Nārada and the Monkey Face

The cave by the Gaṅgā

Nārada, Brahmā's son, once went to a beautiful cave in the Himālaya, beside which the Gaṅgā rushed past, and sat there in silent samādhi for a long time, breath held, absorbed in the knowledge “I am Brahman”.

Indra trembled. He wants my kingdom, he thought. He called Kāma, the god of desire: you have broken the pride of many ascetics for me — go and disturb Nārada. Kāma went with Spring and worked every art he had. Nothing happened. Nārada's mind did not stir.

The reason, the Purāṇa says, was not Nārada at all. That very place was where Śiva himself had once sat in tapas and burnt Kāma to ash; and when Kāma was restored to life, Śiva had declared that his arrows would have no power there. Kāma went back to Indra and reported the sage's greatness. Indra praised Nārada to the skies.

Pride

When Nārada finished his tapas, he believed he had conquered desire by his own strength — and the pride, the Purāṇa says, came from Śiva's māyā. He went straight to Kailāsa and told Śiva everything, calling himself a great soul, a conqueror of Kāma.

Śiva said gently: you are blessed, my dear Nārada. But listen. Never tell this to anyone again — and above all, never speak of it before Viṣṇu. Even if you are asked, keep it secret. I tell you this because you are dear to me.

Nārada did not think the advice was meant for him. He went to Brahmā and told him. Brahmā, remembering Śiva's feet, forbade him to speak of it. Nārada went to Viṣṇu and told him.

Viṣṇu rose, embraced him, seated him on his own seat, and listened to the whole proud tale. Then he quietly closed his eyes and prayed to Śiva: blessed is your māyā. And to Nārada he said: you are a treasure of tapas. Desire arises only in those without devotion and dispassion — how could it touch you? Nārada laughed and said: if you are kind to me, what can Kāma do? And off he went.

The city that was not there

On his road, by Śiva's will, Viṣṇu set a city — a hundred yojanas wide, more beautiful than Vaikuṇṭha. Its king, Śīlanidhi, was holding a svayaṃvara for his daughter, and princes had come from all directions. Nārada was enchanted. The king seated him on a jewelled throne and brought his daughter, Śrīmatī, to bow at his feet. Read her fortune, the king asked. What kind of husband will she have?

Nārada looked at her and was lost. Her husband, he said, will be glorious as Śiva — lord of all, unconquered, a conqueror of desire. And he left thinking only one thing: how do I make her choose me, out of all these kings? Women love beauty. If I had Viṣṇu's beauty, she would be mine.

“Give me your form”

He hurried to Viṣṇu and asked to speak alone. There is a girl called Śrīmatī, the most beautiful in the three worlds, and I want to marry her today. Give me your form — your hari-rūpa — and she will certainly put the garland on me. I am your dear servant.

Viṣṇu laughed. Go, he said. I will do what is best for you, as a good physician does for a very sick patient. And he gave Nārada his own beautiful body — with a monkey's face. (Hari means Viṣṇu. It also means monkey.)

The svayaṃvara

Nārada sat in the hall, delighted, sure she would choose him. Everyone else saw him as he always looked; only two of Śiva's gaṇas, disguised as brahmins, knew the truth. They sat near him and whispered loudly to each other: look at Nārada — Viṣṇu's body, and a face like a monkey! And he thinks she'll choose him. Nārada, drunk with longing, did not hear.

Śrīmatī came in with the golden garland and walked through the hall. She saw Nārada's body and monkey face, turned away in disgust, and walked on. She stood unhappy, garlanding no one — until Viṣṇu himself arrived dressed as a king, seen by no one but her. Her face lit up; she put the garland round his neck; and he vanished with her to his own abode.

Two curses

The gaṇas said: you fool yourself, Nārada. Look at your face. He looked into a mirror — and saw a monkey. Blazing with anger, he cursed them: you mocked a brahmin — be born as rākṣasas, of a brahmin's seed. They said nothing; they knew it was all Śiva's will.

Then he stormed to Viṣṇu. You are a cheat, he cried. You fooled the asuras as Mohinī; if Śiva had not drunk the poison, your tricks would have ended that day. Hear my curse: you made me suffer for a woman — be born as a man, and suffer separation from your wife. The monkeys whose face you gave me will be your only help. And Viṣṇu, praising Śiva's māyā, accepted the curse.

Waking

Then Śiva withdrew his māyā. Nārada's mind cleared at once, and he was appalled. He fell at Viṣṇu's feet: my mind was clouded — I insulted you, I cursed you. Undo the curse. I will surely go to hell. What can I do? Viṣṇu lifted him up and told him: none of this was your fault. It was Śiva's play, to cure you of pride. Go to Brahmā, learn the greatness of Śiva, and sing his hundred names; that will cleanse everything.

And the curse was not undone. Viṣṇu was born as Rāma, lost Sītā, and won her back with an army of monkeys.