âThere are islands of sand in the water. Where shall we cross the river?â
But Viswamitra was already striding off in another direction. âSince the beginning, rishis have walked this way. We will follow their path.â
So they marched north after the tall sage. The princes kept up with him easily, but some of the other hermits struggled. They lagged with rueful smiles and Viswamitra never turned to look back, as if he was content to have only those who could keep his pace arrive in Mithila. Rama and Lakshmana helped the others on the long way, carrying their spare-enough bundles for them, lending them an arm of support.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
It was midday when they arrived on the banks of the Ganga. She lay before them like an inland sea; shading their eyes, they could barely discern her far shore. Swans and lotuses floated upon her in equal profusion, and so deep was her attraction they decided to spend the rest of the day beside her murmuring currents.
They bathed in her water and sat beside her, some dozing, others staring out across the enchanted flow; and they saw luminous daydreams, as they had not even during their dhyana in the mountains. Surely, she was awesome, she was magical, and her nearness made the body feel so light it seemed the soul could soar out and be free. In the late afternoon, the desire took the princes and the rishis alike and they waded once more into the calm, warm water. When they had bathed they felt cleansed: not just bodily but in spirit.
As the day was dying, they sat around Viswamitra. While a small fire they lit blazed up full of sparks, Rama said, âI want to hear the legend of Ganga from you. I can feel her enchantment upon me; tell us how she is tripathaga, the river of three paths.â
Viswamitraâs eyes were full of times that were no longer in the world, except as shadows upon the earth and the wide water. He gazed across the great river, and began quietly, âThere is a mountain called Himavan, the Emperor of all mountains. That ancient spirit, who is not younger than the earth herself, had two daughters by his wife Mena. They were called Ganga and Uma, and their beauty was legend.
âGanga was the older one, and Indraâs Devas approached Himavan: they wanted his daughter for themselves, to make Devaloka more perfect than it already was. Himavan gave Ganga to the Devas; she flowed in heaven as a river of light and purified anything she touched. She flowed through the galaxies as Akasa Ganga, Mandakini, river of the firmament, with suns in her hair.
âHimavanâs second child was called Parvati, mountain daughter. She sat in tapasya and won Siva for her husband. Their son was Karttikeya and he killed Tarakasura, the invincible demon of old.
âLater, there was an ancestor of yours, Rama, in the line of Ikshvaku, named Sagara. For many years Sagara had no children from his two wives: Vidarbhaâs daughter Kesini, and Kashyapaâs daughter, the ravishing Sumati. Sagara went to the Himalaya with his queens and sat in penance for a hundred years. Men in those times were greater in every way than the men of today, and longer-lived as well. And men in the ages to follow this one shall live short and wretched lives. That is the nature of the yugas.
âWhen Sagara and his wives had sat in dhyana for a hundred years, the Maharishi Bhrigu came to them like a fire on the mountain, and said, âLet your tapasya be fruitful, Sagara. One of your wives will bear you a son to continue the Ikshvaku line. The other will bear you sixty thousand princes of matchless strength and courage; but they shall not be kingsâ
âSagaraâs queens were radiant.
ââWho will have sixty thousand sons?â cried Sumati, the younger.
ââWho will have the one son?â cried Kesini.
âBhrigu smiled, âThe choice is yours, and you seem to have made it already.â
âThat rishi blessed them and Sagara
But Viswamitra was already striding off in another direction. âSince the beginning, rishis have walked this way. We will follow their path.â
So they marched north after the tall sage. The princes kept up with him easily, but some of the other hermits struggled. They lagged with rueful smiles and Viswamitra never turned to look back, as if he was content to have only those who could keep his pace arrive in Mithila. Rama and Lakshmana helped the others on the long way, carrying their spare-enough bundles for them, lending them an arm of support.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
It was midday when they arrived on the banks of the Ganga. She lay before them like an inland sea; shading their eyes, they could barely discern her far shore. Swans and lotuses floated upon her in equal profusion, and so deep was her attraction they decided to spend the rest of the day beside her murmuring currents.
They bathed in her water and sat beside her, some dozing, others staring out across the enchanted flow; and they saw luminous daydreams, as they had not even during their dhyana in the mountains. Surely, she was awesome, she was magical, and her nearness made the body feel so light it seemed the soul could soar out and be free. In the late afternoon, the desire took the princes and the rishis alike and they waded once more into the calm, warm water. When they had bathed they felt cleansed: not just bodily but in spirit.
As the day was dying, they sat around Viswamitra. While a small fire they lit blazed up full of sparks, Rama said, âI want to hear the legend of Ganga from you. I can feel her enchantment upon me; tell us how she is tripathaga, the river of three paths.â
Viswamitraâs eyes were full of times that were no longer in the world, except as shadows upon the earth and the wide water. He gazed across the great river, and began quietly, âThere is a mountain called Himavan, the Emperor of all mountains. That ancient spirit, who is not younger than the earth herself, had two daughters by his wife Mena. They were called Ganga and Uma, and their beauty was legend.
âGanga was the older one, and Indraâs Devas approached Himavan: they wanted his daughter for themselves, to make Devaloka more perfect than it already was. Himavan gave Ganga to the Devas; she flowed in heaven as a river of light and purified anything she touched. She flowed through the galaxies as Akasa Ganga, Mandakini, river of the firmament, with suns in her hair.
âHimavanâs second child was called Parvati, mountain daughter. She sat in tapasya and won Siva for her husband. Their son was Karttikeya and he killed Tarakasura, the invincible demon of old.
âLater, there was an ancestor of yours, Rama, in the line of Ikshvaku, named Sagara. For many years Sagara had no children from his two wives: Vidarbhaâs daughter Kesini, and Kashyapaâs daughter, the ravishing Sumati. Sagara went to the Himalaya with his queens and sat in penance for a hundred years. Men in those times were greater in every way than the men of today, and longer-lived as well. And men in the ages to follow this one shall live short and wretched lives. That is the nature of the yugas.
âWhen Sagara and his wives had sat in dhyana for a hundred years, the Maharishi Bhrigu came to them like a fire on the mountain, and said, âLet your tapasya be fruitful, Sagara. One of your wives will bear you a son to continue the Ikshvaku line. The other will bear you sixty thousand princes of matchless strength and courage; but they shall not be kingsâ
âSagaraâs queens were radiant.
ââWho will have sixty thousand sons?â cried Sumati, the younger.
ââWho will have the one son?â cried Kesini.
âBhrigu smiled, âThe choice is yours, and you seem to have made it already.â
âThat rishi blessed them and Sagara
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