Continuing their pilgrimage, the Pandavas arrive at the river Koushiki, somewhere in the kingdom of Anga. As expected, the sage Lomasha explains the origin story of the tirtha at the river’s banks. His narrative takes us to ancient times, and once again a story involving a complex interplay of divine, royal and priestly powers is provided to us.
Though this story is interesting in many ways, especially as we see how priestly celibacy can be a hollow thing if the person is question isn’t aware of the temptation that he is reneging, it isn’t quite clear as to how the conflict and the denouement might be applicable to the Pandavas’ current situation. At times, there is an Arabian Nights sort of quality to the Mahabharata in the Tirtha parva, in the way that a simple repeatable trope has opened the door to some pure storytelling.
So, here is what happens: A sage named Vibhandak engages in extreme austerities in a great lake The apsara Urvashi walks by, and in his excitement Vibhandaka spills his semen in the lake. A thirsty doe drinks water from the same lake. From that doe is born a son, the great rishi Rishyashringa, who has — for concerns of verisimilitude, perhaps — a tiny little horn on his head. If such a birth appears too fabulous, let me remind the reader that this is not the first time that such a thing has happened in the Mahabharata. For example, the Pandavas’ great-grandmother, Satyavati, was born from a fish. From his father, Rishyashringa inherits a will power for austerities and gets an environment of seclusion during his growing up years.
Owing to the first, he acquires powers to be able to summon Indra and make rainfall occur anywhere he wishes to. Owing to the second, he remains a sort of un-sexualised being. The plot thickens as we learn that the kingdom of Anga is experiencing a drought. King Lomapada’s apathy towards brahmins is the supposed reason. At any rate, he comes to know that the only way to end the drought is Rishyashringa, and that the young man has never seen a woman in his life. Lomapada then summons his best courtesan and sends her on the mission of seducing Rishyashringa and bringing him to his court.
Rishyashringa’s body begins to burn with desire on seeing the courtesan. Though in retelling the encounter to his father he calls the courtesan a unique kind of ‘man’. Unaware of sexes and sexuality, yet charged with lust, Rishyashringa’s descriptions of what he noticed as key differences in the body of ‘that man’ make for interesting reading.
Vibhandak has by now become an old misogynist, so he doesn’t tell Rishyashringa anything more than that ‘that man’ is in fact a rakshasha. But the ‘rakshasha’ returns the next day, and Rishyashringa, again burning with desire, leaves his father’s house to follow the courtesan. Eventually, the king Lomapada gets Rishyashringa to cause the rainfall and weds his daughter, Shanta, to him.
Tanuj Solanki
@tanujsolanki
The writer is reading the unabridged Mahabharata