How Tāraka Was Born

Diti's grief

Nārada had heard how Pārvatī was born. Now he asked Brahmā: who was Tāraka, the demon who made the gods suffer, and whose son was he? And Brahmā said: hear first how Tāraka came to be, for it was to kill him that the gods took refuge in Śiva and laboured so hard.

Brahmā's son Marīci had a son, Kaśyapa, who married thirteen of Dakṣa's daughters. The eldest of them was Diti. She had two sons, Hiraṇyakaśipu and Hiraṇyākṣa, and both were terrible troublers of the world. Viṣṇu killed them — one as Narasiṃha, the man-lion, the other as Varāha, the boar — and the gods lived free of fear again.

Diti was left in grief. She went to Kaśyapa, served him faithfully, and conceived again. But Indra, always watchful, saw his chance: he slipped into her womb and cut the unborn child to pieces with his thunderbolt. Diti was keeping a vow, and by its power the child did not die. As she slept, forty-nine sons were born from her womb. They became the gods called the Maruts and went up to heaven, and Indra took them as his own.

Vajrāṅga

Diti, stung by what had happened, served her husband again until he was pleased. If you purify yourself and do tapas for ten thousand of Brahmā's years, Kaśyapa told her, you will bear a mighty son. Diti did the tapas with faith, conceived by her husband, and bore just such a son. He was godlike, and his body was as hard as his name — Vajrāṅga, “thunderbolt-limbed”. He was mighty from the day he was born.

At his mother's bidding Vajrāṅga seized Indra and the other gods by force and punished them in many ways. Diti was delighted to see Indra brought low; the gods suffered, each as his own deeds deserved. Then Brahmā came with Kaśyapa, spoke words of peace, and had the gods set free.

Vajrāṅga let them go gladly. The Purāṇa calls him pure-hearted, free of malice, a devotee of Śiva. Indra is selfish and wicked, he said; he destroyed my mother's children, and now he has had his reward — let him go back and rule his kingdom. I did all this only because my mother asked. I have no wish to enjoy any world. Brahmā, you know the Veda: tell me its essence, so that I may be happy always, unshaken and at peace.

The essence of truth, Brahmā told him, is sattva — a pure and peaceful heart. And Brahmā made a beautiful woman named Varāṅgī and gave her to Vajrāṅga as his wife. Then he went home, and Kaśyapa, well pleased, went to his own place.

Varāṅgī's wish

Vajrāṅga truly changed. He put away the demon's nature, lived without enmity, and was content. But sattva did not rise in Varāṅgī's heart. She served her husband devotedly and in many ways — but she served him with a wish in her heart.

Pleased with her, Vajrāṅga asked: my dear, what do you want? What is in your mind? And she told him humbly. If you are pleased with me, my good lord, give me a son — a mighty son who will conquer the three worlds and make Indra suffer.

Vajrāṅga was shaken and amazed. He had put away enmity; he was wise and at peace. My wife wants war with the gods, he thought, and I do not like it. What should I do? Where can I go? How can I keep my resolve? If her wish is fulfilled, all three worlds will suffer, and the gods and sages with them. If it is not, I will go to hell for failing her. Either way dharma is harmed — so I have heard.

He weighed the two sides for a long time, caught in a true dilemma. In the end, the Purāṇa says, by Śiva's will, the wise Vajrāṅga accepted his wife's word. So be it, he told her.

Vajrāṅga's tapas

For this purpose Vajrāṅga mastered his senses and did tapas for many years, with Brahmā as its object and with a glad heart. Seeing how great it was, Brahmā came to give him a boon. Vajrāṅga saw the Creator standing in the sky, bowed, praised him in many ways, and asked for what his wife wanted.

Lord, give me a son who will do the highest good for his mother and for me — mighty, glorious, able in everything, and a treasure of tapas. “So be it,” said Brahmā. And then, the Purāṇa says, he went home remembering Śiva — and his heart was heavy.

A birth full of omens

Varāṅgī conceived, and for many years the child grew within her, full of fierce energy. When the time came she bore a huge and mighty son, whose radiance lit up all ten directions.

At his birth the three worlds shook with omens — in heaven, on earth and in the sky between. Thunderbolts fell roaring with blazing meteors; sharp-tailed comets rose. The earth and its mountains trembled, the directions seemed on fire, rivers and above all the oceans heaved. Harsh winds howled, raising dust and tearing up trees. Rings formed again and again around the sun and moon, as when Rāhu seizes them.

From the mountain caves came a rumbling like chariot wheels. Jackals and owls cried out and seemed to spit fire; she-jackals crept into the villages howling. Dogs lifted their heads and wailed as if singing or weeping. Donkeys ran about in herds, braying and pawing the ground; birds flew up from their nests; cattle in the pens and beasts in the forest fled in terror and could not stay still. Cows' eyes streamed and blood ran from their udders. Clouds rained pus. The images of the gods leapt and wept; trees fell with no wind; the planets seemed to fight in the sky. Ignorant people thought the end of the world had come.

Kaśyapa thought it over and named the mighty asura Tāraka. And the boy grew fast, showing his strength at once, his body hard as a thunderbolt, until he stood like a king of mountains.

Tāraka's tapas

Tāraka, great in strength and a master of illusions who could fool even other illusionists, asked his mother's leave to do tapas. With her permission he resolved to conquer all the gods. He went to Madhuvana, the Honey Forest, and there, obedient to his elders' teaching, he began a terrible tapas aimed at Brahmā.

For a hundred years he stood on one foot, arms raised, eyes fixed on the sun. For a hundred years he stood on the tip of one toe. For a hundred years he lived on water, and for a hundred on air. A hundred years he stood in the water, a hundred on bare ground, a hundred in the midst of fire. A hundred years he stood head down; a hundred years he stood on his palms. And for a hundred years he hung head down from the branch of a tree, holding it with his feet, breathing in the sacred smoke. It was a tapas, the Purāṇa says, that was hard even to hear about.

From his head rose a great, violent blaze that spread in all directions. The worlds of the gods began to burn; gods and sages everywhere were in distress. Indra was the most afraid: someone is doing tapas, he thought, and he will take my place — or even destroy the universe before its time. No one knew what to do. So the gods and sages, frightened and humbled, went together to Brahmā's world, bowed, praised him and told him everything.

The boon

Brahmā understood, and went to the place where the asura was doing his tapas. You have done terrible tapas, he said. Ask a boon; there is nothing I will not give you.

Tāraka bowed and praised him, and then asked for something very hard. Grandfather, when you are pleased, what can be impossible for me? If you want to give me a boon, give me two things. In all this world you have made, let no one be as strong as I am. And let me die only when a son born of Śiva's seed becomes the general of the gods' army and strikes me with his weapons.

Brahmā gave him exactly that, and left quickly. Tāraka, overjoyed, went to the city called Śoṇita.

Lord of the three worlds

Then Śukra, the demons' teacher, came with the asuras and — at Brahmā's command, the Purāṇa says — crowned Tāraka king of the three worlds. He ruled over everything that moves and does not move, and made the gods suffer.

The guardians of the world gave up their treasures to him out of fear. Indra gave him the elephant Airāvata and the divine horse Uccaiḥśravas; Kubera gave his nine treasures; Varuṇa his white horses; the sages gave the wish-granting cow. Whatever good thing Tāraka saw, anywhere, he took by force, and the three worlds were stripped of their riches. Even the oceans gave him their jewels.

And yet, strangely, the world under him was not barren. The earth gave grain without ploughing, the people had what they wanted, the sun burned only as much as did no harm, the moon kept shining, and the wind blew kindly for all. But the wicked asura took for himself all that belonged to the gods and the ancestors. He removed the gods from their posts, put daityas in their places and set the gods to serve him. So he held the three worlds, and became Indra himself — a ruler without rival, master of his senses, ruling in a way the world had never seen.

The gods before Brahmā

Helpless, without a protector, Indra and the gods came to Brahmā. They bowed and praised him, and he welcomed them: are your realms secure? Why have you come?

Lord of the worlds, they said, don't you know? Proud of your boon, Tāraka has driven us out of our places and taken them himself. Wherever we go, he torments us day and night; wherever we run, there we find Tāraka. Agni, Yama, Varuṇa, Nirṛti, Vāyu and all the guardians of the quarters are in his power. We gods and all our households have become like mortals, serving him and living on his favour. He has taken every lovely woman and every apsaras. There are no sacrifices now; ascetics cannot do tapas; there is no giving and no dharma in the world. His general Krauñca, a wicked dānava, goes down to Pātāla and torments the creatures there.

As the worst fever makes even strong medicine useless, they said, he has made all our efforts useless. Even Viṣṇu's discus Sudarśana, our hope of victory, struck his neck like a garland of flowers and fell blunted. We are burning in the fire called Tāraka. Tell us where to go.

A poison tree

Brahmā answered as the moment required. It was my boon that made Tāraka strong, he said, so it is not right for me to kill him. One should not raise even a poison tree and then cut it down oneself. Śiva can do all your work — but he will not act on his own; he must be moved to it. Tāraka will be destroyed by his own sin. Neither I, nor Viṣṇu, nor Śaṅkara, nor any other, nor all the gods together can kill him, because of my boon. Only a son born of Śiva's seed can.

So do this, he said. The Satī who gave up her body at Dakṣa's sacrifice has been born again from Menā — you know it. Mahādeva will certainly take her hand; but you too must make the effort, so that Śiva's seed is placed in Pārvatī. Only she can move the ever-chaste Śaṅkara; no other woman can. Now in the fullness of youth, at her father's bidding, she serves Śiva every day on the Himālaya with her two friends, while he sits lost in meditation. Even with the loveliest woman in the three worlds before him, the Moon-crested One does not stir, even in his mind. Find a way for him to accept Kālī as his wife.

Then Brahmā went to Tāraka himself and spoke to him kindly. You rule heaven, the very essence of splendour, he said, and you want more than you did tapas for. The boon I gave you was smaller than this; I never gave you heaven. Leave heaven and rule the earth — there is plenty to do there, too. And Tāraka listened. He left heaven, came down to earth, and ruled from his city of Śoṇita.

The gods went with Indra to his city. There they talked it over and said to him: you must do what Brahmā has told us — find a way for Śiva to feel desire and long for Śivā. And having laid the whole matter before Indra, they went back to their homes. What Indra did next — how he called on Kāma — is the story of Kāma's burning.