The Orphan by the Lake

The fall of Vidarbha

Satyaratha, king of Vidarbha, was a righteous, truthful man and a lover of Śiva's devotees, and for many years he ruled in peace. Then the warriors of the Śālva clan besieged his city. In a terrible battle, as fate would have it, the king was killed; his soldiers and ministers fled.

His queen was carrying his child. At night, surrounded by enemies, she slipped out of the city and walked east, far into the dark, thinking only of Śiva's feet. At dawn she came to a clear lake and sat to rest in the shade of a tree — and there, at an auspicious hour, she gave birth to a son bearing every good sign.

Parched with thirst, she stepped down into the lake to drink. A crocodile seized her. The newborn lay alone on the bank, hungry and crying, with neither father nor mother.

The widow

Śiva, who is within all and protects all, was moved by that crying. Guided by him without knowing it, a poor brahmin widow who lived by begging came that way — carrying her own year-old son.

She stared at the baby. His cord was not even cut, and there was no one anywhere. How strong fate is! she thought. I would raise him as my own. But I do not know his family or his birth — I do not dare even to touch him.

The beggar

At that moment Śiva took the form of a beggar and walked up to her. He laughed gently: do not doubt, do not grieve. Protect this pure child as your own son. Before long he will bring you great good.

I will, said the widow. But tell me truly — who is he, whose son is he, and who are you? Again and again I feel that you are Śiva himself, and that this child was your devotee in a past life, and has fallen into this state through some old fault. I lost my way and came here — you must have sent me.

So the beggar told her: the child's father was Satyaratha of Vidarbha, killed by the Śālvas; his mother fled here at night, gave birth at dawn, and was taken by a crocodile.

Why

But why? asked the widow. Why should so good a king die at the hands of such petty enemies? Why should his mother be taken? Why is my own son poor, a beggar's son? How can these two boys ever be happy?

The beggar told her. In a former life this king had ruled the Pāṇḍya country. One day, fasting, he was worshipping Śiva at pradoṣa — the twilight of the thirteenth day of the lunar fortnight — when a great noise rose in the city. Fearing an attack, he abandoned the worship half-done and rushed out. His minister was bringing him a rebellious vassal; in a blind rage, without a thought for right or wrong, the king had the man beheaded. Then, without finishing the worship, he ate his meal that night. For that broken worship he was cut down in this life, in the midst of his happiness. His son was his son then too, and for the same reason has been born with nothing. His mother, in her former life, had her rival wife killed by a trick — and so the crocodile took her.

And your son, he said, was a brahmin who performed no sacrifices and spent his life only accepting gifts — so he is poor. Take both boys to Śiva. Once they have received the sacred thread, worship him together, and Śiva will make all well.

Then he showed her his true form. She bowed and praised him, and before her eyes he vanished.

The pot in the river

The widow went home to the village of Ekacakrā and raised the two boys as brothers. When they received the sacred thread, the sage Śāṇḍilya taught them to keep the Pradoṣa vow and worship Śiva at twilight, and they did so faithfully.

One day the prince went to bathe in the river alone and found a pot full of treasure. They kept worshipping, and after a year, by Śiva's grace, the prince wandered into a forest glade and met a gandharva maiden — whose father gave her to him in marriage. With his help the young prince, named Dharmagupta, “protected by dharma”, won back his kingdom and ruled without an enemy. The widow who had raised him became the queen mother, and her son was his brother.