Aum Mahamayayai Namaha!

17

Aparna

Ya Devi sarvabhuteshu, daya rupena samsthita,

Namasthasyai, namasthasyai, namasthasyai namo namaha!

O Goddess who resides in all creatures in the form of compassion,

Hail to thee, hail to thee, all hail to thee!

Parvati returned home in a highly agitated frame of mind. “What is the use of physical beauty if it can’t get me the one thing I most desire? Shiva is a true yogi. Physical charms have no fascination for him. What he admires most is asceticism, so that is what I should practice if I want to marry him.”

She decided to go to the forest and practice intense austerities. At that time the sage Narada came to the palace and spoke privately to Parvati. He gave her the famous five-syllabled mantra of Shiva and told her that if she concentrated totally on that, she would surely win him over.

Parvati went to her parents to get their consent. Himavan was agreeable, but her mother could not bear to see her go. “Why don’t you meditate in the house?” she asked. “All the facilities are here, and I’ll see to it that you are left alone. U-ma.” U-ma means “don’t go”; thus Uma came to be another of Parvati’s names.

But Parvati was adamant. Discarding her fineries and ornaments, she clad herself in the bark of a tree tied at the waist with a girdle of grass. She told her maids not to accompany her and went straight to the place where she had last seen Shiva after Kama had been burnt down. It was bare and empty; the leaves had withered, and the season was no longer spring. Parvati could have wept for her lord, but she controlled herself and took her seat in the same place where Shiva had sat. She made a lingam out of mud in front of her and started her penance. Still and steady as a rock, she kept her mind fixed on the beloved form of her lord and kept repeating the mantra Narada had given her.

In the summer Parvati sat in the midst of five fires, in the monsoons she sat in the rain and did not seek shelter, and in winter she sat in the snow, inured to the icy winds that howled around her. For the first year she subsisted on fruits alone, and in the next year on leaves, thus becoming known by the name Aparna (one who subsists on leaves). Her mind was a canvas on which was painted the picture of Shiva alone. She had neither father nor mother, indeed no other life except this one. She felt as if she had been meditating all her life. Her parents came to try to persuade her to return to them, but she didn’t even notice them. The heat created by her tapas was so great that the ground under Indra’s feet began to burn. He ran to Brahma to find out the reason for this phenomenon. Brahma was equally perplexed, and they went together to Lord Vishnu, who told them the reason for the sudden rise of heat in the world. It was the power of Parvati’s tapas, and she had sworn not to stop her austerities until Shiva became her husband. So they went to Shiva and eulogized him and begged him to save them from the threat of Taraka and the heat that was being produced by Parvati’s penance. They told him that only he could save them from both dangers.

The great yogi looked at them with a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. He said, “I thought you’d be happy that Kama is out of the way and you can do your meditations without being troubled by his arrows. If I marry Parvati, Kama will have to be revived and you will be unable to perform penance!”

Vishnu now spoke: “Your beloved wife Sati has been reborn as Parvati, the daughter of the mountains, and she is performing intense tapas to procure you as her husband. Only a son born of your loins is capable of killing the demon Taraka. So for the good of the world, please accept her as your wife.”

Shiva mused to himself, “A wife is ruinous to the life of a yogi. Even the Vedas say that, but then I have always been a rule to myself. Nothing can fetter me, not even a wife. Moreover, I’m always anxious to please my devotees. How can I resist her plea when she’s undergoing such tortures for my sake? She has proved that she can be a tapasvini (female who practices austerities), fit to be the wife of a tapasvin (male who practices austerities) like me.”

He told the seven sages¹ to go to the place where Parvati was performing austerities and test her resolve. Seeing her emaciated form shining with brilliance, they bowed to her and begged her to give up her tapas. Shiva was a confirmed yogi, they said, and had declared that he would never marry.

“In that case I shall die unwed,” said Parvati, with no change in her composure. “As you know, I am the daughter of the mountain and therefore immovable. Don’t waste your time on me. It’s better for you to go back to your contemplations. The sun may rise in the west, fire may refuse to heat, but my words will never be false. I shall continue my penance until he comes to me or I shall give up my body in this very place.”

The sages were delighted with her determination and reported the matter to Shiva. Now Shiva himself decided to test her. He appeared before her in the guise of a very old sage in ascetic’s garb and told her to desist from her tapas, since Shiva would never marry her. Parvati merely smiled and said, “In which case I shall immolate myself in the fire that I have kept ready.”

Without speaking another word she lit the pyre and jumped into it, but the fire became cool and could not burn her. The old man stopped her from making another fire and listed all of Shiva’s bad qualities to her.

Parvati was furious and cried out, “Why have you come here to poison my mind with your vile accusations against my lord? Whatever Shiva is or is not, I love him and will have none other as my husband.”

She turned away in disgust and was on the point of running away when Shiva assumed his real form and caught her by the hand.

“Why are you running away from me?” he teased. “You have won me by your extreme austerities, and I am your ardent slave. Come with me to my abode in the Himalayas.”

But Parvati could not be persuaded so easily. “My lord,” she said, “I eloped with you once in my incarnation as Daksha’s daughter, and you know what happened. This time I want a proper marriage with all due rites and with the full consent of my parents. So you will have to go to them and ask for my hand if you want to marry me.”

“My sweet Parvati,” said Shiva, “this entire world in one of illusion. I stand above all prophecies and planets. But if it’s your wish to perform the marriage rites by propitiating all the planets, so be it. I can refuse you nothing. I shall approach your father and ask for your hand in the proper manner.”

Parvati returned home jubilantly and was welcomed back with great love. But as one might expect, Shiva could not conform to rules. He went to Himavan’s court in the guise of a mendicant dancer and delighted the court with his skill. Mena offered him money and jewels, which he refused.

“What is it you want then?” she asked.

“I want your daughter,” he replied.

Mena was furious and ordered that he should be chased out of the court. Parvati alone had been shown his true form, and she begged him mentally to take on a more conventional appearance. So the next time he came, Shiva took the guise of a noble Brahmin, a devotee of Vishnu with crystal beads in his hand and a saligrama (a stone with the image of Vishnu on it) around his neck. The Brahmin strongly advised Himavan against giving his daughter to Shiva. He then left the way he had come, muttering on his beads. Parvati was desperate and prayed to him to stop playing these tricks.

So Shiva commanded the seven sages once again to go to Himavan and request the hand of his daughter. Overjoyed to do his bidding, they went to Himavan and said, “Shiva is the father of the universe, and Parvati its the mother. It behooves you to give your daughter to him alone. By this gift your life will be fulfilled.”

Himavan was very happy to hear this, but Mena was stubborn in her refusal to give her tender daughter to a madman, as Shiva appeared to be. The gods then sent Arundhati, the wife of the sage Vasishta, who was noted for her wisdom and chastity, to persuade Mena to agree to the union of her daughter with Shiva. Arundhati told her, “Parvati is the great cosmic intellect, the mother of the universe. You will gain honor and glory only if you give her in marriage to Shiva.”

Hearing this, Mena was pacified and agreed to the betrothal. Preparations were immediately started for the consummation of the joyful event.

Himavan was determined that this should be the grandest occasion ever held in the world. Everyone who was anyone was invited—the gods, the sages, the rivers, the mountains, and the gandharvas (celestial musicians), apsaras (celestial dancers), and all other celestial beings. Different mansions were made for the gods, with the best one reserved for the bridegroom. On the auspicious day, all the gods went to Kailasa to accompany Shiva. They begged him to dress as befitting a bridegroom. He smiled his secret smile and complied with their request.

The crescent moon took the place of a crown, his third eye became a beautiful jewel adorning his forehead, and the serpents twined around his ears turned into earrings and the ones around his neck into necklaces and garlands. The ashes that were smeared on his body turned into sandal paste and the elephant hide into a silk garment. The ganas from all over the world flew in to accompany the bridegroom’s party. Nothing could dissuade them from coming.

Thus the members of the wedding party set out amidst the blare of trumpets, beating of drums, and blowing of conches. When they reached the outskirts of the mountain city, Himavan came out with a large retinue to meet them. He was enchanted to see the divine form of Shiva totally contrary to what he had been expecting. The lord had taken on the form of Sundaramurti, the handsome one. He was seated on the white bull of crystal purity and beauty, the very symbol of dharma.

As can be imagined, Mena was in a fever of impatience to see the man for whom her daughter had been prepared to forsake everything she held dear and spend so much time doing intense austerities. She went to the balcony and looked down on the bridegroom’s party, which was just arriving. Shiva knew of her qualms and decided to play one of his usual pranks. Mena was delighted to see the splendid procession. First came the gandharvas, the celestial musicians noted for their sartorial elegance. Heavenly nymphs waving banners of brilliant hues accompanied them. Mena thought that one of them might be Shiva but was told that they were merely his attendants. How striking he must be, she thought, if his attendants were so handsome. Then came the gods Agni, Yama, and Indra, all looking equally fantastic. When Vishnu arrived on the scene, Mena nearly fainted. She had never seen such a handsome personality before and was sure that this was Shiva, but again she was disappointed. Next came Shiva himself, accompanied by the ganas.

“Here is your daughter’s bridegroom,” someone whispered in her ears. Mena stared aghast at the motley crew of ganas that now appeared. The spirits, ghosts, and goblins came first. Some of them were in the form of violent gusts of wind, making hissing sounds; some had crooked faces and deformed bodies; some were lame and some blind; some hobbled on one leg and others carried staffs and tridents and had distorted faces.

Were these creatures Shiva’s escorts? Mena could hardly believe it.

“There is Shiva! There is the bridegroom,” the wedding guests shouted.

On seeing him, Mena trembled and nearly fainted. He had five faces and three eyes. His hair was matted and had the crescent moon on it. His body was smeared in the ashes of annihilated desire, and he had ten hands, each brandishing a gory weapon. His upper garment was an elephant’s hide, and lower a tiger’s skin. He had a wild look in his eyes and appeared to have been drinking. In fact, the whole party seemed to be intoxicated, its members rolling about in a drunken orgy and singing obscene songs. They flung skulls and bones up into the air instead of flowers.

Mena gazed at this horrifying scene for a few seconds and then mercifully fainted. As soon as she recovered she wept and cried and swore that she would certainly not give her charming daughter to such an unkempt and uncivilized creature whose sole attendants seemed to be a motley crew of fiends.

“What shall I do?” she moaned. “My life is utterly doomed and so is my daughter’s. Where are those sages who have cheated us? I shall pluck out their beards with my own hands.” Turning to her daughter, she cried, “Is this the fruit of your penance? Surely your intellect must be deranged. Setting aside cooked rice, are you bent on eating the husk?² O! What have I done to deserve such a fate?” So saying, the poor lady beat her breasts and wept uncontrollably, bewailing her lot.

Narada and the other sages came to reason with her, but Mena would not listen. Her husband came and told her that this was all the sport of Shiva, who wanted to test her. She shut her ears. Brahma came and told her that Shiva had many forms and this was all his divine lila. She was unconvinced.

Parvati asked her, “O Mother! Why has this delusion overtaken you? Please give me to Lord Shiva. I have wooed him mentally, verbally, and physically for many years. I shall wed none other.” Mena cried bitterly when she heard this.

At last Lord Vishnu approached her and spoke to her in sweet accents. “O Mena!” he said. “You are the beloved daughter of the manes, and you should be able to appreciate the greatness of Maheswara (Shiva). He is devoid of all attributes yet possesses all attributes. He is hideous as well as handsome. It is only because of your daughter’s great penance that he has agreed to marry her. Consider yourself to be fortunate that he has blessed you. O wife of Himavan! Stop your tears and accept him as your son-in-law and all will be well.”

Hearing these soothing words, Mena relented and said, “I will agree to this wedding only if he assumes a pleasing aspect. Otherwise, whatever any of you might say, I will not consent to this marriage.”

Vishnu reported the matter to Shiva, and Parvati prayed to her lord to stop playing tricks. Shiva laughingly agreed, and when the appropriate time came for the bridegroom to enter the marriage hall, Shiva strode in. Much to Mena’s surprise, his form was wondrous to behold.

He was fair and handsome and his face shone with a divine radiance. He was the personification of masculine splendor. His dark silky hair flowed to his broad shoulders. His long, lithe limbs were clad in silk, and he wore a garland of fragrant jasmine flowers. His lustrous dark eyes turned toward Mena and penetrated to the very depths of her soul. There was a glimmer of a smile on his face as he noticed Mena’s discomfiture. Mena went forward with her husband and worshipped him, offering sandal paste and whole rice grains mixed with turmeric. The wives of the sages waved ghee lamps and camphor flames in front of him and escorted him to the ceremonial stage reserved for the bridal pair.

Now the wives of the sages brought Parvati forward. Her beauty entranced all those present. Her complexion was as dark and radiant as a blue lotus. Her thick black hair was plaited and covered with flowers and jewels. Necklaces covered her breast, and bangles and bracelets her arms. Her lips, which had been colored with red lac, opened slightly to reveal her pearly teeth. Her pink feet tinkled with the sound of anklets as she walked. She carried an exquisite mirror set with gems in one hand and a lotus in the other. The intoxicating perfume of sandal paste, musk, and saffron emanated from her body. On seeing this fascinating form of the mother of the universe, all the gods stood up and bowed. She looked up for a second and met Shiva’s appreciative eyes and gave a small, secret smile.

Taking his daughter’s hand, Himavan repeated the age-old mantras of the Rig Veda and then gave her hand to Lord Shiva.

Shiva grasped the lotuslike palms of Parvati and repeated the appropriate mantras. He then placed the auspicious red mark on Parvati’s forehead. Grasping her trembling hand in his strong one, he led her thrice around the sacred fire and thus plighted their troth. Thus was the wild one tamed and made to conform to the rules of normal society.

Thinking this to be an appropriate time, Rati, the wife of Kama, came forward and begged to have her husband restored to his bodily form. Shiva smilingly agreed, and much to Rati’s delight, Kama appeared before them, looking as handsome as ever.

As was the custom, Shiva stayed for four days in the mighty mansion made for the bridal couple. He, who was used to sleeping on rocks and stones and in cremation grounds, was cajoled by Parvati to lie on silken coverlets covered with flowers. At last the festivities came to an end and Shiva returned to Kailasa, accompanied by Parvati and followed by the host of ganas.

But now the destined spot and hour were close,

Unknowing she had neared her nameless goal.

For though a dress of blind and devious chance

Is laid upon the work of all-wise fate,

Our acts interpret an omniscient force,

That dwells in the compelling stuff of things,

And nothing happens in the cosmic play,

But at its time and in its foreseen place.

—SAVITRI BY SRI AUROBINDO

Thus ends the seventeenth chapter of Shakti, known as “Aparna,” which describes the wedding of Shiva and Parvati.

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