Upamanyu and the Ocean of Milk

Flour in water

Upamanyu was the son of the sage Vyāghrapāda. They were poor, and as a small boy he lived with his mother at his uncle's house. Once, there, he was given a little milk to drink. After that he could not forget it. Again and again he asked his mother for milk.

His mother went inside. She took the grains she had gleaned from the fields, ground them, stirred the flour into water, and coaxed him to drink it. The boy drank, and said: this is not milk. And he began to cry again.

His mother wiped his eyes and said, with grief: my son, we live in the forest. Where would milk come from? Without pleasing Śiva, you will never have milk. Whatever is done for Śiva in one life comes back in another — that is certain.

To the Himālaya

The boy stopped crying. If Śiva is the giver of good, he said, then grief is pointless. Don't grieve, mother — all will be well. Hear me: wherever Mahādeva is, sooner or later I will get from him an ocean of milk.

He bowed to his mother, took her leave, and went to the Himālaya. He built a little shrine of eight bricks, set a liṅga of earth inside it, invoked Śiva and Pārvatī into it with the five-syllable mantra, and worshipped them with leaves and flowers from the forest. He lived on air. He repeated na-maḥ-śi-vā-ya, and meditated, for a very long time — so fiercely that the whole world began to burn with the heat of a child's tapas.

Indra on his elephant

The gods, led by Viṣṇu, went to Śiva. And Śiva decided to test the boy. He took the form of Indra; Pārvatī became Indrāṇī; his gaṇas became gods; Nandī became the white elephant Airāvata. In all this splendour he came to Upamanyu's hermitage.

I am very pleased with your tapas, said the king of the gods. Ask for a boon. I will give you whatever you wish. Upamanyu folded his hands: I ask for devotion to Śiva.

Do you not know me? said Indra. I am the lord of the three worlds, whom every god bows to. Become my devotee and worship only me, and I will give you everything. Leave that Śiva, who has no qualities. What can he do for you — he who lives outside the company of the gods, among ghosts?

The boy's answer

Upamanyu kept repeating the five syllables. Then he said: you speak of the god of gods as if he were nothing and a ghost. You do not know Rudra — beyond nature, the source of Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Maheśa, lord of all the lords of the gods. I will not ask a boon of you, or of Viṣṇu, or of Brahmā, or of any god. Śaṅkara will give me my boon. Why say more? I will take nothing from anyone but Paśupati.

And then, the Purāṇa says, he gave up even his wish for milk. I must have done some wrong in another life, he said, to have to hear Śiva insulted today. He took ash from his sacred fire, charged it with the mantra of Aghora, and hurled it at Indra with a great shout. Then, fixing his mind on his lord's feet, he began to kindle the inner fire that would burn his own body away.

The ocean

Śiva gently stilled the fire in the boy. Nandī caught the charged ash in the air before it could land. And there, in place of Indra, stood Śiva himself, the young crescent moon in his hair, with Pārvatī on the bull and all his hosts. Drums sounded in heaven and flowers fell; Brahmā, Viṣṇu and the gods filled the ten directions. And before the boy's eyes, Śiva set thousands of oceans — of milk, of curd, of ghee, of honey, of every kind of food.

Upamanyu fell at his feet, drowning in joy. Śiva smiled and called him: come, come. He smelled the top of the boy's head, as a father does, and said: my child, I have tested you, and you are my true devotee. Pārvatī is your mother; from today you are my son. You will always stay young. I give you these oceans, and freedom from age and death, and a place among my gaṇas for ever. Then he put the boy into Pārvatī's arms: this is your son. And the goddess laid her lotus hand on his head.

The ocean of milk itself rose up and gave itself to him. But when Śiva told him to ask for anything more, Upamanyu asked only for lasting devotion, to be Śiva's servant, and for Śiva to be near him always. Śiva said: I will live in your hermitage for ever. Then he vanished, and the boy ran home to tell his mother everything.