Holy Shivaratri
The following parable, from the Skanda Purana [Hindu scripture], of the hunter and the four deer highlights the fundamental requisite for devotion—keeping one’s word and worship of the Divine. These two acts draw the grace of the Divine.
Long ago, there was a huntsman in a forest who lived on wild animals that he killed with his bow. One day, he went to a village on the outskirts of the jungle to repay a loan from a moneylender. The huntsman sought him out in a Shiva temple where he had gone to pray on the holy day of Shivaratri [a day devoted to the worship of Lord Shiva]. Incidentally, he [the hunter], too, saw the Lord’s image and heard the people singing the praise of the Lord. The moneylender, however, declined to transact business on such a holy day. It was quite late in the day by the time the hunter returned home, hungry and tired. Unwittingly, he, too, had observed the Shivaratri fast! Finding his wife and children hungry and exhaus-ted, he again set out at dusk to hunt. He wandered far, but with little success.
Spotting a small water hole, he climbed up a sacred Bilva tree [Aegle Marmelos tree] on its edge to wait for a thirsty prey. To get a clearer view of his target, he plucked off some of the boughs and leaves of that sacred tree; and, they fell on a shivalinga [the oval-shaped representation of the Divine] underneath! How fortunate he was to visit a Shiva temple on Shivaratri, to observe a fast on the holy day, and finally to worship the shivalinga with the Bilva leaves!
As the first quarter of the holy night was draw-ing to a close, a well-fed deer came to the water hole. The huntsman set his aim, but he was sur-prised when he heard the deer pray to him. His heart had soft-ened a little as a result of the events of the day. So he listened without anger. “O merciful man, I am enceinte; I am already feeling the pains; allow me to go into my herd and I shall come back to this very place, after entrusting the baby to some sister’s care so that you can kill me and feed your fill.” How could the huntsman believe her words? She was obviously trying to escape his arrow, he thought. So, he asked her, “How can I trust you and let you go? Whoever will come toward death after escaping it?”
Then, the deer said, “Listen, I shall take an oath, for there is nothing higher than the plight-ed word. If I do not return as promised, may I suffer like the brahmin [the priestly person] who does not perform sandhya [morning and evening prayers], the person who derides the Vedas, who barters his Vedic scholarship, the man of crooked mind, the creator of village factions, the thief who robs others, the man who defames the goof, who ill-treats his parents, who resu-mes what he has once given, who revels in carrying a swollen head, who has foul habits, the slave of his senses, the person who bears false witness against the innocent, who twists and turns the meaning of scriptural texts, the self-centered fellow who eats a good meal while his wife and children have no share in it, the poisonous man who wounds with sharp abuse, the usurer who fattens on another’s misery, and all such who practise unrighteous acts. May I suffer the agony into which these fall if I fail to come to be killed by you when dawn breaks,” she said.
The huntsman allowed it to go unharmed. He heard distant sounds of conches being blown in the Shiva temple on the edge of the jungle. He felt a warmth within himself. He plucked a few more Bilva leaves as he kept vigil lest another deer went unnoticed.
At the end of the second quarter of the night, another deer came down to the waterhole; and the huntsman strung his bow. She [the deer] spoke sweetly in a plaintive voice, “Listen to me for a moment, dear huntsman! You must have killed already my sister who is pregnant and who usually comes to drink water at this place; she started earlier than I did. Tell me the truth: has she met with death at your hands?” The huntsman replied that he had allowed her to go and return for being killed, under strict oath. My wife and children are dying through hunger and I cannot dally any longer. Get ready to meet your end,” said the huntsman, in evident hurry to go home with his kill.
The deer did not agree. “Another deer, fatter and sleeker is coming along behind me; it will be here any moment. You can kill it, but please release me on oath. I shall bid farewell to my husband and return at dawn.” “Declare it on oath,” said the man, whose heart melted at her plight. “May I suffer the calamities that visit the four castes when they overstep the limits of conduct prescribed for them,” she declared and left.
The third quarter of the sacred night drew toward its end. The huntsman spent it in vigil, listening to temple bells while dropping Bilva leaves on the lingam. He was being transmuted internally by the declarations and oaths of the deer.
Suddenly, a deer came into view in the starry light. When he aimed his deadly arrow, it said, “Stay! You have killed my two consorts and yet you need me?” The man said, “No; I let them go; they will come at dawn, if what they swore is true.” “I, too, shall come at dawn for we have children and they have to be entrusted to kinsmen in the herd. I shall take an oath: May I get on my head the suffering that is reserved for the wife who cheats the husband, the son who cheats the parents, the servant who cheats the master, the pupil who cheats the teacher, the friend who cheats another, and the lord who cheats his dependent.”
The huntsman felt that the oath was sufficiently binding. “If I fail to re-turn at dawn,” the deer continued, “may I suffer the sorrow of the sinner who willfully damages the bund of a tank, of a Vaishnava [devotee of Lord Vishnu] who slanders a worshipper of Shiva, of a Shaivite [one who worships Shiva] who slanders a devotee of Vishnu.” So, the man let him go, for he was sure a person who takes such terrible oaths will certainly keep his word. The deer stayed for some more time and took a few more oaths, in order to instill greater confidence. “May I, if I do not keep my word, suffer the grief of the sinner who sleeps even after sunrise, who recites the four Vedas wrong, who betrays trust, who ridicules the sick, the defectives, the maimed, and the poor, who does not worship the Lord on such holy days as Shivaratri and Krishnashtami.”
The fourth quarter, too, came and was about to end. He continued with the involuntary vigil, puja [prayer], and smarana [remembering the name], which millions voluntarily do that night. The clouds on the eastern horizon were fringed with silver splendor. A fourth deer appeared with a baby deer skipping behind. When the huntsman fitted his arrow to the bow, she pleaded, “Is it moral to kill a mother with a suckling child? Stay; I shall give this kid to be nursed by some sister and then I shall come back.” “Are you, too, saying it on oath?” asked the man. “May I suffer the torture reserved for those who refuse to help others when they have the chance and the resources, who inflict pain on others, if I break my word,” the deer dec-lared and left, with the child.
The oaths made by the deer made a profound effect on the mind of the huntsman; it softened his heart and elevated his outlook. He became a moral being, a satwic [pure] personality.
In a few minutes, all the four deer presented themselves under the Bilva tree, by the side of the shivalinga, for being killed. “Kill me first; then, these two con-sorts and this sister whose child has found another mother,” prayed the male. The huntsman shed tears of repentance; he condemned himself for his wickedness and fell at the feet of the amazed deer. “You have saved me,” he exclaimed. “Pardon me,” he pleaded. “You have rescued me from hell; you have wiped off my ignorance. I take this oath in your presence,” he said breaking his bow; “I shall not kill.” Then he heard a voice from heaven proclaim:
“O huntsman! You have become pure by repentance and renunciation and the faith you placed in the sincere vows of these sacred deer. You have fasted- and you have observed vigil on the holy day of Shivaratri, you have placed Bilva leaves on the linga; and you have granted a lease of life to these animals. So, the Gods have conferred a boon on you: you shall shine as the star ‘Sirius’ in the firmament as a lesson from which all men shall learn your virtues. And these deer shall also shine in the sky in a group just as they are standing here before you and be known as Mrigasira, the constellation, Orion. You can see them looking down upon all mankind, ex-horting them to pity, to non-violence, to keep the plighted word, and knowingly or unknowingly to worship God with whatever you happen to do. That is the sathyam [truth], the sundaram [beauty] and the sivam [auspiciousness] of Shivaratri.
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, Feb. 1966
