Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 5 - Sambhava - Chapter 6 - Yayāti’s Reckoning

Vaiśampāyana said:

Hear now, O sinless prince, the ancient genealogies—recorded, sacred, and pleasing to Dharma, Artha, and Kāma—that of the royal sages, whose lineages illuminate the three worlds like the sun pierces the clouds.

Dakṣa, the lord of all creation, from whom flowed the streams of life; Manu, son of Sūrya, the first king to set law upon Earth; Bharata, the mighty, whose name this race bears; Ruru, gentle and resolute; Puru, whose line prospered through sacrifice; and Ajamīḍha, noble and unshaken in dharma.

These names, O son of the Bhāratas, are lamps in the long corridor of time.

I shall also recount to thee the genealogies of the Yādavas, the Kurus, and the sovereigns who upheld the name of Bhārata.

Sacred are these lineages, and their recitation is no small act—it brings wealth to the house, fame to the name, and long life upon the Earth.

Each of these royal seers—shining in splendour, burning with energy like the great Ṛṣis—lived lives that are worthy of remembrance.

Vaiśampāyana said:

O Janamejaya, listen now to the sacred origin of beings, how from ascetic power and divine resolve the world of creatures unfolded.

The sage Pracetas had ten sons, all devoted to tapas, firm in virtue and wisdom. From their mouths issued flames—not of wrath but penance—and in the days of old, they burned away forests of noxious trees and poisonous plants that smothered the Earth and choked mankind.

Flames from austerity rose to the sky, devouring all that shadowed the land—not in anger, but in service of life, they cleared the path for man’s breath to expand.

After these ten, another great being was born—Dakṣa, from whom all living creatures have sprung. Therefore is he rightly called Grandfather of Creation.

This mighty Muni, son of Pracetas, took to wife the noble Vīriṇī, and from their union sprang a thousand sons, each devoted to rigid vows, each mirroring Dakṣa's own brilliance and discipline.

But lo—Nārada, the eternal wanderer, he whose wisdom cuts deeper than any blade, taught these sons the sacred Sāṅkhya philosophy, leading them toward the path of renunciation.

“Salvation lies not in creation alone,”

said Nārada to the eager youth,

“but in knowledge of self, in the severance of bonds,

where silence is the gateway to truth.”

Then Dakṣa, moved once more to fulfill the cosmic will, desiring progeny for the balance of worlds, begot fifty daughters, and consecrated them all as his own—that through them, the worlds might be born and sustained.

To Dharma, he gave ten—pure, radiant, and wise. To Kaśyapa, son of Marīci, thirteen more. And to Chandra, the Moon, he gave twenty-seven, the goddesses of time, the Nakṣatras, who circle heaven in their eternal dance, marking the seasons and rhythms of life.

Kaśyapa, of steadfast penance, begat on Aditi—the eldest of his wives—the Ādityas, gods of radiant might. Among them was Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt, and Vivasvat, the blazing Sun.

From Vivasvat came Yama, lord of justice and keeper of the dead.

Then was born from Mārtaṇḍa's line, another soul of luminous mind—the lawgiver, the father of men, wise and steadfast, the first Manu among them.

Vaiśampāyana said:

And Manu, endowed with wisdom vast, devoted to dharma, steadfast and just, became the root of human kind, from whose great line the Mānava rose. All men—Brāhmaṇas, Kṣatriyas, and others—are his children in flesh and name.

“From Manu flow the rivers of men,

Brāhmaṇas in penance, kings in might.

All bear his name upon the Earth,

and shine through him with borrowed light.”

In time, O king, the Brāhmaṇas and Kṣatriyas became as one, united in pursuit of Veda and rule. Those sons of Manu who were Brāhmaṇas devoted themselves to sacred lore, while others took to the sword and throne, performing the dharma of Kṣatriyas.

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Manu, the progenitor of kings, begat ten illustrious children:

Vena, swift-tempered and haughty,Dhṛṣṇu, the fierce,Nāriṣyaṇ, noble and wise,Nābhāga, seeker of truth,Ikṣvāku, founder of mighty lineages,Kāruṣa, lord of many lands,Śaryāti, of sacred renown,Ilā, his only daughter, strange in birth,Pṛṣadhra, who walked the warrior's path,and Nābhāgāriṣṭa, the tenth of the noble band.These ten took to Kṣatriya ways, ruling kingdoms, upholding law.

But beyond these, he had fifty sons more, who, quarrelling with one another, perished in strife—devoured by the fire of fraternal war.

“Like stars that rise and fall unseen,

their names are lost to time's deep stream.

In wrath and pride, they sowed their end,

and left no legacy to tend.”

Now hear of Ilā, the daughter of Manu, who bore a son, the radiant Purūravas. Strange was his birth—for Ilā was both his mother and his sire.

“Of a womb that held both flame and seed,

came forth a prince of wondrous deed.”

And Purūravas, famed in lore, held sway over thirteen island realms. Though born of mortal frame, his court was graced by superhuman beings.

But alas, intoxicated by power, he turned from dharma and wisdom's light, and dared to rob the Brāhmaṇas of their wealth. Their wrath he scorned, their counsel he spurned.

From Brahmaloka came Sanatkumāra, the eternal youth, bearing words of wisdom—but Purūravas, lost in pride, paid no heed.

Then did the seers, in anger rise, and curse him with their righteous might.

“O king, thy pride shall be thy fall.

From heaven's favour thou art exiled.

In robbing sages of their due,

thou hast undone thy throne, thy truth.”

And so the mighty Purūravas, of dazzling splendour, peerless grace, was struck down by the fire of brahminic rage—his glory vanished like a dream at dawn.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Yayāti, son of the mighty Nahuṣa, ruled the earth like Indra in heaven—a sovereign unmatched in virtue and sacrifice, one who upheld dharma and delighted the hearts of gods and men alike. He subdued all the quarters of the earth by the strength of his arms and made offerings unto the fire with wealth poured like rain from the clouds.

To him were born five sons of great renown, from two wives: Devayānī, the daughter of Śukra, and Śarmiṣṭhā, the princess of the Dānavas.

From Devayānī he begot Yadu and Turvasu, and from Śarmiṣṭhā were born Druhyu, Anu, and Puru.

These five, O King, were great in prowess and illustrious in fame. But Yayāti, in the pride of youth, was cursed by Śukra, his father-in-law, to suffer premature old age for his sin.

Then Yayāti, desiring to reclaim the bloom of youth, turned to his sons and said:

“O sons of mine, take upon yourselves my old age,

And in return receive my youthful vigour.

Thus shall I enjoy life for some time more.”

One by one, the elder sons—Yadu, Turvasu, Druhyu, and Anu—refused, their hearts turned by pride and the intoxication of youth.

But Puru, the youngest and noblest, bowed his head and said:

“O father, be thy desire fulfilled.

Let thy old age pass unto me,

And may thy youth return as thou desirest.”

Then Yayāti, touched and gladdened, embraced his son, and by the power of the curse and boon, their ages were exchanged.

For a thousand years, Yayāti enjoyed all pleasures of the senses, surrounded by splendour and grace, until at last wearied and wise, he renounced all and returned to the forest. There, he gave back youth to Puru and took on his rightful age.

To Puru, Yayāti gave the kingship of the world, declaring him the true bearer of his legacy, and thus from Puru arose the mighty Paurava line, from which, O Janamejaya, thou thyself art born.

Vaiśampāyana said:

The sons of Yayāti, O King, were all mighty bowmen and radiant with virtue, born of two noble women—Devayānī, daughter of the sage Śukra, and Śarmiṣṭhā, the princess of the Dānavas.

From Devayānī were born Yadu and Turvasu, from Śarmiṣṭhā sprang Druhyu, Anu, and Puru—all resplendent, all valiant, but it was Puru who shone with the light of selfless dharma.

Now Yayāti, having ruled his people long and well, was seized by old age—that cruel thief of beauty and strength, that withering hand of time that bends the back and dims the eye.

And he, stricken with decrepitude before his time—cursed by Śukra for the transgression of desire—summoned his sons and said:

“O sons, beloved of my heart,

Hear now your father’s plea.

My youth is lost to the curse of a sage,

Yet my desire for joy still burns.

If one of you will take this old age from me

And lend me your youth,

I shall taste once more the sweetness of life

And revel in the joys I crave.”

To him, Yadu, his firstborn, replied:

“O father, thou art wise and great,

But what thou askest is too hard.

How shall I—young and strong—

Wear the burden of your age?”

One after another, Turvasu, Druhyu, and Anu all declined with heavy words and downcast eyes, refusing to share the burden of their father’s age.

Then rose Puru, the youngest, the noblest, and said:

“O king, thou didst give me life—

Let me return the gift.

Take thou my youth, O monarch,

And enjoy the pleasures thy heart desires.

I shall bear thy age,

And with that burden rule thy kingdom in thy name.”

Hearing this, Yayāti, overcome with joy, touched his son’s head and blessed him. By the power of his penances, he transferred his decrepitude onto Puru and himself became once again youthful and radiant.

And thus did Yayāti revel in the pleasures of life—as a lion among men, strong and adorned, while Puru, bearing the burden of age, ruled the kingdom with grace and wisdom.

Vaiśampāyana said:

Then, when a thousand years had rolled away, King Yayāti—mighty as a roaring tiger—remained unbroken in strength, untamed in desire. He reveled still in the embrace of Devayānī and Śarmiṣṭhā, and in the pleasure gardens of Citraratha, king of the Gandharvas, he delighted in the company of the Apsarā Viśvācī, whose beauty could melt even the hearts of sages.

Yet even with all this—with royal power, celestial lovers, and pleasures fit for the gods—the fire of craving burned ever fiercer.

The wise king paused. He remembered the truths of old, sacred verses preserved in the Purāṇas:

“Desire is never quenched by enjoyment—

As clarified butter poured into fire only feeds the flame.

Though one may own the wealth of the world,

Gold, diamonds, cattle, and countless queens,

Yet never shall the heart find rest.

But when one ceases from sin—

In thought, in speech, in deed—

When one harms none, desires none, fears none,

Then does the soul shine in the light of Brahman.”

Having pondered thus, the noble Yayāti, disillusioned with indulgence, quieted his restless mind through reflection.

He returned to Puru the burden of age, and restored to him his rightful youth. Though his own hunger still burned, he chose renunciation over reign.

Then, calling his son before the court, the king addressed him with solemn grace:

“Thou, O Puru, art my true heir.

Not Yadu nor Druhyu, nor the others—

It is by thee my name shall live.

In ages to come, let the world proclaim:

‘This is the line of Puru—

The race of Yayāti, upheld by a son's sacrifice.’”

Thus was Puru established on the throne, a youth bearing the legacy of renunciation and virtue. And the great Yayāti, having cast off desire like a worn-out garment, departed for the forest, seeking the path of mokṣa.

Vaiśampāyana continued:

Then that tiger among kings, Yayāti, having anointed his noble son Puru as sovereign, renounced the pleasures of palace and throne. He turned away from gold and garlands, and set his course toward the sacred mount of Bhṛgu, resolved to walk the path of austerity.

There, amidst the silence of ancient trees, he practiced penance with unwavering heart. Seasons passed like falling leaves, and the fire of his longing turned inward, burning away the last vestiges of desire.

Clad in bark, with matted locks, he stood like a pillar of resolve. Sustained by air and the light of truth, he offered his body unto Time.

At last, the mighty monarch, having gathered vast ascetic merit, yielded his mortal frame through the vow of fasting. With his faithful queens beside him, he cast off the bonds of flesh—serene, unafraid.

And so he rose—

Like flame drawn upward from the altar—

To the realms beyond decay,

Ascending to heaven, crowned not with jewels,

But with the radiance of renunciation.