She has no face—only a body with a lotus for a head. Images of this faceless woman have been found all over India. They were molded out of clay and carved in rock between the third and the eighth centuries C.E. Knees bent, feet spread apart, breasts and genitals exposed, her characteristic posture is described in the Rig Veda, the oldest and most sacred of Hindu scriptures, as one from which sprang the earth. Known as uttanapada, it is the position taken by a woman when she is making love or delivering a child.
Who is this faceless woman? A lover? A mother? A goddess? Nobody knows. Orthodox scriptures offer no explanations. There is no direct reference to such a goddess in the Hindu liturgy. Perhaps the overt sexuality of the image has proved too embarrassing. The embarrassment is evident even in folk explanations for the image:
The great god Shiva was making love to his consort Parvati when sages entered their cave to salute the divine couple. Shiva continued without a pause, much to the disgust of the visitors. They cursed Shiva to be worshipped in the form of a phallus. Embarrassed by the intrusion, Parvati covered her face with a lotus to become Lajja-gauri, the shy mother-goddess.
Folklore from the state of Karnataka
Villagers, many of them laborers and serfs who come from the lower strata of the Hindu caste hierarchy, seem more familiar with the icons of Lajja-gauri. They identify her as the primal mother-goddess, the life giver, the life sustainer, the life taker. They call her Adya Shakti (primal energy), Bhudevi (earth-goddess), Renuka (soil maiden), Yellamma (everybody’s mother), Sakambari (mother of vegetation), Nagna-Ambika (naked mother). To them, the divinity of the mother-goddess comes from her ability to bring forth life. She is goddess because of her body, not her head.
Fertility, not personality, is what makes woman, earth, and goddess divine. This is reaffirmed by the lotus that replaces the head of Lajja-gauri. The lotus is an ancient fertility symbol representing the power of Nature to draw upon the life force of a bog and transform slime into an object of beauty. Goddesses all over the world have been worshipped primarily because they are mothers. Biology has always been used to define the woman’s role in the secular and sacred scheme of things. Not so for man.
The contribution of male biology to the cycle of life is spasmodic. After he sheds his seed, the chthonian machinery takes over. The womb molds new life; the breasts bloom. The penis lies flaccid, its work done. The male role in Nature’s grand plan, though vital, is momentary. The mind ponders: Does man exist only to shed seed?
So while the female body is busy nurturing and nourishing life, the male head questions the purpose of existence. It tries to analyze, understand, and seek meaning in all things. It becomes aware that a woman cannot reject her throbbing biology. Her body yokes her to the brute, inflexible rhythm of Nature’s procreative law. Every month her body will shed blood and remind her of its potential and purpose. She may not want to have sex, but through love or rape, her body will bear a child. She cannot will her way out of menstruation and pregnancy. Nature claims her body, transforming her into a chthonian tool. Woman must accept her biology. Man does not have to.
Lajja-gauri: Pavarti as the shy mother-goddess. Stone carving; Panchalingeshvara temple, Andhra Pradesh. Late seventh century.
Man is the only creature with the potential to oppose Nature’s obsession with procreation. Man can choose not to shed his seed in woman. Unlike the bird, the bee, the beast, there is no biological imperative that modulates his sex drive. He can have sex for fun, at will, or not at all. He can resist seduction. If he does not will it, he cannot be forced to shed his seed. His mind can discipline his body not to respond to the biological urge. He has the capacity to challenge the humbling passivity of all creatures to Nature.
Nature is the ultimate authority in the cosmos, winding and unwinding the life force with a rhythmic unconscious regularity, sweeping all creatures to heights of ecstasy before tossing them down to the depths of despair. Nature creates and destroys, inevitably, eventually. Before its awesome power, everyone seems hopelessly helpless. Its impersonality makes the situation worse. So the male mind personified Nature through the female body. Both are beautiful for a purpose, blooming and withering without pause, beyond human control. Both share the life-giving and life-taking vocabulary whose purpose the male head sought to fathom.
The mind rejects the limitations imposed by the body. Imagination does not tolerate subservience to Nature. The male head confronts the female body. Sometimes the mind succumbs, at other times it fights or flees. Flight, fight, freeze— out of this primal reaction to Nature, religion, culture, and civilization came into being.
The mind imagines breaking free from the confines of biology. It conjures up worlds where there is no birth, no death, no change, no suffering. Through mysticism, man hopes to break the fetters that bind him to earth and transcend to the blissful beyond—the realm where man is in charge, a place called heaven.
When flight is impossible, he fights. He explores the mysteries of Nature and uses this knowledge to domesticate and control Nature. He physically suppresses and mentally represses the dark, unwholesome side of Nature. He makes laws that check the dark eroticism of Nature. He builds walls that shut out the ugliness. He writes poetry that mourns the end of good times. Human literature studiously ignores the fact that nothing ever happens in Nature; events keep happening. Man chooses a moment in infinity as the climax of his script and decides whether he wants to celebrate or lament life.
When fight and flight are not possible, man freezes. Feeling helpless, he adores Nature’s favorable side and shuns Nature’s unfavorable side in the hope that he will experience more of the former and less of the latter. Mother-goddesses come into being; killer-goddesses are appeased or ignored.
Every school of mystical thought, every occult doctrine, every science, every law, every lore is male reaction to the body of female Nature. Every worldview is an attempt to fathom the universe and make life more meaningful.
The Hindu worldview is how the Hindu man perceived life. He saw Nature in the female body. When he adored Nature, he adored woman. When he rejected Nature, he rejected woman. When he exploited Nature, he exploited woman. When he manipulated Nature, he manipulated woman. When he celebrated Nature, he celebrated woman.
To understand women in sacred Hindu lore, an understanding of the Hindu worldview is vital. In this view life does not begin with birth and does not end with death. Birth and death are alternating events in a relentless journey through the realm of worldly pleasures. This much-desired destination of color, sound, texture, fragrance, and flavor is called samsara.
Birth is the acquisition of body and mind that enables one to experience worldly life. Death is the loss of that body and mind. Death is not the end of existence; it is just a transition into a state devoid of sensations but rich in memories that drags one back into the land of the living.
When the body and mind are shed, what remains is the spirit or atma. The spirit is everything that the mind and body are not. It is immortal. It is intangible. It has no attributes, hence it cannot be defined. It is the animating principle of the cosmos. It bestows consciousness to a living entity. It is cosmic intelligence that expresses itself through matter.
Matter is energy that flows unconsciously and randomly through the space-time continuum, evolving, dissolving, endlessly transforming. Left alone, matter tends to drift toward entropy—dissolution into a formless, fluid state. Spirit opposes entropy. It rouses the dormant power of matter and transforms it into life-giving energy known as rasa. Charged with the spirit, unconscious elements metamorphose into mind and body. Mind and body ensheath the soul, respond to external stimuli, and generate thoughts, feelings, and memories. Thus, living entities that think, feel, and react to samsara come into being.
When the body decays and the mind withers away, the spirit moves on to the land of the dead and waits for another opportunity to unite with matter and return to the land of the living, to think and feel again.
When this opportunity arrives, the qualities of the new mind-body sheath depend on deeds done in the past life. Circumstances surrounding the new mind-body sheath also depend on these deeds. The belief that every event is a reaction to something done in the past is karma. Karma rotates the cycle of life.
As long as there are reactions to be experienced, atma is bound to the wheel of existence. Somewhere in this journey, overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings, an ego develops that obstructs the view of the spirit within. This generates restlessness. A quest for meaning begins. Answers are sought in the realm of worldly delights. There is action, reaction, and a fettering of the spirit to samsara. Release comes only with the realization that the true self is not the ego, but the blissful spirit within. Realization occurs only when samsara is witnessed, not reacted to. This is moksha.
The spirit realizes itself through mind and body. Mind and body look for the spirit only after confronting the limitations of samsara. Thus, the journey through samsara is the journey of self-realization, a journey from the reality without to the truth within.
The Hindu views life as the opportunity to fulfill karmic obligations (dharma), indulge the ego with worldly power (artha), gratify the senses with worldly pleasure (kama), and discover the spirit (moksha). He can either react to samsara or simply witness it. The former fetters, the latter liberates.
What came first, the key or the lock? When did it all begin? In reply, Hindu seers will ask the inquirer to point to the corner of a circle. When futility of the task is realized, the seers will smile and quote lines from the Rig Veda: “In the beginning, there was neither existence nor nonexistence, neither space nor sky, neither breath nor breathlessness. Who came first? Was it the seed placer or the seed acceptor? Was it desire? Wherefrom? Who knows? Even the gods came later.”
Life is conceived when spirit fuses with matter. At a microcosmic level, birth is observed after a bee visits a blossom, a seed is sown in soil, and a bull mounts a cow. Until the pollen is transmitted, the flower cannot turn into fruit. The soil on its own cannot create a plant. A neglected womb can only shed blood.
Seers, mystics, and alchemists, rishis, yogis, and siddhas, saw within the pollen, the seed, and the semen the spark of life that activates the generative powers of the flower, the soil, and the womb. They felt rasa racing through feminine forms and atma radiant in masculine things. They concluded: Man is the keeper of spirit, and woman, mistress of matter.
Hindu scriptures state, “As is the microcosm, so is the macrocosm; as is the individual body, so is the cosmic body; as is the individual mind, so is the cosmic mind; as is the individual soul, so is the cosmic soul.” Bards expanded microcosmic observations to macrocosmic proportions. The earth, like the human body, became a creature alive, a living, breathing entity, going through cycles of life and death, periods of activity and dormancy. Samsara came into being when the cosmic man embraced the cosmic woman:
After the cosmic cataclysm known as pralaya, all that existed dissolved into the ocean. Nothing existed, neither form nor identity. On the waters that stretched into infinity slept Vishnu in the coils of the serpent of time. At the appointed hour, a lotus rose from his navel and bloomed. Within sat Brahma in serene meditation. Brahma opened his eyes and set about creating the world. He molded sons out of his thoughts. “Go forth and multiply,” he told these mind-born sons. But they were passionless seers and could not reproduce. Brahma pondered over the problem and frowned. From his furrowed brow rose Shiva in the form of an androgyne—his right half was male while his left half was female. Inspired by the vision, Brahma split his body and, from the left half, created woman. Her name was Shatarupa. She aroused passion in the hearts of the assembled men. In her body Brahma created offspring who went on to populate the cosmos.
Vishnu Purana, Shiva Purana
The dissolution of the cosmos into the ocean indicates entropy. Pralaya is the time when the spirit is disembodied. Cosmic intelligence is dormant. Matter is inert. Vishnu sleeps. Then at the appointed hour, cosmic intelligence is roused. The lotus blooms. Brahma, the creator-god who sits on the lotus, seeks to embody the spirit. His mind-born sons lack sexual desire and hence cannot procreate until his body-born daughter comes along and rouses passion.
The association of man with the head, hence rationality, intelligence, and consciousness, and woman with the body, hence intuition, emotion, and carnality, is obvious. Like the ocean, the woman is passive. Like a flower, she is enchanting. When Brahma is enchanted, the seed of life is sown and life renewed. Her opinion is not sought. She is the object; he is the subject. She is scenery; he is the seer. She is the primal manifestation. He is the primal cause.
Vishnu, symbolizing spirit, with his consort Laxmi, symbolizing matter. Wall carving; Khajuraho temple, Madhya Pradesh. Twelfth century.
The mind-born sons of Brahma are the sapta rishis or the seven cosmic keepers of cosmic intelligence. They are also known as prajapatis, lords of progeny, when they use this intelligence to animate matter. The name of Brahma’s daughter—Shatarupa, “she-with-many-forms”—indicates that she is the material principle with infinite capacity to transform into any shape or form, depending on information coming from the seers. The theme of spirit-man uniting with matter-woman to create life is elaborated in another story in which Shatarupa multiplies herself into thirteen wives of Kashyapa, a manifestation of Brahma himself:
The mind-born Kashyapa placed his seed in the wombs of his thirteen wives. In due course the women gave birth to different creatures who populate the cosmos. On Aditi, Kashyapa fathered the divine adityas, on Diti and Danu, the demonic daityas and danavas. On Kadru, he fathered creatures that crawl like the nagas; on Vinata, creatures that fly; on Timi, creatures that swim. On Sarameya, he fathered dogs and wild animals; on Surabhi, cows and tame animals; on Krodhavasa, wild forest spirits such as rakshasas, yakshas, and pisachas. On Anala, he fathered plants; on Muni, the water-nymphs, apsaras; on Aristha, the flower-gods, gandharvas. Kashyapa was also father of Manu, the ancestor of mankind. In effect Kashyapa fathered all living creatures. He is therefore known as Prajapati, lord of progeny.
Bhagvata Purana,
Linga Purana, Kurma Purana
Kashyapa is the mind-born son of Marichi, who is the mind-born son of Brahma. He is not pure passionless spirit; he is spirit that desires embodiment. Until he plants his seed in the thirteen women, nothing happens. When he does plant his seed, thirteen different wombs transform seed from the same source into thirteen different beings. The individuation and differentiation occurs in the wombs. The story successfully captures the essential Hindu philosophy that Nature’s variety is merely a material mirage. The wise are not fooled by the apparent differences. They look through cosmic plurality and discover within all creatures the singular divine spirit—the seed of Prajapati.
As bards traveled over hills and across plains, they packaged the Hindu worldview into colorful plots and brought the philosophy of the seer to the common man. But liberties were taken as abstract ideas were concretized and limited by form. Gender was attributed to genderless concepts.
In Samkhya, the oldest school of Hindu metaphysics, the manifested dynamic world comes into being when the restless energies of prakriti acquire a direction in the presence of purusha, the spirit. Purusha is the unmanifest intelligence that inspires the dance of evolution.
Purusha is the soul of the individual—jiva-atma. Vedanta addresses the cosmic soul or paramatma as “Brahman” and defines it through negation: neti-neti, “not this, not that.” It is a transcendental nonentity—neither male nor female, seed nor soil. No form can confine it, no term can describe it. Matter, on the other hand, can be confined by time and space, and can be described variously. Prakriti manifests into both male and female forms. From it come both seed and soil. It is defined through affirmation: iti-iti, “this too, that too.”
Prakriti throbs with life-bestowing energy or rasa and hence is shakti, the source of power. It is also restless and mercurial, hence maya, or the stuff of mirage. Brahman, on the other hand, is unchanging and absolute, hence real.
In the colloquial Hindu vocabulary the word purusha means “man” while prakriti means “Nature.” The words shakti and maya are also expressed in feminine terms. On the tongues of bards the unseen transcendental principle was given a masculine attribute, while the natural world—the world of colors and contours—came to be given a female attribute. A paradigm was created that prejudiced attitudes toward femininity forever. The association of woman with passive matter that is animated and directed by the male spirit did have a profound influence on the gender politics of Hindu society. For it is but a small step from “woman symbolizes Nature” to “woman is Nature.”
The Hindu worldview, which to most Hindus is sanatana dharma, or the eternal truth, was verbalized by seers who realized it after meditating on Vedic verses that were considered too profound to be of human origin. Gender bias is evident even in Vedic verses:
Yami approached Yama with love that they might produce children. Yama turned away. “Let Yama behave toward Yami as if she were not his sister. Desire has come upon me. Let me open my body as a wife to a husband. Let us roll like the two wheels of a chariot,” she pleaded. “Seek another husband, lovely lady,” he said. “Make a pillow of your arm for some bull of man, not me. Never will I unite my body with yours. They call a man who unites with his sister a sinner. Arrange your pleasures with another, not your brother.”
Rig Veda
Yama refuses to touch Yami because she is his sister. He prefers to die childless. With no offspring in the land of the living to facilitate his rebirth, Yama finds himself trapped in the land of the dead, doomed to be the lord of the dead. Yami, without her radiant brother, transforms into Yamini, the mournful lady of the night. In death Yami does not travel to the land of the dead; she remains part of Nature. Yama and others like him in the land of the dead who await rebirth are designated pitris, or fathers. Associating spirit with masculinity and Nature with femininity seems like a practice more ancient than human memory.
In some verses of the Rig Veda sky and earth are personified as two goddesses who kiss along the horizon and generate space by their embrace. In this space, on their lap, rides their son, the sun-god, bestowing light, life, and order. Seers invoke the twin goddesses, the mothers, to hold all creatures within samsara and protect them from the dark, shapeless abyss—the realm of death.
The idea of twin goddesses in embrace has led to speculation along the lines of lesbianism among some scholars. The speculation has led to violent debates as to whether homosexual affection is natural or cultural, a universal truism or a Western import.
Some scholars believe that in original hymns natural forces were attributed a neuter gender, and that with the rise of patriarchy divisions appeared to suit patriarchal aspirations: the submissive female below and the dominating male above.
The idea that the male principle is the activating force of the cosmos is widespread in the Vedas. Indra, the sky-god, is described as a great warrior who hurls his thunderbolt against dark clouds and releases waters to help the earth mother bring forth vegetation. The sun is also described as a bull whose virility, transmitted through rays of light, brings forth life. The moon-god’s virility, or soma, seeps through vegetation and enlivens all things. In other passages the sky is seen as the father who sheds his seed as rain, enabling the earth mother to realize her fertile powers. The resulting life is described as rich with butter, sweet with honey, pounding with rasa.
Women in amorous embrace. Wall carving; Khajuraho temple, Madhya Pradesh. Twelfth century.
Yama is mortified by the idea of incest and prefers an eternity in the land of the dead to breaking a moral code. Nature has no moral codes—the womb accepts the semen of father, brother, lover, and rapist. Yami’s request to Yama to override intellectual values with biological urges could be seen as yet another attempt to identify women with Nature. “She is more in touch with primal instincts; he is more rational.” A modern prejudice with ancient roots.
The idea of primal incest is, however, unavoidable in any creation story. Limited by contemporary values and vocabulary, bards often cringe with embarrassment as they narrate the tale of the one who appeared first in the cycle of life and the one who came second. The second is offspring if born of the first. The second is sibling if born with the first. Either way it is incest. Sacred lore of Indian tribes is full of stories of the first ancestor, who was forced to make his sister his wife because there is no one else around he could make babies with:
Mahadeo created man and woman but they lived separately. So Mahadeo took the form of ants, scorpions, and snakes and scared the woman to take refuge in the arms of the man. Though together, the first man and the first woman did not know how to make love; so Mahadeo taught them the art of tickling, which aroused passion and enabled them to have intercourse.
Tribal lore from the state of Orissa
Human values come second to Nature’s demand. In the Rig Veda the goddess of dawn, called Ushas, recoils in horror because she is penetrated by her father, but nevertheless gives in for the sake of natural order. She is praised for this. In the Brahmanas, ritual manuals based on Vedic hymns, Prajapati takes up the role of creation and Rudra punishes him for his incestuous desire. While the act is condemned, the fruit of incest is not:
Prajapati created sons by the power of his mind. But these could not multiply. So he created the woman Sandhya, who was dawn itself. She was so beautiful that Prajapati, overwhelmed with desire, tried to embrace her. Sandhya ran to the sky. Prajapati followed her. “The father is doing what is not to be done,” cried Brahma’s sons. They called upon Rudra, the howler, to punish their father. He shot an arrow and injured Prajapati, whose seed fell to form a lake. “Let the seed not be wasted,” said his sons. Out of it came the animals.
Aitareya Brahmana
In the Puranas—texts that play an immediate role in modern Hinduism, as compared with the Vedas and Brahmanas—Prajapati is identified with Brahma and Rudra with Shiva, the god of destruction. Brahma must have sex with his daughter, even it means he becomes unworthy of Hindu worship, with no temple or festival in his honor:
Sandhya, disgusted by her father’s deed, propitiated Shiva and asked that all newborns should be free from desire and incapable of arousing lust. Shiva cursed Brahma that there would be no temples or festivals in his honor.
Shiva Purana
Brahma is creator in the margi, or classical Hindu tradition. In the desi, or folk traditions, the creator is a goddess. She makes the decisions and must contend with the consequences of incestuous desire as she goes about creating the world:
Before there were hills, fields, and plants, there was only water. From this water came Adya, born to herself. The moment she was born, she grew to womanhood and the desire for man arose within her. In the form of a bird she sat on the lotus and laid three eggs. The first egg was spoilt. From the second came the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the encircling sea. From the third came the gods Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Adya nurtured the three gods on her bosom, and they grew up to be virile youths. Then, adorning herself with jewels and flowers, she asked the gods to unite with her. Brahma and Vishnu were horrified by the idea, for she was their mother; but Shiva agreed provided she gave him her third eye. Overwhelmed by desire, Adya gave her third eye and instantly lost her radiance and became an old woman, gaunt with wrinkled skin and shriveled breasts. The gods became powerful and set about creating, preserving, and destroying the universe. With desire went youth. The ancient goddess remained to fight and kill demons and drink their blood.
Folklore from the
state of Andhra Pradesh
This tale of Adya has led to speculations that the Indian hinterland retains a memory of the time when the cult of the mother-goddess was overtaken by male-dominated orders. One story from the ancient margi scripture probably does record the overthrow of an ancient, fertile, seed-seeking earth-goddess:
A woman with a long tongue was licking away soma, the sacred sacrificial oblation meant for the gods. The devas did not want to share the soma, the source of their divine splendor, with anyone. They had killed their half-brothers, the asuras, for much less. Deeming Dirghajihvi, the long-tongued woman, to be an ogress, the gods plotted to kill her. First they stopped all sacrifices so that no more soma was produced. Then Indra, leader of the devas, tried to grab her. He failed. So he recruited the handsome Sumitra to seduce and overpower her. “Women like to flirt with a good-looking man,” Indra said. Sumitra, however, failed in his mission. Dirghajihvi’s body was covered with vaginas, and Sumitra’s single penis could not satisfy her. Indra then caused Sumitra to sprout several penises all over his body and sent him back to Dirghjihvi. This time Sumitra succeeded. He mounted Dirghajihvi and, having entered her, refused to leave. “Let go,” she cried, “I thought you were a good friend.” “I am a good friend to good friends and a bad friend to bad friends,” replied Sumitra, pinning Dirghajihvi down. He then summoned Indra, who hurled his thunderbolt and killed Dirghajihvi.
Jaiminiya Brahmana
The truth may never be known. As one ponders over who came first, man or woman, and wonders who is the creator and who the creation, one must cast one’s eyes on a rather interesting line from the Rig Veda: “From Aditi, the unfettered mother, was born Daksha, the dextrous father. From Daksha, the dextrous father, was born Aditi, the unfettered mother.”
Though Vedic ideas dominate Hindu thought, Hinduism is an amalgam of many diverse ideas, from Vedantic speculation to Yogic mysticism, Tantrik alchemy to Brahmanical ritualism. In addition, Hinduism embraced, imbibed, and enriched itself with innumerable folk beliefs and tribal customs. These percolated into Vedic society over several centuries, giving rise to modern-day Hinduism.
In Vedic rituals known as yagnas seers sought to empower celestial beings with oblations and chants in the hope that they would maintain a steady flow of life-bestowing rasa into human society. With the passage of time, these elaborate ceremonies no longer satisfied the spiritual needs of society. Some turned to monastic orders such as Buddhism and Jainism. Others turned to mystical practices such as yoga. Many turned to theism and ecstatic devotion known as bhakti. Through rites of adoration known as pujas, devotees sought to propitiate almighty beings who were held responsible for the cycle of life.
Some personified the supreme divine principle as Shiva, the world-rejecting ascetic, while others personified it as Vishnu, the world-appreciating warrior, especially in the most charming of his incarnations—Krishna.
Shiva and Vishnu, the two pillars of Hindu theism, were not worshipped in isolation. Each had a consort: Shiva had Shakti; Vishnu had Laxmi. It was believed that the gods were powerless without their consorts. They were shaktis, fountainheads of power and radiance. Only in the womb of the goddesses could the gods manifest themselves.
For devotees of Shiva, the manhood, or lingam, of the god contains the seed of cosmic consciousness, while the womb, or yoni, of the goddess is the space-time vessel of all energies. The world exists so long as the two are united. Separation means cosmic dissolution:
The sages were angry to find Shiva wandering through their hermitage, naked with penis erect. So they castrated him. Shiva’s penis then turned into a fiery missile and moved in every direction, threatening to destroy the three worlds. The sages propitiated Brahma, who told them that unless Shiva’s lingam was brought to rest it would destroy the cosmos. So the sages invoked Shakti, who offered her womb to capture and contain Shiva’s lingam. Within Shakti’s yoni the fearsome energy of Shiva’s lingam was dissipated. Thus the union of Shiva and Shakti saved the world from destruction. The image of Shiva’s lingam locked in Shakti’s yoni is therefore revered by all.
Shiva Purana
The name Shiva means “purity.” As pure consciousness, Shiva is untainted by all obligations, actions, and forms. In the above story Shiva is unconcerned about the loss of his manhood. He seems almost indifferent to the resulting chaos. Shiva’s reluctance to marry is a consistent theme in Shaiva lore. In effect he opposes the birth of the cosmos, preferring the blissful state in which matter is in a state of entropy and the spirit is free of form. Not surprisingly, he is called the god of destruction.
Vishnu is the god who sustains and maintains what Brahma creates and what Shiva seeks to destroy. He is also pure consciousness. His name means “pervader.” Vishnu pervades and enlivens all things. For devotees of Vishnu, Vishnu’s blue color indicates that he is as pervasive and intangible as the sky, while his consort Laxmi’s red sari represents earth’s all-containing fertility. He is the protector; she is the provider:
The earth-goddess Bhudevi, who is Laxmi, floated on the sea, lapped by the waves, warmed by the sun, moistened by rain. One day the demon Hiranyaksha dragged Bhudevi under the sea. As she cried for help, Vishnu took the form of a wild boar, plunged into the sea, gored Hiranyaksha to death, and saved the earth-goddess. As they rose to the surface, Vishnu embraced Bhudevi passionately. Thus hills and valleys came into being. He plunged his virile tusks into the soil and impregnated the earth-goddess with seed. Thus plants and trees were born. Bhudevi accepted Vishnu as her guardian and named him Bhupati, lord of the earth. As the blue sky, Vishnu promised to watch over her at all times.
Bhagvata Purana
Vishnu, in the form of a boar, lifting the earth-goddess from the bottom of the sea. Stone carving from the queen’s stepwell of Patan, Gujarat. Eleventh century.
In popular versions of sacred Hindu lore a male trinity rotates the wheel of life. Brahma creates. Vishnu sustains. Shiva destroys. To create, Brahma needs information that comes from Sarasvati, goddess of knowledge, his consort. To sustain, Vishnu needs wherewithal, which is provided by his consort Laxmi, goddess of wealth and power. Shiva becomes the destroyer, acquiring strength and inspiration from his consort Shakti, who is both Gauri, radiant goddess of eroticism, and Kali, dark goddess of extermination. The gods are deciding and doing; the goddesses simply are. Sarasvati personifies Nature’s wisdom. Laxmi personifies Nature’s bounty. Shakti personifies Nature’s power to spontaneously and simultaneously bring forth and consume life. The goddesses passively make up the wheel of existence that the gods react to and actively rotate.
Matter and soul, like woman and man, complement each other. He is the potter, she is clay. The pot of life needs both. Hindu bards have imaginatively captured this interdependence by presenting the two realities as two halves of one body:
The sage Bhringi wanted to circumambulate Shiva. The goddess Parvati stopped him. “You must go around both of us because he is incomplete without me.” But the sage refused to go around her. So Parvati embraced her lord and made it impossible for Bhringi to go around Shiva alone. Determined to salute only Shiva, Bhringi decided to take the form of a bee and fly around Shiva’s topknot. To thwart his plans, Parvati fused her body with Shiva so that they became two halves of a singular being—she formed the left half, he the right. Bhringi then decided to take the form of a worm, bore a path between the two halves of the divine androgyne, and go only around the right half. Enraged by Bhringi’s persistence, the goddess caused the sage’s two legs to become so weak that he could not stand or move. Bhringi begged for mercy. Only when he agreed to go around both the god and the goddess was he given a third leg that enabled him to stand and hobble around the divine couple.
Ardhanari, the god Shiva whose left half is feminine. Patta painting, folk style from Orissa. Twentieth century.
By attempting to ignore the goddess who is energy, Bhringi loses the power to move. Without her, even Shiva is but a corpse, a shava.
Parvati makes up the left half of the androgyne. Shatarupa emerges from the left half of Brahma. The association of femininity with the left half is so strong in Hindu beliefs that woman is described as vamangi, “beautiful-one-on-the-left.” Fertility cults that give women prominence, such as Tantra, are designated vamachari, “left-handed paths.” In Hindu ceremonies a woman always sits to the left of the husband. In temples the idol of the goddess is always placed to the left of the god. Why left? There are no clear answers. In this context one comes across a rather interesting story in the epic Mahabharata:
Ganga, the river-goddess, saw Pratipa, king of Hastinapur, meditating on the banks of the river. She went and sat on his lap and asked him to marry her. The king refused, as he had renounced the world. When Ganga persisted, Pratipa said, “Had you sat on my left thigh, I would have considered you my wife. You sat on my right thigh, which is reserved for daughters. So go and marry my son Shantanu, for I can look upon you only as my daughter-in-law.”
Mahabharata
It could be that with the wife on the left side, the right hand was free for the warrior to wield his sword and the priest to offer oblations. It also could be that the left side of the body is where the heart is located—and since the heart is the seat of all emotions and instincts, that is where Mother Nature was placed. Or the ancients may have placed man on the right because they knew that the right half of the body is controlled by the left brain, which modern science confirms is the seat of logic. It must also be noted that the left half is considered impure and inauspicious in Hinduism. Gifts are never offered with or received in the left hand. Food is never picked up with the left hand. The left hand is reserved to clean the body after ablutions. One can only wonder what this says about the Hindu attitude toward womanhood.
