,
Poured out her grief with tearful cries:
“O holy one, O knower of truth,
I am beset by peril dire;
Protect me, Brahmana, pure of vow,
From Nahusha’s unholy fire.
Thou hast declared me chaste and blessed,
Indra’s own and none beside—
Let thy words be proven true,
Lest virtue perish in heaven’s pride.”
The wise preceptor, son of Aṅgiras, whose vow was truth, replied:
“Fear not, O goddess. My word cannot fail.
Thou shalt see thy lord again;
Nahusha’s pride shall soon be his fall,
And Indra shall regain his reign.
I will not yield thee, O Śacī.
The refuge of the fearful must not be betrayed.
To surrender the helpless is to court ruin—
For he who does so finds no refuge when he himself is in need.”
Then Bṛhaspati, turning to the assembled gods, said gravely:
“Listen, ye immortals, to the decree once sung by Brahmā himself:
‘He who gives up one that has sought his shelter
Shall find no shelter when danger comes.
The rain shall shun his field,
His sacrifice shall yield no fruit.
His forefathers shall quarrel, his children perish untimely;
The gods shall spurn his offerings,
And his strength shall fail in battle.
For such a man falls, paralysed, from heaven.’
Therefore, O devas, I shall not abandon Śacī, the pure and faithful consort of Indra. If you desire peace, seek a way that harms not virtue.”
The gods, troubled yet reverent, said, “O Guru of the celestials, find us a course that preserves both righteousness and safety.”
Bṛhaspati pondered and replied:
“Let the goddess demand time from Nahusha—to consider his proposal. Time breeds obstacles, and fate often turns pride to folly. By delay alone shall heaven be delivered.”
The gods rejoiced, saying, “Well spoken, O Brāhmaṇa! By time’s own wheel shall destiny unfold.”
Then they went to Śacī and spoke gently:
“O lady of auspicious marks, thou who upholdest the order of heaven, go to Nahusha as we advise. His own sin shall be his snare. He will soon fall, and Indra shall return. Thou art spotless; no harm shall come to thee.”
Hearing this, the goddess, wise and steadfast, bowed her head and resolved to act according to their counsel. Thus, attended by the gods, she went to Nahusha, her modesty like a veil of flame, her face pale yet resolute.
Lust’s fire flared in Nahusha’s eyes
As Śacī entered, radiant and pure;
The heavens darkened at his gaze—
For virtue’s trial none could endure.
Mad with desire, he welcomed her, forgetting dharma, forgetting shame. Thus, blinded by passion, Nahusha strode toward his ruin—while in the hidden depths of the waters, Indra’s sin grew lighter, awaiting the hour of return.
Vaiśampāyana concluded:
Thus did Nahusha, enthroned among gods, fall from virtue’s height into the pit of pride. For even the mightiest who forsake restraint are consumed by their own desires.
The thunder fades when dharma dies,
The crown turns ash when lust defies;
And they who scorn the law divine
Are lost, though seated among the skies.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then Śalya, lord of Madra, continued his tale of celestial upheaval to the listening Yudhiṣṭhira, recounting how Queen Śacī, pure and steadfast, escaped the snare of Nahusha and how Indra, cleansed of sin, prepared for his return to heaven.
Before the lustful king of gods
The fair one stood, with downcast eyes;
Her voice was soft, her form was still—
A trembling stalk in stormy skies.
Nahusha, seated upon Indra’s throne, beheld her beauty and said in rapture:
“O sweet-smiling one! I am Indra—the ruler of heaven and of the three worlds. Accept me as thy lord, O goddess of slender waist and fair complexion!”
Terrified, the chaste Śacī bowed her head to Brahmā inwardly and spoke in gentle humility:
“O lord of the gods, I seek only truth. I know not what fate has befallen Indra—whether he lives or lies slain. Grant me time to learn the truth of him. If I find him not, then I shall come to thee as thou hast commanded. This I promise in truth.”
Her words were calm as flowing streams,
Yet edged with wisdom’s hidden fire;
And Nahusha, caught in lustful dream,
Mistook delay for fond desire.
Pleased with her speech, he said: “So be it, O lady of lovely hips. Return when thou hast learnt the fate of thy husband. I trust in thy promise.”
Thus dismissed, Śacī, radiant and unsullied, returned swiftly to the hermitage of Bṛhaspati, refuge of the righteous.
There the devas, led by Agni, assembled once again. Hearing Śacī’s words and seeing the peril of heaven, they sought Viṣṇu—the eternal refuge. Standing before Him, their voices joined in anxious appeal:
“O Lord of all that moves and rests,
Whose steps encompass earth and sky,
The thunderer lies bound by sin—
Redeem him, lest the heavens die.
Thou art the first-born, the Preserver,
Who churned the sea and tamed the foe.
Thou boundest Bali, raised Indra’s throne—
In Thee alone all beings grow.”
Viṣṇu, compassionate and serene, replied:
“O immortals, hear My decree. Let Indra, lord of rain, perform the Aśvamedha, the horse-sacrifice, in My name. By that rite, I Myself shall cleanse him of the sin of Brahmanicide.
As for Nahusha—the lustful, blinded by pride—his deeds shall bring his fall. For a little while endure, O gods, and watch; Time itself will be your deliverer.”
Then, guided by the preceptor Bṛhaspati, the gods went to the place where Indra lay hidden, trembling in the waters, his radiance veiled by guilt. There they performed a great sacrifice to Viṣṇu—vast as the sky, sanctified by hymns and clarified butter.
The smoke rose high, the mantras flowed,
The holy fire consumed the stain;
And sin, once heavy on Indra’s soul,
Fell like a serpent’s cast-off chain.
By Viṣṇu’s grace, the sin was divided:
One part entered trees, which thereafter shed their bark and sap when wounded;One part entered rivers, which from then bore foam upon their waves;One part entered mountains, which became cleft and scarred by storms;One part entered earth, which grew uneven and bore deserts;And one part entered women, who from that time endure the cycle of impurity.Thus freed of his burden, Indra regained his clarity and peace. The thunderer, purified, shone again with divine splendour. But when he looked upon Nahusha, swollen with arrogance and surrounded by flame-like power, Indra trembled for a moment and vanished once more, waiting for destiny’s hour.
Bereft of her lord’s sight, Śacī fell into deep sorrow.
Alone in her chamber, she lifted her eyes to the sky and spoke with folded hands:
“If ever I have given in faith,
Or worshipped gods with pure intent,
If truth abides within my soul,
Then may my chastity remain unbent.
I bow to thee, O holy Night—
Thou who movest with the moon’s calm pace.
Reveal to me my husband’s dwelling,
Show me where hides the lord of grace.”
Having bathed and purified her body, the queen of Indra worshipped the goddess Rātri (Night), invoking her under the northern course of the sun. Then, in the stillness of her devotion, she called upon the goddess of Divination, saying:
“By truth I seek the truth;
Reveal to me where the king of gods abides.
Let the power of chastity unveil his place,
And let my faith restore the heavens.”
Vaiśampāyana concluded:
Thus did Śacī, firm in purity and truth, become the instrument of heaven’s salvation. Her prayer would soon reveal Indra’s hiding place, and her chastity would bring about the downfall of Nahusha, whose pride had devoured his wisdom.
The fire of lust consumes the wise,
The flame of truth consumes the fire;
Through Śacī’s vow the heavens rise,
And pride is quenched in its desire.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Śacī, pure and trembling, invoked the powers of night and truth, behold—the very goddess of Divination stood before her, radiant and swift. The seer announced herself, and the queen of heaven cried, wondering at that gracious apparition. Thus began the secret journey that would find the hidden lord.
“I am Divination,” spoke the maiden bright,
“By truth I come, O lady of the light.
Since chastity and faith dwell in thy frame,
Quickly follow me; so may good betide thy name.”
Vaiśampāyana explained: Here the text sets the rule: purity of heart calls forth the powers of sight. Divination appears because Śacī’s vow and truth make her worthy—thus the gods answer when virtue prays.
In haste the goddess led her, and the two passed through groves of heaven, climbed the snow-locked crests of Himavanta, and traversed the long ridges that lean to the north. They crossed seas and forests until at last they came upon a great isle—an emerald world ringed with trees and pierced by a shining lake.
There, upon waters smooth as polished brass, a bed of lotuses spread—blooms of five colours thrumming with bees and perfumed as if the seasons themselves were singing. In the midst of that floating host rose one vast white lotus upon a stalk like a mast; within its fibres, shrunk to the smallest measure, lay Indra, hidden from gods and men.
Small in form, yet kingly still,
He lay within the lotus’ will;
Sachi shrank to a pearl-like size,
And praised his deeds with loving cries.
Vaiśampāyana explained: Shrinking to match her lord’s diminutive guise, Śacī praised his ancient exploits—the slaying of Vṛtra, the rescue of heaven, the hundred sacrifices—and called to him as to a husband returned from far exile. Her praise was both balm and summons.
Indra, startled, opened his tiny eyes and asked gently, “Why hast thou come? How found’st thou me?” Śacī told him of Nahusha’s outrage and the demand laid upon her, of the promise to delay, and of the peril that now pressed upon heaven. She spoke plainly of the king who, having been raised by the saints, had been drunk with rule and fallen into lust and violence.
“O wielder of the thunder, arise,” she said,
“Nahusha’s pride eats virtue’s stead.
Assume thy form, put sin away;
Rule heaven once more by righteous sway.”
Vaiśampāyana explained: In these lines Śacī bids Indra reclaim his place not for pride but to protect order. Her words call him from concealment to duty—the voice of chastity summoning the king of rains to shed his guilt and stand once more as protector.
Moved by her voice and the counsel of the gods, Indra’s heart stirred within that lotus-stalk. The hour of return was near—yet it would require the rites and the cunning of the divine to cleanse the stain he bore and to unmake Nahusha’s transient pride. Thus the queen’s faith and Divination’s guidance had together discovered the hiding-place of the thunderer and readied heaven’s course for his restoration.
Vaiśampāyana concluded:
So it was that truth, invoked in sorrow, brought sight and succour. Śacī’s steadfast chastity and Divination’s luminous presence pierced the veil where Indra hid; and the gods, observing all, girded themselves to restore the order that pride had sundered.
Where virtue prays, the hidden light shall come;
Where truth stands fast, the wandering king returns.