The Hunter on Śivarātri

The sages' question

The sages in the Naimiṣa forest had heard Sūta describe the Śivarātri vow, and they were delighted. Tell us about this great vow at length, they said. Who first kept it here? And what fruit did someone gain who kept it even without knowing?

Listen, said Sūta. I will tell you an old story about a Niṣāda — a story that destroys every sin.

Gurudruha

Long ago, in a certain forest, there lived a Bhil named Gurudruha with his family. He was strong, pitiless and given to cruel deeds. Every day he went into the forest and killed animals, and living there in the forest he also stole in many ways. From childhood he had never done a single good deed. So a long time passed for that wicked man in the forest.

Then one day the holy day of Śivarātri came round. Living deep in the great forest, the hunter knew nothing about it.

That day his father and mother and his wife, tormented by hunger, said to him: Forest-dweller, give us food. So he took up his bow and set off at once to roam the whole forest after deer.

As fate would have it, he found nothing at all, and the sun went down. He was deeply troubled. What shall I do now? Where can I go? I have found nothing today. What will become of the children at home, of my mother and father, of my wife? I must take something back — going home without food is pointless.

Thinking this, he went to a pool and sat down by the ghāṭ where animals came down to the water. Some creature is bound to come here to drink, he thought. I will kill it, get my work done, and go home happy. So the Bhil took some water with him and climbed up a bilva tree that stood nearby, and sat there, hungry and thirsty, thinking only: When will something come, and when can I kill it?

The first watch: the doe who promised

In the first watch of the night a doe came there, thirsty, startled, leaping along. The hunter was pleased to see her, and quickly fitted an arrow to his bow to kill her.

As he did so, some water and a few bilva leaves fell down — onto a Śiva-liṅga that stood below. So, the Purāṇa says, the hunter completed the worship of Śiva for the first watch, and by its power his sins were destroyed.

The doe heard the sound, looked up, saw the hunter, and was terrified. Hunter, what are you going to do? she asked. Tell me truthfully. My whole family is hungry today, he said. I will kill you and feed them.

The doe thought: What shall I do? Where can I go? Well — I will try something. Then she said: If the flesh of this useless body of mine can make you happy, what greater merit could there be? I would be blessed, without doubt. No one could describe in a hundred years the merit of a creature that helps others. But my little ones are at my home just now. Let me hand them over to my sister or my husband, and I will come back.

Do not take my word for a lie, forest-dweller, she said. I will certainly come back to you here. The earth stands on truth; by truth the ocean stays in place and the streams flow; everything rests on truth.

The hunter would not believe her. Surprised and frightened, the doe spoke again, this time on oath. If I go home and do not come back to you, she said, let me bear the sin of a brahmin who sells the Veda and neglects his prayers at the three twilights; the sin of a wife who defies her husband; the sin of the ungrateful, of one who turns away from Śiva, of one who harms others, of one who breaks dharma, of the traitor and the cheat — all of it be mine, if I do not return.

She stood there after swearing so many oaths, and the Bhil believed her. Go home, he said. Glad at heart, the doe drank the water and went back to her place. And so the first watch of the night passed for him without sleep.

The second watch: her sister

Meanwhile another doe — the first doe's sister — came anxiously looking for her, and came down to drink. Seeing her, the Bhil drew his arrow again, and just as before, water and bilva leaves fell on Śiva. By chance the great Sadāśiva received the worship of the second watch too, and it brought the hunter good.

The doe looked at him and said: Forest-dweller, what are you doing? He told her his purpose, as before. Listen, hunter, she said: I am blessed. My having a body has found its meaning today, for this passing body will help someone. But my little ones are at home. Let me give them into my husband's care, and I will come back here.

I do not believe you, said the hunter. I will certainly kill you. Then the doe swore by Viṣṇu. If I do not return, she said, let me bear the sin of one who goes back on his word and loses his merit; of a man who leaves his wedded wife for another woman; of one who breaks the Vedic dharma and follows his own whim; of one who, a devotee of Viṣṇu, reviles Śiva; of one who lets his parents' death-anniversary pass empty, without the rites; of one who keeps his promise only grudgingly — all that sin be mine, if I do not come.

Go, said the hunter. And she too drank gladly and went home. So his second watch also passed without sleep.

The third watch: the stag

The third watch came. Finding the doe so late, the hunter grew uneasy and started looking about for her — and saw a stag coming along the path to the water. He was overjoyed at the sight of so well-fed an animal, and fitted an arrow to his bow. And once again, as he did so, by the working of his fate some bilva leaves fell on Śiva. So, by the hunter's good fortune, the worship of the third watch was also done that night, and in this way Śiva showed him his mercy.

Hearing the sound, the stag said: Forest-dweller, what are you doing? I will kill you for my family, said the hunter.

The stag was glad at heart, and answered at once: I am blessed to be so plump, since you will be satisfied. Everything is wasted for one whose body is never used to help others. And one who has the power to help but does not — his power is wasted, and when he goes to the next world he goes to hell. But let me give my young ones to their mother and comfort them all, and I will come back.

The hunter was astonished. By now his mind was a little purified and his heap of sins destroyed, and he said: Everyone who has come here has talked just like you and gone away — and those cheats have not come back yet. You too, caught in trouble, will tell a lie and go. How am I to live today?

Listen, hunter, said the stag. I do not lie. This whole world, moving and unmoving, rests on truth; the merit of one whose word is false is gone in a moment. Still, hear my solemn promise. If I do not return, let me bear the sin of one who breaks the vows of the twilight hours, of one who eats on Śivarātri, of the false witness, of one who steals what was left with him in trust; of the brahmin who neglects his twilight prayers, of one whose lips never say the name “Śiva”, of one who could help but does not, of one who plucks bilva leaves on a day sacred to Śiva, of one who eats forbidden food, and of one who eats without first worshipping Śiva and smearing his body with ash.

Go, said the hunter — come back quickly. And the stag drank and went.

A family keeps its word

At their home the deer, all bound by their promises, met and told each other everything that had happened. Having heard it all, they agreed that since they were held by the noose of truth, they must surely go. They comforted their young and got ready to leave.

The eldest doe said to her husband: Stag, how will these little ones live here without you? My lord, I made my promise first, so I should go first. You two stay here. The younger doe said: I am your servant; I will go today, and you stay here. Then the stag said: No, I will go — you two stay, for children are kept safe by their mother.

The does did not think that right according to dharma. Lovingly they told their husband that to live on as a widow is a wretched thing. So they comforted the young ones, gave them into the care of their neighbours, and all of them went quickly to where that best of hunters sat. And the little ones followed behind them too, thinking: whatever becomes of them, let it become of us as well.

The fourth watch: the hunter's awakening

The hunter saw them and was overjoyed, and fitted an arrow to his bow. At that moment water and bilva leaves fell on Śiva once more. So the worship of the fourth watch too was fully done, and in a moment all his sin was gone.

Then the two does and the stag said quickly: Best of hunters, be kind to us now, and give our bodies their purpose.

The Bhil was amazed at their words. By the power of the worship of Śiva, a rare knowledge dawned in him. These deer are blessed, he thought — they have no learning, yet they are truly worthy of honour, ready to use their own bodies to help another. And I — what have I gained from being born a human being? I have kept my own body alive by tormenting the bodies of others. I have fed my family by sinning every day. After all this sin, what end will I come to? I have done nothing but sin since I was born. Shame on my life! Shame!

With this knowledge risen in him, the hunter took the arrow from his bow and said: Best of deer, you are blessed. Go now.

Śiva appears; the name Guha

When he said this, Śaṅkara was pleased, and showed the hunter his own noble form, the one the worlds worship. Touching him with compassion, Śiva said joyfully: Bhil, I am pleased with this vow of yours. Ask for a boon.

The moment the hunter saw Śiva's form, he was set free. “Today I have gained everything,” he cried, and fell at Śiva's feet. Śiva, pleased, gave him the name Guha, looked on him with grace, and gave him divine boons.

Listen, hunter, Śiva said. Make your fine capital at Śṛṅgaverapura and enjoy divine pleasures there as you please. Your line will grow there without end, and you will be praised even by the gods. Śrī Rāma himself will surely come to your house. He loves my devotees, and he will make you his friend. And with your heart given to my service, you will win the liberation that is so hard to win.

Meanwhile the deer too saw Śiva and bowed to him, and were freed from being deer. By the mere sight of Śiva they were released from a curse; they took on divine bodies, climbed into celestial chariots, and went to heaven.

Vyādheśvara on Mount Arbuda

From that time, the Purāṇa says, Śiva has been famous on Mount Arbuda by the name Vyādheśvara — the Lord of the Hunter — who, when seen and worshipped, quickly grants both enjoyment and liberation. And the Bhil, from that day, after enjoying every happiness and receiving the grace of Śrī Rāma, attained sāyujya — union with Śiva.

He kept this vow without knowing it, says Sūta, and still reached sāyujya. What wonder, then, if people who keep it with devotion reach that same blessed union?

I have weighed all the śāstras and many kinds of dharma, Sūta says, and I call this Śivarātri vow the highest of all. Many vows, many tīrthas, wonderful gifts, all kinds of sacrifices, austerities and repetitions of mantras — none of them equals Śivarātri. So whoever wants their own good should always keep this vow, most auspicious and divine, which gives both enjoyment and liberation. This is the famous Vratarāja, the king of vows.