ANDHAKA

A Legend of Lord Shiva from the Hindu Puranas

Part 1

Enjoying the sport of love with Lord Shiva
On the eastern slopes of mount Mandara,
Her hands illuminated, like coral-gold,
Parvati playfully masked her husband’s eyes.

The whole cosmos plunged into inky jet,
Black as a raven in a pool of tar.
Behind Shiva’s third eye, burned a fierce blaze,
Her sweat simmered like rutting juice, and flowed
As drops, spilling into Her open womb.
A babe was conceived by the Great Goddess—
Nine hard spent labouring months later
Alas, how tragic! what shame! a monstrous birth!
A brutish babe with greasy matted locks,
Smelling rankly of piss and cesspool drains,
Roaring, kicking, wailing, sticking out his tongue;
This demon, born in darkness, was also blind.

Parvati, stunned, asked her august Lord,
“What is this deformation I’ve created?”
Lord Shiva replied in stern stentorian terms,
“He’s our own, born from veiling my three eyes!
Our child of demonic power is blind,
Because in foolish jest you blocked my sight;
Name him Andhaka, the ‘sightless one’,
I’m his father, so rear him as our son!”
The Divine Mother nursed her deformed babe,
And told her maids, to guard him from all ill.

Time passed and a devil King called Golden Eye,
Who envied his brothers many children,
Burned and yearned for a son to call his own.
Retiring to a forest glade, he prayed
For the grace of Shiva to grant this boon.
After a year of hard austere penance,
Great God Shiva appeared to Golden Eye.
“Andhaka’s temper, alone, equals yours,
Cast off gloom! welcome him as if your son!”
Golden Eye came out of his yogic trance,
Hymned honeyed thanks to Shiva and his Queen.
But the Lord of Yogis warned the Demon King,
“Should Andhaka commit many evil deeds,
I, myself, shall be forced to purge his sins!”

Golden Eye failed to reign for long as King:
Proudly boasting of a son, he fought the Gods,
And disturbing righteous order, was slain
By none other than Vishnu the Protector.
Young Andhaka was then crowned the Demon King!

Part 2

Andhaka was mocked by youthful friends,
They played mischievous pranks and cruel games,
They tore the wings off flies, broke birds’ eggs,
And cut whiskers off roaming feral cats.
“Blind ass!” they shrieked “how can you be King?
Ignorant , arrogant, beastly blind brat,
You were never Golden Eye’s natural son,
Obey us and we might spare you more abuse!”

Shaken, Andhaka hid, deep in the woods,
For years he lived an ascetics’ life of pain;
He chanted mantras, stood on one leg,
Fasted, cut, singed and lashed his tortured flesh.
Eating wild fruits and berries from the trees.
In despair he tried to hurl his wretched frame
On a funeral pyre, a hideous death.
But Brahma, moved by pity, stayed his hand.
“Andhaka your zeal has won my help!
Choose a boon, whatever your heart desires.”
“Oh Lord, how dare I fight my cruel foes,
With shrivelled sinews of body, and blind;
Heal my broken bones and restore my sight,
Then grant me, great Creator, eternal life!”
Brahma heard his earnest plea, and replied
“There can be no staying the hand of death!
Choose another more acceptable boon,
Then I shall grant your physical requests.”
“Then who’s the purest woman in the world,
Let her be as my gracious loving mother,
I shall worship her as my highest ideal,
But destroy me if I lust after her flesh.”
“I shall surely do that” said Brahma and left.

Andhaka regained his sight, his foulness gone,
His face shone with a strange newfound beauty,
His body straightened out to fresh powers.
Assuming his right of Demon Kingship,
He formed a devilish force to take control
Of the heavenly lands. His strong army
Even put the Great God Indra to flight!
Minor deities, fearful, paid him homage.
He took a thousand beauteous Nymphs hostage,
And indulged himself in dalliance,
On the soft lush lawns of ecstasy’s verge;
He frippery frolicked in fun, fancy free,
Lost in the maddening spicy scent of musk.
At table, he pigged on beef and pork,
Fired by strong drink, greed, arrogance and pride.
He raced his chariot in the fields of heaven
Disturbing wise scholars and pious priests,
He built stables and a brazen tower.
As a self-styled Sage, he perverted rites,
Taught false doctrines, and ravaged the land,
Like a bull elephant in spring time rut.

Part 3

One day, his Chief Minister out for a ride
Spied an awesome sight, returning hot paced,
He told his King, “Oh Lord Of Demons!
Dwelling in a cave, I saw a comely Sage,
His lotus eyes were closed in deepest bliss,
A crescent moon silvered his matted hair,
Thick elephant hide adorns his hips,
Wild serpents twine round his lithesome neck,
Skulls hang as garlands on his deep blue throat.
His mighty arms wield a golden trident,
He has four powerful arms, smeared with ash.
He’s guarded by a thug with a monkey face,
Holding weapons in rough and brawny hands.
But, and this will interest you, my King,
A maid, of ravishing beauty sits near him,
Crowned with a tiara of precious gems,
This lady, fair companion of the Sage,
Is worthy of being held and seized by you!”

Andhaka, shook, quivering with lust,
He sent his Minister to ask the Sage
“Whose son are you? in heaven’s name, why here?
And who is this fair lady by your side?
My King, Andhaka says “penance with a maid,
Is forbidden, surrender her to him
You foolish sage, or you will have regrets!”

The Sage knew Andhaka was the Demon
He had sired, and smiling he replied,
In awesome, firm and well measured tones,
“I am Lord Shiva! Tell your so called King,
I’ve no memory of a Father or Mother,
I perform prolonged austerities
Outside the realm of time, a penance,
Which the universe cannot see, to regain
Mighty powers lost in the sport of love,
Tell your Demon, take and do what you like!”
Then Shiva sat, plunging into silence.
His paramour mirrored his natural peace,
Her veil illumined the tapestry of worlds.

Part 4

Blind Andhaka, had never known his father,
He’d been reared instead by Golden Eye,
He neither feared nor respected Lord Shiva,
He strongly desired to win the unknown maid,
Little suspecting she was his mother true.

Andhaka crackled like fire aflame with ghee,
Smitten by the gadfly arrow of desire;
He hot-hoofed to his palace for strong wine;
The drink inflamed his mind to mad frenzy.
He strutted like a cockerel in chase,
Passion scorched, he advanced on her cave,
Which thuggish ape Viraka guarded zealously.
He raised his sword and struck at the Demon King,
Andhaka’s sword was shattered by the agile ape,
Andhaka slunk away with broken pride.

At Shiva and Parvati’s primal home,
The silent Goddess, sat still, within her cave,
Guarded by Viraka, their simian slave,
Waiting for her inscrutable Lord’s return.
Shiva had left for the green pine forest,
Where he performed austere hard penance.
The Lord of Dance and King of Demons
Were both gamblers in life’s game of dice,
Each prized the daughter of the Mountain King.
Andakha returned, his senses spinning
Like a top, flushed with heady, vintage wine.
Puffing and preening he tossed swords, spears,
And javelins, fired arrows, threw missiles,
Rocks and discs at the ape, downing him in swoon.
The pile of weapons hurled, had blocked the cave,
In which the Goddess prayed to Brahma and Vishnu
For help in confronting this Demon King.

The Gods heard her earnest, heartfelt plea,
And transformed a thousand Sages into maids.
They entered the cave of the Mountain Queen,
Performing deeds of valour in her aid.
Thunder crashed, as if at an aeon’s end,
With pounding drums, clashing cymbals,
Conch shells roaring, the ape came to his senses,
And stood aloft in full and mighty strength,
Assisted by the god-like maidens,
They threw piles of weapons piece by piece
Back at the cruel Demon King Andhaka.
Hearing the noise of cataclysmic war
Shiva sped swiftly like a lightning flash
To protect his beloved wife and home.
On seeing the mighty Lord, Andhaka fled,
And Parvati reunited with her Sire.

Part 5

Andhaka sent a messenger to Shiva,
“Surrender your paramour to me
Lord of all Earth’s devious serpent powers,
Or I’ll dispatch you to the House of Death!”

Then that wise three eyed God of all goodness,
Destroyer of evil and hat of pride,
Auspicious in embodiment as a flame,
Wearer of snakes and skulls as his garland, said
“Fight me then, if you think you have the might,
Of what use are wives, even full of beauty,
Or wealth, even piled high as a mountain peak,
Oh poor slave of narrow sensory spectrum,
Do what deeds you are preordained to do,
I shall do what acts I must do, trust in that!”

The dreadful Demon wrestled with the God,
Hand to hand in fierce combat! Form with source,
Battled in the sand like two titan tigers,
With knees, teeth, nails, feet, arms and butting heads.
The Demon’s fists struck him, with all his might,
Yet he bled, wounded to the bone’s marrow,
Pierced to the heart by Shivaic fire,
Which penetrated, skin, cells and pores.
Shiva speared him, lifting him high in the sky
Of unending space, like a screaming child,
The vengeance of the Lord, Three Flaming Eyes,
Impaled Andhaka on his trident’s tip.
With a bestial groan like birth begetting,
The vital force within him, soon poured out,
He knew Shiva, was his real Father, the One.

The refuge of the Age, measureless Shiva,
Pranced a wild and whirling dance of triumph,
He waved Andhaka, staked, aloft on high,
Now scorched by sun’s rays to whitened ash,
Then drenched by torrential monsoon rain,
‘Till touched at last by shafts of gentle grace,
He became Realised in the Self as One.
In pristine purity, Andhaka sang,
A paean of divine praise, to the Holy One.

Part 6

Great Lord Shiva, all compassion, Three Eyed
For inward seeing, in my heart abide.

You entered my jet black demonic force

To transfigure, ravishing me at source.

You’re Lord of all energies, the noble King
Transforming them to dance, to make them sing.

Destroyer of Kama, imp of greedy lust,
With one glance from your third eye I shall trust.

They call you the awesome One, to instil
A trembling in the heart, I obey your will.

You fill my soul with awe as name of God,
You’re above the mind, a mountain range untrod.

Assuming all the forms of worlds at will,
To teach devotees ‘That’ which alone stands still.

Your dance, as Natarajan is heroic,
Engendering virtues both brave and stoic.

Your dance, with one stamp, is world destroying,
You brought me back to Self, all enjoying.

Destroyer of demons and wilful devils
Pounding rock ego to dusty levels.

Your body with purest white ash is smeared
For a dish of egos, well cooked and seared.

Dark One, terror to all those whom you deny,
But freed by the sacred quest of ‘Who Am I?’

Death, in the well of life, where is your sting?
Deep in our Being lies Self awakening.

Your cosmic dance, in the cremation ground,
Frees through blazing fire of Aum’s holy Sound.

You sport matted hair, a beggars disguise,
Through which Ganga flows, speech of the wise.

Mighty Yogin, your strength of stalwart oak,
Is the teaching of |God, vile ego to yoke.

The hero’s ever patient, to receive;
Facing boldly, all that happens, by your leave.

Self hidden within, is the wish to be free,
‘Who Am I?’ is the key to liberty.

Purusha, within the core, Being Supreme,
My heart’s wish to waken, from life’s long dream.

Support of the soul, with all her treasure,
Substratum, amethyst root of nature.

Within all which penetrates the mind of man,
Grace revealed, is your prime, predestined plan .

Bestower of riches in all three worlds,
Endless diversity, your mercy unfolds.

Garlanded with secret serpent power,
Kundalini raise, sustain and flower.

You’re the consumer, dear majestic Lord.
Of flesh-bound egos, by your sweet accord.

Performer of the secret rituals of Love,
Tuned to Tantra, by bridal marriage above.

Your sustained, controlled emanation,
Retains the seeds of God intoxication.

Clad in the noble elephantine hide,
In strength and power, eternally abide.

You’re the wild madness for Existence,
Consciousness, bliss and their quintessence.

You’re generous lender of divine support
For the failing devotee, his shield and fort.

The spirit boundless of Para-Atman
At-One-Ment, whole in both God and man.

Partaker in frail mortal human frame
To savour, in your divine eternal game.

As wielder of the great cosmic power,
In bliss you sip eternity’s flower.

Hidden amongst rushes, you lay unborn,
Effulgent as sunlight before red dawn.

Moon crested One, reflecting godlike Grace,
For all to see and know your shining face.

From your cosmic stance of silent plenitude
Streams forth destiny, love and magnitude.

You are the truly perfect, purest One,
Above, within, beyond the blazing Sun!”

Part 7

Obtaining perfect knowledge of the Self,
The being called Andhaka, gained release,
And in Shiva’s hand took wing, then blest;
Your love and praise has pleased me Demon King!
With Bull Nandi, you shall command my hosts.
All misery and doubts are now dispelled,
Like rags and tatters lost in boundless sky!

Parvati received with love and gentle grace,
Her tender child, now through wisdom reborn.
He fell to the ground and blessed her lotus feet,
Was raised and welcomed to her bounteous breast.
He drank the limitless light to fill his sight,
And sang one song from which all ragas flow,
Eternal love, to Shiva’s dance sublime.

In the family of the Lord of Yogis,
Andhaka became a learned Rishi,
All creatures through him may be clairvoyant,
He clears the perils on the pilgrim’s path,
.
So demonic force, blind son of creation,
Regaining his father and mother’s bliss,
Transformed ny nectar streams of healing grace,
In service consecrated to Lord Shiva,
As his devotee Rishi