novelraw Arc 4 - Kṛṣṇa-yāna Parva Chapter 10 - The Story of Galava’s Vow
Arc 4 - Kṛṣṇa-yāna Parva Chapter 10 - The Story of Galava’s Vow
Then King Janamejaya, filled with wonder and distress at the fate of his forefathers, said unto Vaiśampāyana,
“Blinded by greed, hardened by pride,
and chained to the wheel of his own ruin,
why did not wise men restrain that prince—
he who courted death and misery?
Did not the grandsire Bhīṣma,
the holy Nārada,
or the tranquil Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana
speak to him words of wisdom?
Why did affection not prevail over doom?”
And Vaiśampāyana replied gently:
“Yes, O King, they did speak—
the holy one, Kṛṣṇa of noble soul,
the grandsire Bhīṣma, the sage Nārada—
all spoke for peace,
yet words of wisdom are wasted
on ears deafened by destiny.”
Then he recited the words once uttered by Nārada, the divine sage of all worlds:
“Rare, O King, are those who listen to a friend’s counsel;
rarer still are those who offer true counsel in time.
Often the friend who speaks is absent when needed,
and the one who listens is gone when truth is spoken.
Therefore, abandon obstinacy—
it is the gate to destruction.
In this regard,” said Nārada,
“is told the ancient tale
of Galava, the disciple of Viśvāmitra,
who met with sorrow through stubborn pride.”
Once, in the distant age of tapas and wonder, when Viśvāmitra was absorbed in fierce austerities, the god Dharma—the eternal law—resolved to test him. Assuming the form of the sage Vasiṣṭha, Dharma appeared before him, feigning hunger.
Then Viśvāmitra, out of reverence, hastened to prepare cāru, the sacred rice and milk offering. But as he laboured with great care, mindful of purity and ritual, he delayed in serving his guest. Meanwhile, the false Vasiṣṭha dined with the other ascetics. When Viśvāmitra arrived at last, bearing the steaming cāru in his hands, the divine visitor said,
“I have eaten already. Wait here.”
And saying so, the Lord of Dharma vanished.
Yet Viśvāmitra, steadfast as a mountain, waited there—holding the bowl of offering on his head, unmoving, subsisting on air alone. Years passed like silent breaths of time.
“Still as a tree he stood,” said Nārada,
“bearing the sacrifice upon his head,
while winds blew, rains fell,
and suns rose and set unseen.”
Among the ascetics who beheld this miracle was Galava, a young disciple filled with devotion. Out of reverence and love, he began to serve his master—tending him through ages, guarding the sacred cāru, and imitating his vow.
After a hundred years had passed, Dharma again appeared in the guise of Vasiṣṭha, hungering once more. Beholding Viśvāmitra still standing, with food ever fresh upon his head, Dharma accepted it at last and said,
“I am gratified, O sage of steadfast soul.”
With that blessing, the illusion vanished; and Viśvāmitra, his long trial complete, transcended his Kṣatriya birth and was made a Brahmarṣi, radiant in spirit.
Delighted with Galava’s devotion, the sage said:
“O my faithful disciple,
by thy service hast thou conquered thy teacher.
Go now where thou wilt—
thou art free.”
But Galava, filled with humility, bowed and said:
“O revered master,
no disciple leaves his preceptor without a guru-dakṣiṇā.
Declare, therefore, what final gift thou desirest.
Without such offering, service is incomplete.”
Viśvāmitra, weary of obligation, sought to release him and said repeatedly,
“Go, my son, and trouble me no further.”
But Galava persisted, bound by devotion and the belief that without giving, he would not attain peace.
“What shall I give thee, O master?” he implored.
“Tell me the offering that will please thee.”
Seeing his obstinacy, Viśvāmitra’s patience waned, and anger, subtle as fire beneath ash, arose within him. At last he said:
“If thou must give, then bring me eight hundred steeds,
each white as the rays of the moon,
each with one ear black.
This is thy gift; now go, O Galava.”
Thus, through piety turned rigid, devotion became bondage, and virtue overreached itself.
“So it was,” said Nārada,
“that Galava, blinded by excess of duty,
took upon himself an impossible vow.
And thus I say, O King,
obstinacy, even in righteousness,
bringeth sorrow to the wise.”
Then Vaiśampāyana added, addressing Janamejaya:
“Such were Nārada’s words to Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son—
a warning spoken by gods through the voice of men.
But where pride is the counsellor,
and destiny the driver,
the chariot of wisdom turneth not.”
Then the divine sage Nārada, continuing his tale, said to the Kaurava prince:
“Thus spoken to by Viśvāmitra of immeasurable austerity,
the ascetic Galava became a prey to despair.
His heart burned like dry grass under fire,
his body grew pale as ash.
Sleep fled from his eyes,
food lost its taste;
he moved like a shadow without life.”
Overcome by sorrow and shame, the disciple of Viśvāmitra lamented aloud:
“Where shall I find friends with wealth?
Where shall I find the steeds of moonlike hue?
No savings have I, no treasure hidden;
how may I fulfil my vow?
What joy is left in eating?
What sweetness in life itself?
The love of living dies in me like a quenched flame.
Better the far shore of the ocean,
better the world’s last verge,
than to linger here in disgrace.
For the poor man, no happiness exists
without severe exertion;
he is burdened with debt and stripped of honour.
Death is preferable to life
for him who, having received bounty,
cannot repay his benefactor.
The acts of one stained with falsehood
bear no fruit in heaven.
Without truth there is no beauty,
no children, no power, no influence.
How then shall I reach bliss?
No ungrateful man hath ever won fame,
no such one hath found place or joy.
Wealth alone sustains a man’s kin;
without it he is a wretch scarcely alive.
Even so am I, destitute,
stained with falsehood,
ungrateful and undone—
unable to return my preceptor’s grace.
Yet having endeavoured to the utmost,
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I shall lay down my life.
Before this I never asked aught even of the gods,
and for this the deities esteemed me in sacrifice.
But now I will go to the highest refuge,
to Viṣṇu, Lord of the three worlds,
to Kṛṣṇa, eternal shelter of all.
Bowing to Him,
I will seek the source of all gifts
possessed by gods and asuras alike.”
Thus lamented Galava, his heart a sea of grief. But in that moment of despair, a flash of wings and light appeared before him.
“Lo!” said Nārada, “Garuḍa,
son of Vinata,
king of the sky and friend of the sage,
descended radiant as dawn.
With his mighty pinions he stirred the air,
but his voice was soft as a friend’s embrace.”
The eagle spoke, his eyes filled with affection:
“Thou art dear to me, O Brāhmaṇa,
and a friend’s duty is to uplift a friend.
When prosperity smiles upon one,
he must fulfil the wishes of those he loves.
The wealth I have is the grace of Viṣṇu,
younger brother of Vāsava.
Already have I spoken to Him on thy behalf;
already hath He granted thy wish.
Come now, O Galava, tarry not!
I shall bear thee swiftly across the ocean,
to the earth’s furthest shore if need be.
Mount upon my back;
let despair be left behind.”
Then Galava, beholding the son of Vinatā, felt his heart lighten like a sky after storm. And the wind of Garuḍa’s wings whispered of hope, bearing him toward destiny.
Then the mighty Garuḍa, radiant as a second sun, spoke to Galava, his voice deep as thunder yet gentle as the hymn of dawn. His wings spread like clouds of gold, his eyes shone with the fire of divine sight.
“O Galava,” said he, “commanded am I by the Lord—
the source of all wisdom and the cause of all that moves.
Tell me, O Brāhmaṇa, toward which quarter shall I bear thee?
The east, the south, the west, or the north—
which path calls thy spirit first?”
The ascetic bowed his head in silence, his heart filled with reverence. Then Garuḍa, discerning his unspoken wonder, began to describe the sacred eastern realm, where all beginnings rise like light upon the waters.
“Hear, O twice-born one, of the Pūrva-diś,
the Eastern Quarter—
the gate of Day and Time,
the path where the universe first awoke.
There rises Sūrya, the illuminator of worlds,
whose golden chariot divides night from life.
There, at eventide, the Sādhyas perform their austerities,
their tapas glowing like embers in the sky.
There was born that cosmic Intelligence
which pervades the whole creation,
where stand the two eyes of Dharma
and Dharma himself—watchful, resplendent, eternal.”
“There first did the daughters of Dakṣa
bring forth their children;
there the sons of Kaśyapa multiplied
and spread the races of gods and beings.
That quarter is the fountain of all celestial fortune,
for there was Śakra anointed
as king among the immortals.
There too did Indra and the gods perform
their ascetic penances of old.
Because it was once overspread by the Suras,
it is called Pūrva—the first,
the cradle of divine prosperity.”
Then the king of birds spread his vast wings wider, his words flowing like waves of Vedic chant:
“Here the Creator first sang the Vedas,
and Sūrya taught the Gāyatrī
to those who praise with sacred breath.
Here did Yajñavalkya receive from the Sun
the Yajur Vedas,
and here was the Soma first pressed and sanctified,
its nectar tasted by the gods.
Here the Homa-fires, gladdened by mantras,
first drank offerings born of themselves;
here did Varuṇa, descending to the nether sea,
attain the wealth of waters;
and here was born, grew, and passed away
the ancient sage Vasiṣṭha.”
“From here sprang a hundred branches of Om,
that primal sound of being;
here the smoke-eating Munis feed
on the breath of sacrifice.
Here, in days long past,
a thousand boars and creatures were slain by Śakra
as offerings to the deities.
And it is here, when the Thousand-Rayed One arises,
that he burns away the wicked and the ungrateful
among men and Asuras alike.”
The voice of Garuḍa deepened, vast as space itself.
“Know this, O sage:
this is the Gate of the Three Worlds,
the path that leads to heaven and felicity.
It is the cradle of sacrifice,
the dawn of all beginnings.
This is the Eastern Quarter—Pūrva,
holy and eternal.
If this pleases thee, O friend of faith,
we shall set our course hither.
Yet if another direction stirs thy spirit,
speak, and I shall bear thee there as well.
Listen now, O Galava,
to the glories of the other quarters of the world.”
And saying this, the son of Vinatā, the eternal bearer of Viṣṇu, paused in his flight, wings shimmering like living flame, awaiting the Brāhmaṇa’s will.
Then mighty Garuḍa, whose pinions are the winds of the worlds, spoke again to Galava, describing the second path of the cosmos—the quarter where time itself grows heavy and the deeds of men ripen to their fruits.
“In days of yore,” said the king of birds,
“Vivasvat—the radiant sun—
after performing a great sacrifice,
gave this region as dakṣiṇā to his preceptor.
Therefore is this realm named Dakṣiṇa, the South.
Here dwell the Pitṛs of the three worlds,
the ancestors who receive the offerings of sons.
Here also live the celestials who feed on smoke,
and the Viśvedevās, eternal sharers in sacrifice,
worshipped in every world,
dwelling in union with the Pitṛs.
This is the second door of Yama,
the region where Time is measured
in truṭis and lavas,
the smallest moments of existence.”
Here abide celestial ṛṣis, Pitṛloka ṛṣis, and royal sages, all dwelling in serene joy. Religion and Truth are stationed here, said Garuḍa; here do all actions blossom into their destined fruits. This is the ultimate goal of the departed, yet few arrive in bliss, for the way is veiled in darkness.
“In this region,” continued the son of Vinatā,
“countless malevolent Rākṣasas
dwell to torment the sinful.
Yet also in the bowers of Mandara,
and the hermitages of the seers,
the Gandharvas chant the Sāma hymns,
songs that steal away both heart and mind.
Here once Raivata, a Daitya king,
hearing those hymns in sweet voice,
renounced his wife, his friends, his kingdom,
and vanished into the woods in search of truth.”
It was in this region, Garuḍa said, that Manu and the son of Yavakṛta together set a limit beyond which the Sun may never overstep. Here also the mighty Rāvaṇa, descendant of Pulastya, performed fierce austerities seeking immortality; here the Asura Vṛtra provoked the wrath of Indra.
“In this realm,” the eagle declared,
“forms dissolve back into the five elements;
the lives of the wicked rot in torment.
Here flows the river Vaitaraṇī,
filled with the bodies of the condemned—
a stream of darkness and pain.
Those who arrive here taste
extremes of joy and misery alike.
Here the sun drops sweet waters,
and passing on toward the region of Vasiṣṭha,
sheds dew once more.”
Then, with a glint in his eye like lightning between clouds, Garuḍa recalled his own past:
“It was here,” said he,
“that I seized as food a prodigious elephant
battling with an enormous tortoise in the depths.
Here also was born Cakradhanu,
sprung from the Sun—
later called Kapila,
who with his fiery glance
reduced the sixty thousand sons of Sagara.
Here too a class of Brāhmaṇas, called the Śivas,
mastered all the Vedas,
attained perfection through tapas,
and at last reached eternal salvation.”
The son of Vinatā spread his wings wider, his shadow like night upon the earth.
“In this region also lies the city Bhogavatī,
ruled by Vāsuki, Takṣaka, and Airāvata,
where serpents and Nāgas dwell in splendour.
Yet the path to it is shrouded in a gloom so thick
that not even the Sun nor Agni can pierce it.
Worthy of worship though thou art,
even thou, O Galava,
must pass this road when thy time comes.”
Then the mighty bird lowered his voice and asked:
“Tell me now, O best of Brāhmaṇas,
if thou wouldst sojourn in this direction.
Or shall I unfold to thee instead
the glories of the Western Quarter,
whose secrets yet remain untold?”
And saying this, the king of birds hovered like a mountain afloat upon the winds, awaiting the sage’s will.
Then the mighty Garuḍa, the wind upon whose wings the worlds are borne, turned his radiant eyes toward the setting sun and spoke once more to Galava, revealing the sanctity of the western horizon where day meets night.
“Behold, O Brāhmaṇa,” said he,
“this is the beloved quarter of Varuṇa,
the Ocean King, Lord of Waters,
ruler of all that flows and swells.
Here he had his origin;
here sovereignty abides eternal.
Since the sun, at the day’s end,
withdraws his golden rays to rest here,
this realm is called Paścima, the West—
the place of returning light.”
For the guardianship of all rivers and seas, the divine Kaśyapa once anointed Varuṇa as king in this direction, bestowing on him dominion over every aquatic creature.
“Here,” said the celestial eagle,
“the moon, drinking the six nectars of Varuṇa,
renews his youth each fortnight,
rising again in tranquil splendour.
Here the Daityas, struck by the wind-god’s storm,
were routed and bound by tempest’s breath;
spent and trembling, they fell asleep
in this very region—the sleep that knows no waking.”
“In this quarter stands Asta,
the mountain of sunset,
tenderly embracing the weary sun
and drawing him into twilight’s arms.
From hence issue Night and Sleep,
daughters of dusk,
who spread their veils upon all living beings,
robbing them of half their span of life.”
It was here, Garuḍa said, that Śakra, beholding his stepmother Diti asleep with child, cut the embryo into forty-nine parts—and from those fragments arose the Maruts, gods of storm and wind.
“Here stretch the roots of Himavat,
far beneath the world,
twined around the sunken Mandara,
eternal mountain of the sea.
Even if one journeyed a thousand years,
the end of those roots could not be reached.”
In this same sacred expanse dwells Surabhī, the celestial mother of cows. She comes daily to the golden-lotus lake by the ocean’s rim and pours forth her milk upon the waters, blessing the three worlds with nourishment.
“Here, within the sea’s vast breast,” said Garuḍa,
“is seen the headless trunk of Svarbhānu (Rāhu),
ever striving to devour sun and moon.
Here chants Suvarṇaśiras, sage invincible,
his voice eternal as the Vedas,
his green hair waving like sacred grass.
Here too, by the command of the Sun,
the daughter of sage Harimedhas
abides motionless in the sky,
arrested mid-flight by the words, ‘Stop, stop.’”
“In this region,” continued the eagle,
“wind and fire and earth and water
are freed from pain, day and night alike.
From this point the sun’s path begins to bend,
and here the stars and constellations
enter the solar sphere.
For twenty-eight nights they move with the sun,
and thence emerge again
to follow the silver course of the moon.”
Here are born the rivers that feed the seas; here gather the waters of all the worlds into Varuṇa’s abode.
“In this region,” said Garuḍa,
“lies the domain of Anarta,
prince among serpents,
and the peerless dwelling of Viṣṇu,
beginningless, endless, all-pervading.
Here too stands the hermitage of Kaśyapa,
son of Marīci, seer of seers,
who blesses this western realm.”
Then, folding his vast wings till they glimmered like two dusks joined, Garuḍa turned to his companion and said with gentle solemnity:
“Thus, O Galava, have I shown thee the western quarter,
domain of the waters, gate of rest.
Tell me now, O twice-born sage,
toward which side shall we turn next—
or dost thou desire to hear
of the glories of the Northern Quarter?”
And so saying, the son of Vinatā—glorious Garuḍa, banner of the Eternal Lord—hovered motionless in the amber air, awaiting the ascetic’s will.
Then Garuḍa, the celestial mount of Viṣṇu, spreading his golden wings that gleamed like dawn on the snows of Himavat, spoke to Galava, his voice deep as the hum of creation itself.
“Hear now, O Brāhmaṇa, of the sacred Uttara,
the northern realm of light.
Because deliverance (uttaraṇa) from sin is gained here,
and salvation blossoms upon this path,
this quarter is called Uttara—the north.
And since the line of its treasures
stretches east and west across the heavens,
it is also named Madhyama—the middle,
the pillar of the world’s axis.”
“None may dwell here, O bull among twice-born men,
who is unrestrained in passion or untrue in heart.
Only the pure, the serene, the self-subdued
find refuge in this exalted realm.”
Here, upon the sacred slopes of Badarī, eternally reside Kṛṣṇa Nārāyaṇa and Jishnu (Nara), the twin sages who are one in spirit and equal in might, together with Brahmā, the Creator.
“Here too,” said Garuḍa,
“on the breast of Himavat,
dwells Maheśvara, radiant as the fire
that blazes forth at the end of the Yuga.
As Puruṣa, He sports with Prakṛti,
the Universal Mother.
None may behold Him save Nara and Nārāyaṇa—
not the gods with Indra at their head,
nor the Gandharvas, Yakṣas, or Siddhas.
Though veiled by Māyā,
He is seen by Viṣṇu, the thousand-headed,
thousand-eyed Eternal.”
“It was here that Candra, the moon,
was installed as sovereign of all Brāhmaṇas.
Here too did Mahādeva,
receiving Gaṅgā upon his matted locks,
let her descend to earth
for the purification of men.
Here Umā performed her austerities,
desiring to win Śiva as her Lord;
here shone Kāma, wrath, and Himavat himself,
with the radiant maiden by his side.
Upon Kailāsa, white as truth,
the Lord of Treasures, Kubera,
was made king of Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, and Gandharvas.
Here lies his jeweled garden, Citraratha,
and the hermitage of the ascetics Vaikhānasa.”
“Here flows the heavenly river Mandākinī,
gliding through the heights of Mandara;
here bloom the gardens Saugandhi-kanaka,
watched by vigilant Rākṣasas.
Here stretch the plains of emerald grass,
and the forest of plantains,
and the trees of heaven—the Sautanakas,
fragrant with celestial honey.
Here dwell the Siddhas, whose souls are pure,
who move by will alone,
their abodes radiant with every joy.
Here shine the Seven Ṛṣis with Arundhatī,
and here first rises the constellation Svātī.
Here too resides Brahmā,
near the living spirit of Yajña,
while sun, moon, and stars
revolve eternally before his gaze.”
In this holy region, the sage said, dwell also the mysterious Ṛṣis of Dharma, guardians of the Gaṅgā’s source. Their origins, forms, and austerities are unknown to men.
“With a thousand vessels,” said Garuḍa,
“they serve the guests of heaven;
their food they summon by thought alone.
None who passes beyond their watch survives,
save Nara and Nārāyaṇa themselves—
those eternal ascetics who alone
traversed that guarded realm.”
“Here lies the mountain of Kailāsa,
seat of Kubera and the radiant Ailavila;
here were born the ten Apsarases
called Vidyutprabhās,
daughters of lightning and song.
Here once did Viṣṇu,
striding with three steps over the worlds
in the sacrifice of Bali,
cover this entire northern quarter;
hence is the sacred spot called Viṣṇupāda,
the Footprint of the Lord.”
“At Uśiravīja, beside the golden lake,
the noble King Marutta
performed his matchless sacrifice.
Here, too, gleam the shining mines of Himavat,
where the Ṛṣi Jimūta,
beholding boundless gold,
bestowed it upon the Brāhmaṇas,
and they, in reverence,
named it Jaimuta-gold, after him.”
“Every morn and eve,” continued Garuḍa,
“the Regents of the worlds assemble here
and proclaim—
‘Whose work shall we fulfil today?’
Thus is this quarter the seat of divine governance,
the abode of all power and wisdom.
Because it is superior to all,
it is called Uttara—the higher, the northern.
Thus, O Galava, have I revealed to thee
the four quarters in their glory—
east, south, west, and north—
the pathways of gods and men.
Tell me now, O best of Brāhmaṇas,
which direction thou wouldst behold next.
For I am ready to bear thee
wherever thy heart may choose.”
And having spoken thus, Garuḍa, radiant as fire, hovered like a living hymn upon the wind, awaiting the sage’s will—his golden feathers gleaming against the eternal snows of the north, where salvation itself is born.