Tryambakeśvara: Gautama and the Godāvarī

Gautama at Brahmagiri

Sūta began a story he had heard from his own teacher, Vyāsa — one, he said, that destroys sin.

Long ago there lived a famous sage named Gautama, with his deeply righteous wife Ahalyā. On the mountain called Brahmagiri, in the south, he did tapas for ten thousand years.

Then a terrible drought came, and lasted a hundred years. Everyone suffered. Not one green leaf could be seen on the earth — so where would anyone find the water that keeps creatures alive? Sages, people, cattle, birds and deer all left and scattered in the ten directions. Some sages stayed and held on by breath-control and meditation, waiting out that terrible time.

Varuṇa's gift

Gautama too took up prāṇāyāma, and for six months did fine tapas in that place to win the favour of Varuṇa, lord of the waters. Varuṇa came to give him a boon. “I am pleased,” he said. “Ask, and I will give.”

Gautama asked for rain. But Varuṇa said: “How can I send rain against the command of fate? You are wise — ask for something else that I can give you.”

So Gautama, whose thoughts were always for others, said: “Lord of the gods, if you are pleased and wish to give me a boon, do this. You are master of all the waters. Give me water that never runs out — divine water that bears lasting fruit.”

“Dig a pit,” said Varuṇa. Gautama dug a pit one hand deep, and Varuṇa filled it with divine water. “Great sage,” he said, “this water will never fail you. It will be a tīrtha, known on earth by your name. Gifts given here, homa, tapas, worship of the gods and śrāddha for the ancestors — all of it will bear undying fruit.” Gautama praised him, Varuṇa vanished, and the sage found happiness in having helped others.

The Purāṇa pauses here to praise such people. Keeping company with the great makes one great, it says, and keeping company with the small makes one small: live near a lion's cave and you may find elephant-pearls; live near a jackal's den and you find bones. Good people cannot bear the sufferings of others — they endure their own and remove others'. Trees, gold, sandalwood and sugarcane live for others; and the earth is held up by four pillars of merit: the kind, the humble, the helpful and the self-controlled.

The forest blooms

With that rare water Gautama performed his daily and occasional rites as the scriptures lay down. Then he had rice, barley, wild nīvāra and other grains sown for the sacrificial offerings. Grains of many kinds sprang up, and trees, flowers and fruits of every sort.

Hearing of it, thousands of other sages came, and with them animals, birds and many other creatures. The forest became the loveliest place on earth; because the water never failed, the drought no longer hurt anyone there. Many sages settled in that forest with their pupils, wives and children, busy with good works, and sowed grain to live on. Through Gautama's power, the whole forest was filled with joy.

A quarrel at the water

One day Gautama sent his pupils to fetch water, and they went with their water-pots in hand. But the wives of the other sages had come for water too, and when they saw Gautama's pupils at the pit they stopped them. “We sages' wives will take water first,” they said sharply. “After that you can take yours — keep your distance.”

The pupils went back and told their teacher's wife. Ahalyā, herself an ascetic, calmed them, went back with them herself, drew the water and brought it to Gautama, and he did his daily rites with it.

The other women, crooked in their thinking, were furious. They scolded Ahalyā, went back to their leaf-huts, and told their husbands a twisted version of the whole affair. Hearing it, the sages — as fate would have it — grew angry with Gautama.

The sages and Gaṇeśa

To wreck Gautama's tapas, those angry, foolish sages worshipped Gaṇeśa with rites and many offerings. Gaṇeśa, who gives devotees what they ask, appeared and said: “I am pleased. Ask a boon. What shall I do for you?”

“If you will grant a boon,” they said, “have Gautama driven out of this hermitage in disgrace, by the rest of us sages. Do that for us.”

Gaṇeśa laughed and tried kindly to talk them out of it. “Listen, all of you,” he said. “What you are doing is not right. To be angry with a man who has done no wrong will only harm you. It is not good to hurt someone who once helped you; if you hurt him, you will be ruined here and now. Tapas like yours should be used to win good fruit — no one throws away the good on purpose and takes up what will hurt him.”

But their minds were clouded. “Lord,” they said, “this is what you must do, and nothing else.”

Gaṇeśa tried again. “Brahmā has said that a low man never becomes good, and a good man never becomes low — that is certain. When you were suffering for want of food, Gautama gave you comfort. Now you want to give him pain. That is not right by any standard in the world; think it over carefully. If you ignore me because your wives have swayed you, even that will turn out for his highest good, have no doubt. He will surely go on doing you good even now, so deceiving him is wrong. Ask for some other boon.”

He pleaded with them at length, but they would not listen. And since he is bound to those who worship him, Śiva's son finally said, without enthusiasm: “I will do as you ask. What is to happen will happen.” And he vanished.

The dying cow

Gautama knew nothing of the plot. He went on happily doing his daily rites with his wife. Now hear, said Sūta, what came of that boon.

Rice and barley had been sown in Gautama's field. Gaṇeśa took the form of a very weak, thin cow and went there, and trembling, the cow began to eat the barley and rice. Just then, as fate would have it, Gautama arrived. Being kind, he tried to shoo the cow away with a few blades of grass. At the mere touch of the grass the cow fell to the ground — and died, right before his eyes.

At once the sages, who had been hiding in disguise, and their wicked wives began to cry: “What has Gautama done!” Gautama, bewildered, called Ahalyā and said in anguish: “Devī, what has happened? How did this happen? Is the Lord angry with me? What shall I do now — where shall I go? The sin of killing a cow has fallen on me.”

Driven out

The brahmins of the place began to abuse Gautama, and their wives abused Ahalyā, wounding them with harsh words. Their pupils and sons joined in, cursing Gautama again and again. “Your face is not fit to be seen,” the sages said. “Go! Go! Whoever looks on the face of a cow-killer must bathe with his clothes on. As long as you stay in this hermitage, neither the gods nor the ancestors will accept anything we offer. Cow-killer! Sinner! Take your family and go somewhere else — and don't delay.”

Saying this they pelted him with stones, and tormented his wife with cruel words. Beaten and insulted, Gautama said: “Sages, I am going. I will live somewhere else.”

He left, went a krośa away, and with their permission made a new hermitage there. But the brahmins told him: “As long as the sin of killing a cow is on you, you must do nothing. You have no right to any Vedic rite for the gods or the ancestors.”

The penance

Half a month passed. Then Gautama, sick with grief, begged the sages: “Have mercy on me. Tell me what to do — tell me how this sin can be removed.” At first they would not answer. So he went to where they were gathered, bowed to them from a distance, and asked again, humbly, like a servant: “What should I do now?”

The sages conferred and said: “There is no purity without expiation. Do prāyaścitta to purify your body. Go around the whole earth three times proclaiming your sin; then come back here and keep a month-long vow; then walk around this Brahmagiri a hundred and one times — then you will be pure.

“Or else: bring Gaṅgā here and bathe in her, and worship Śiva by making ten million earthen liṅgas; then bathe in Gaṅgā again and you will be pure. First walk around this mountain eleven times, then bathe with a hundred pots of Gaṅgā water and worship the earthen liṅgas. Then your expiation will be complete.”

“Very well,” said Gautama. “At your command, revered sages, I will worship the earthen liṅgas and walk around the mountain.” And he did: he circled the mountain, made the earthen liṅgas and worshipped them. The faithful Ahalyā did everything with him, and their pupils and their pupils' pupils served them both.

Śiva appears

When Gautama and his wife had done this penance, Śiva was pleased and appeared with Pārvatī and his gaṇas. “Great sage,” said the treasure of mercy, “I am very pleased with your devotion. Ask for a boon.”

Gautama looked at Śiva's beautiful form, bowed, and praised him with devotion in many ways. Then he stood with folded hands and said: “Lord, make me free of sin.”

“Sage,” said Śiva, delighted, “you are blessed, you have done all that needs doing, and you have no sin at all. These wicked, sinful sages deceived you. People become sinless merely by seeing you — how could you, who are devoted to me, be a sinner? It is those who harmed you who are the sinners, the wrongdoers, the killers. Whoever looks at them will become sinful. They are ungrateful, and there is no expiation for them.” And Śiva, who brings joy to the good and punishment to the wicked, told him of many other misdeeds of those sages.

Gautama was amazed. He bowed again with folded hands and said: “Maheśvara, those sages have done me a very great favour. If they had not done this, how would I ever have seen you? They are blessed — they have done me the greatest good. Their wrongdoing has brought me my highest gain.”

Śiva was even more pleased, and looked at him with grace. “Best of brahmins, you are blessed, the finest of sages. Know that I am supremely pleased, and ask a great boon.”

“Give me Gaṅgā”

Gautama thought: the story of my sin is now known to the world. So that it does not become a lie, the judgement of those sages ought to be made true. With folded hands and bowed head, he said: “Lord, what you say is true. But let the decision of the elders stand — let it be as they have ruled. Lord of the gods, if you are pleased, give me Gaṅgā, and so do good to the world. I bow to you, again and again.” And for the sake of the world he took hold of Śiva's lotus feet and bowed to him once more.

Then Śiva, kind to his devotees, gave the sage a water he had long kept aside — the essence of earth and heaven, drawn out and saved from before — together with the water that remained from what Brahmā had given at Śiva's wedding. That water of Gaṅgā became a woman of great beauty, and the sage praised her and bowed.

“Gaṅgā,” said Gautama, “you are blessed; you have made the world pure. I am falling into hell — surely you will purify me too.” And Śiva, who wishes good for all, said: “Listen, Gaṅgā. At my command, purify this sage Gautama.”

Gaṅgā's terms

Gaṅgā, Śiva's own power and the purifier of all, answered: “Lord, I will purify the sage and his family, and then go back to my own place. I speak the truth.”

For the good of the world Śiva said: “Devī, stay here until the twenty-eighth Kali age of the Vaivasvata Manvantara.”

“Master, Maheśvara, destroyer of Tripura,” said the best of rivers, “I will stay on earth only if my greatness is to be greater than that of all others. And hear one more thing, Lord: stay near me yourself, in your beautiful form, with your gaṇas and Pārvatī.”

“You are blessed, Gaṅgā,” said Śiva. “Listen — I am not separate from you. Even so, I will stay here, and you stay too.” Gladly, Gaṅgā accepted his command.

The gods make a promise

Just then the gods, the ancient sages, the ancestors, many holy tīrthas and sacred places all arrived, and worshipped Gautama, Gaṅgā and Girīśa with cries of victory. Brahmā, Viṣṇu and all the gods praised them with folded hands. Pleased, Gaṅgā and Śiva said: “Best of gods, ask a boon; we will give it for your good.”

“Lord of the gods,” they said, “and Gaṅgā — if you are both pleased, then stay here, for our good and the good of mankind.”

“Why don't you gods stay here yourselves for the good of the world?” said Gaṅgā. “As for me, once I have purified Gautama I will go back where I came from. How will my distinction among you be known? Prove it, and then I can surely stay here.”

“When Bṛhaspati, the friend of all, stands in Siṃha, the sign of the lion,” said the gods, “all of us will come to you — no doubt of it. Over eleven years we grow stained by the sins that people wash off in the world; then, dear one, we will certainly come to you to wash them away. We tell you this truly and with respect. For the sake of the worlds and for our good, you and Śaṅkara should stay here. As long as Bṛhaspati is in Siṃha we will stay here too; bathing in your waters three times a day and seeing Śiva, we will be freed of all our sins, and then, with your leave, go back to our homes.”

Entreated by Gautama and by the gods, Śiva lovingly stayed there, and so did Gaṅgā. There Gaṅgā became famous as the Gautamī, and the liṅga became known throughout the world as Tryambaka — the destroyer even of the greatest sins.

From that day, says the Purāṇa, whenever Bṛhaspati enters Siṃha, all the gods, tīrthas and holy places come here. Puṣkara and all the sacred lakes, Gaṅgā and all the rivers, Viṣṇu and the other gods dwell on the Gautamī's bank. While they stay there, worship in their own places brings no fruit; only when they have gone home again does it bear fruit.

This Jyotirliṅga called Tryambaka stands on the bank of the Gautamī and destroys great sins. Whoever sees it with devotion, worships it, bows to it and praises it is freed of every sin. Worshipped by Gautama, it grants every wish in this world and the highest liberation in the next.

Gaṅgādvāra and Kuśāvarta

The sages listening to Sūta had more questions. From where did Gaṅgā flow out as water? Why did her greatness exceed all others? And what became of the wicked brahmins who tormented Gautama?

At Gautama's prayer, said Sūta, Gaṅgā herself burst out at once from Brahmagiri. Her stream came forth from a branch of an udumbara fig tree, and the great sage bathed in it with joy. His pupils and the other sages who had come bathed there happily too. From then on the place was called Gaṅgādvāra, the Gate of Gaṅgā; merely seeing that lovely place takes away every sin.

Then the sages who hated Gautama came to bathe as well — and when Gaṅgā saw them, she quickly vanished. Gautama joined his hands, bowed his head, and praised her again and again. “Don't do this!” he cried. “Don't do this! Mother, whether these sages are blinded by pride, good or not good — by the power of my merit, show yourself to them.”

A voice rang from the sky — Gaṅgā's voice. “They are utterly wicked, ungrateful, traitors to their master, cheats and hypocrites. They should not even be looked at.”

“Mother,” said Gautama, “hear the saying of the great, and make the Lord's word true. The Lord has said: “The man on this earth who does good even to those who harm him — by him I am made pure.””

Again Gaṅgā's voice sounded from the sky. “Great sage Gautama, what you say is true and good. Even so, to teach the world, let them do expiation. Since they are now in your hands, at your command let them walk around this mountain a hundred and one times. Only then will these wrongdoers have the right to see me. This I say truly.”

Humbled, the sages begged Gautama, “Forgive our offence,” and walked around the mountain. When they had done it, Gautama, at Gaṅgā's bidding, named the place below Gaṅgādvāra Kuśāvarta; and Gaṅgā appeared there again to please him. So that fine tīrtha became famous as Kuśāvarta. Whoever bathes there, the Purāṇa says, casts off all sins, gains rare wisdom, and soon becomes fit for liberation.

Afterwards, when Gautama and the other sages met, those who had been ungrateful were ashamed.

The other telling

“Sūta,” the listening sages said, “we have heard it differently: that Gautama grew angry and cursed them.” That too is true, said Sūta, because of the difference of kalpas — and he told that version as well.

Seeing the sages suffering in the famine, Gautama did great tapas to Varuṇa, won the undying water, had rice and barley sown, and by his own power arranged food for them all. Once their wicked wives were put to shame over the water — through their own behaviour — and angrily spoke jealous words about Gautama to their husbands. So those crooked-minded brahmins made an artificial cow and let it loose to graze on his crops.

Seeing the cow eating his crop, Gautama gently pushed it away, tapping it with a blade of grass. At the mere touch it fell to the ground and, as fate would have it, died in an instant. The sages all gathered and cried, “Gautama has killed a cow!” The Śiva-devotee Gautama was frightened and stunned, with Ahalyā and his pupils — until he learned that the cow was a fake. Then he was angry, and cursed them all.

The curse, as the Purāṇa gives it, is fierce and sectarian: that they would turn away from the Veda and from the Śaiva path that gives liberation; that they would follow a way outside the Veda; that they would not hold Śiva as the supreme God and would have no love for his worship, his devotees or his festivals; and that their descendants would share the curse, and suffer hell and low births.

Having cursed them, Gautama went back to his hermitage, gave himself wholly to devotion to Śiva, and became supremely pure. The brahmins, heartsick from the curses and cut off from Śiva's dharma, went to live in Kāñcīpurī, and their sons too were cut off from it. In the Kali age, Sūta said, many people will be as wicked as they were.

So Sūta finished the story of how the Gautamī Gaṅgā came to be, her sin-removing greatness, and the greatness of the Jyotirliṅga Tryambaka — hearing which, he said, a person is freed of all sins.