This year, Shravan, the holiest Indian month, is being celebrated from July 4 to August 31. It is eight weeks long instead of the usual four, to accommodate the ‘extra month’ or Adhik Maas. This extra month is periodically added to the Indian lunar calendar, which has 354 days, to synchronise it with the solar calendar, which has 365 days. I am also told that Adhik Maas is added after every 32 months, 16 days and eight ‘ghadis’, a ghadi being a unit of 24 minutes. A long Shravan is reportedly happening after nearly 20 years. Shravan, also called Sawan, is sacred to Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Believers fast on Mondays for Shiva and dedicate Tuesdays to Parvati. Today is the first Shravan Somvar or Shravan Monday, and many people across India will fast today.
Some touching stories about Shiva and Parvati come back to mind in Shravan. One goes that three gems came up from the churning of the Ocean of Milk. The ruby-red Kaustubha went of its own accord to Vishnu to adorn his chest. The glittering Chintamani, a wish-fulfiller with sparks of fire in it, was pocketed by Indra, securing his wealth for good. But the elegant, pale-yellow Chudamani had its own poignant adventures. Among others, one story goes that Vishnu presented the Chudamani to Shiva to wear as a crest jewel. Shiva thanked Vishnu but since he did not wear finery, he handed it to Parvati who clipped it gaily in her hair. We normally associate the Chudamani with Sita, not Parvati, so how did it become Sita’s?
Once, goes a tale, when Parvati flew above the earth, a strong breeze blew her hair about. The Chudamani in her hair was loosened and fell to earth. Parvati looked down to see where it had fallen. She saw that it had landed in the garden of King Janaka of Videha and that a little girl had picked it up and was playing with it. That little girl was Sita. Parvati laughed when she saw who it was—Mahalakshmi herself in her avatar as Sita—and flew on, thinking, “Let her keep it.” Shiva did not mind in the least because he was not bothered about material possessions.
As it turned out later, when it was time for Rama, Sita and Lakshmana to go into exile, Kaikeyi took away their fine clothes and gave them chira valkala to wear instead, the tree bark dresses worn by ascetics. But she could not touch the jewellery that Sita had brought from her father’s home, including the Chudamani that Sita would one day give Hanuman to take to Rama. Nor could Kaikeyi take away Rama’s ring, the one that he sent to Sita with Hanuman, because it was King Janaka’s gift to him, presented by Videha, not Ayodhya.
Meanwhile, Shiva’s merciful nature went even beyond saving the world by drinking the Kalakuta, the lethal poison that emerged from the Ocean of Milk.
Parvati stopped the poison at Shiva’s neck, which turned his throat blue, giving him the name ‘Neelkanth’ or Blue Throat. But the vish purush or spirit of Kalakuta sprang out from Shiva’s neck and fell at his feet, crying in shame at the ‘Swami Droham’ or act against God that he had involuntarily committed by burning Shiva’s throat blue. He wept in despair about the ferocity of his substance.
So Shiva, who cared nothing for himself but gave things away to others, blessed the vish purush with a boon, for it was not Kalakuta’s fault that it was so deadly. It had lain quietly inactive at the bottom of the sea, minding its own business and not getting in anybody’s way. It grew fierce only when messed with by the churning. So Kalakuta could not help being part of Nature’s laws and neither could the vish purush help being Kalakuta’s inner spirit person.
Lord Shiva granted the vish purush the boon that he would return to Nature one day by being born as the son of Drona. So the vish purush was born as Ashvatthama, supposedly in a cave in Uttarakhand, and only Krishna was able to fend him off. Ashvatthama is said to still wander the earth incognito and take note when we stir up world-destroying poisons ourselves—like nuclear energy and the Wuhan virus, I imagine. It is such a shame that Ashvatthama wasted his human birth as a fawning courtier of Duryodhana and killed sleeping opponents.
As for Parvati, she stretched her limits whole-heartedly in human form when initially rejected by Shiva, for she was not a quitter. “I have to marry Shiva for the well-being of the world, so I will,” she told herself sternly. “He likes austerity, does he? I’ll show him austerity.”
Overcoming her parents’ objections, Parvati cast away her royal robes and put on chira valkala. She stood in the waters of a lonely pond in the forest, meditating all day on Shiva. She was indifferent to heat, rain and cold and to insects and wild animals. Her skin grew deeply tanned and her face, shoulders and arms grew painfully sunburned. Her long, lustrous hair grew matted like Shiva’s, her body shrank and her delicate ribs stuck out as she gradually stopped eating. “Aparna!” exclaimed the shocked sages who passed by, “She doesn’t eat even a leaf”, while her mother, Mena, cried “Ooh, ma!” which is “Oh, don’t!” in Sanskrit. The stoic princess thereby acquired the names Aparna and Uma.
The horrified devas, who had begged the Parashakti in the first place to become Parvati and marry Shiva, watched helplessly as Parvati grew thinner and thinner. “We’re sorry we did this to you, Mother,” they wept in remorse, “Why won’t Shiva listen?”
We know that he did eventually, and their wedding, according to Indian tradition, was the world’s first big party with everyone present from heaven, earth and the netherworld. And so, this Shravan, we carry on gratefully celebrating the hardworking gods.
Renuka Narayanan