Contents
Introduction to Places
Before I go into the post, let me talk about some of the places that will be referred to in this post and a few more posts in the future.
This post will start and revolve around the city of Pratishthana (modern Paithan), a city situated on the Deccan plateau in present-day Maharashtra, on the banks of the Godavari River. This city is where Kaushika lives.
North of Pratishthana is the Vindhya Mountain Range. It's in this region that we imagine the encounter between Mandavya and Kaushika taking place.
Somewhere within the forests and hills of the Vindhya range, we find Sage Atri’s Ashram. Her path to help Kaushika would take her west or northwest from this ashram eventually reaching Pratishthana.
To the southeast of Pratishthana are the Nallamala Hills (part of the Eastern Ghats in present day Andhra Pradesh). There one can find Dattatreya’s ashram.
"Before I tell you about Dattatreya and his birth, as you asked, I will tell you what happened to a brahmin called Kaushika. Kaushika's tale is linked to Dattatreya. Listen on, as I tell you his story," said Sumati. Mahamati sat quietly, listening to his son.
The Flawed Ritualist
Long ago, in a city on the banks of river Sarasvati, there lived a priest named Dambhaka. He was learned in scriptures and because of his knowledge, he was frequently consulted by kings. He knew his subject but his spirit was sharp and narrow. He calculated fees like a merchant and chose his patrons based on their power. When beggars came to him, he would sneer, "This is no place for empty hands and empty stomachs. Come back in your next birth as a patron.” One day, as he prepared for a grand ritual, an old man with matted locks approached him asking for food. Dambhaka scowled. “What kind of impure shadow walks in on a ritual morning? This fire is meant for gods, not flies.”
The old man smiled and said, “The gods feed on faith.”
Angered at being challenged, Dambhaka raised his voice. “Beg elsewhere! This place is for offerings, not for giving.”
The old man nodded silently, and before departing, he looked straight into Dambhaka’s eyes and said, "Your mantras are pure, but your mind is diseased. In your next birth, your flesh will rot before your eyes and the only hands that will care for you will be the ones you once disdained.”
Years passed. Dambhaka's name and fame faded. He died, a bitter old man, with no child and no companion. His soul returned in the city of Pratishthana as Kaushika.
Kaushika's Affliction and Shilavati's Devotion
In the city of Pratishthana a son was born into a brahmin family. The boy was named Kaushika. His father, Devamitra, was a humble and sincere priest.
Kaushika grew up quickly. He was intelligent, inquisitive and sharp-tongued. He absorbed the Vedas and by the time he was ten, he could recite complex mantras with precision. He would grow frustrated if corrected, disdainful of those he considered ignorant.
When he turned seventeen, he was married to Shilavati, the daughter of a Vedic scholar. She was gentle, inwardly wise, and deeply devout. Kaushika accepted her without much interest.
The couple moved into a modest home by the river. Shilavati cooked, prayed and tended to household rites. Kaushika studied, performed rituals, and began teaching a few students.
It was subtle at first. A patch of numbness on Kaushika’s hand. A paleness that didn’t go away. “Too much sun,” he thought. “A wasp sting.” But more spots appeared, which were pale, then reddish and then cracked.
Physicians came and frowned. They said to Shilavati: “It may be the white disease. Leprosy. You must prepare.”
Kaushika refused to accept it.
“I am a brahmin! I am pure by birth and rite. This cannot happen to me.”
But it did. His fingers stiffened. His feet began to ache. His skin cracked open in the dry air. The priests who once called him to rituals now hesitated to greet him. The students stopped coming for lessons.
Worse than the pain was the dependence. He had to lean on Shilavati for everything — his meals, his ointments, even dressing his wounds. She never flinched.
“You don’t understand what it is to rot while alive,” he once spat bitterly.
She merely placed cool water beside him.
Kaushika's Obsession and Shilavati's Sacrifice
As the days wore on, Kaushika’s mind began to fray. The scholar who once recited mantras now seethed with frustration. Small things provoked him. He shouted. He cursed. Sometimes he threw things. Once, in a fit of rage, he slapped her hand away as she reached to clean his infected toe.
But she, unshaken, carried on.
Shilavati massaged his feet and limbs, bathed him, clothed him, and fed him. She washed his urine, his excrement with the same dignity with which she lit the lamp at home in front of the gods.
When he wanted to go out, she would lower herself so he could lean against her back. With great effort, she would carry him — stumbling, sweating, silent. She took him around the village paths.
It was on one such day that Kaushika saw her.
A courtesan stood beneath a tree near the king's palace. As Kaushika passed by on Shilavati's back, he looked at her. He turned his head, offering a smile. Her eyes met his for a moment, and her lips curved in a brief automatic smile, the practiced acknowledgment of a woman accustomed to being observed. Yet, for Kaushika, consumed by frustration, that smile felt acutely personal, and he was blown over.
Back at home, he was silent. He pushed away his meal. He ignored the herbs Shilavati had ground for his sores.
Shilavati, sitting nearby, looked at him.
“Shall I apply the medicine?” she asked gently.
He turned his face away.
“No,” he muttered. “I don’t want anything.”
But she still came near. She still pressed the medicine into his cracked heels. She still laid the cloth over his wounds.
The sun had set. Kaushika lying on his bed called Shilavati.
“I saw a courtesan today,” he said. “She smiled at me. I want to go to her.”
Shilavati didn’t respond. She paused in folding his cloth, her hands still.
Kaushika’s eyes burned into her back. “Did you not hear me? Take me to her house.”
She turned slowly and met his gaze.
“You know your duty towards your husband,” he said, “Take me to her.”
“She looked at me,” he continued, “She smiled at me, did you hear me? She smiled at me. Not out of pity. But like a woman who....”
He gasped for breath and began coughing. Shilavati immediately got a piece of cloth and cleaned his mouth and phlegm.
“She is still in my heart. Do you understand? It is night. And still I cannot forget her,” Kaushika continued.
Shilavati knelt beside him and began arranging bandages.
“You have carried me everywhere. Now carry me to her.”
Still, she said nothing.
“Why do you not speak?” he hissed.
“I am burning,” he said. “This is a new kind of fire. You will not understand. I must see her again. Take me. If I do not see her tonight, I will die."
He began coughing and stopped for breath.
"There may be many others. She is after all well known. They may be waiting at her door step. How do I go when I cannot move my body? It keeps me from reaching her. It is this cursed form that bars me from happiness.”
“Take me to her, Shilavati. Else I will die of longing. You think I exaggerate — but I am telling you, my life is tied to her gaze. If I do not feel her arms, I will stop breathing.”
Shilavati knelt beside him. She touched his brow — it was hot. His breath was uneven.
She felt anxious and closed her eyes.
Shilavati sat still for a moment longer, her hands folded in her lap and then without a sound, she rose.
She walked to the corner of their small dwelling. A low wooden chest rested there. She opened it slowly. Inside lay her ornaments. A few bangles of gold, a pair of anklets, a nose-ring.
She gathered them all, placed the jewels in a clean piece of white cloth, tied it tightly and knotted it around her waist.
If her husband wished to be with the courtesan, then she would ensure he would not be turned away for lack of means.
She glanced once at Kaushika, lying fevered.
She walked to him and knelt.
“I will take you,” she said. “Tonight.”
He did not hear the trembling in her voice.
She steadied herself. She adjusted his robe. She cradled him gently, then shifted him onto her back and stepped out.
The wind had begun to rise. The night sky was cloudy with no moon in sight. Now and then, a streak of lightning across the sky showed the path. Shilavati continued walking.
Mandavya's Ordeal
Elsewhere in Pratishthana, Mandavya, a brahmin lived alone. He had taken a vow of silence.
One day, a few thieves, being chased by the king’s guards, came there. Their arms full of loot. They looked around and hid their stolen goods behind Mandavya, who was in deep meditation, under a pile of straw and dried leaves. Then they went and hid in the forest.
Moments later, the guards arrived. The guards found Mandavya seated cross-legged, eyes shut.
“Brahmin! Did you see which way the thieves went?”
Silence.
“Did they come here?”
Silence.
“Speak!”
Mandavya did not speak.
The guards searched the place and found the treasure. They bound Mandavya in chains and dragged him and brought him before the king.
The king heard the guards’ tale: the treasure had been found hidden in Mandavya’s ashram, and the man refused to speak. It was clear enough, the king thought. This was a thief who knew everything.
“Let him be punished like a common robber,” the king decreed. "Impale him. Let all see what fate awaits thieves in this kingdom.”
And so, Mandavya was impaled upon an iron stake outside the city gates.
Days passed. Mandavya did not die but he was suffering. He endured everything.
The Curse and Shilavati's Vow
The wind howled. Kaushika grumbled and cursed under his breath.
“Faster.”
Shilavati said nothing. She kept walking. She passed the bend in the road near the forest’s edge.
She took another step and felt resistance. It was as if Kaushika had got stuck. She then heard a groan but it was not her husband's voice.
Lightning flashed and she saw what had happened.
She stopped. Kaushika’s diseased left foot had got caught in the cloth of a man impaled on a tall iron stake. It was Mandavya. He opened his mouth and screamed, "Evil person who kicked me with his left foot and added to my suffering. When the first ray of the sun touches you, you will die.”
Shilavati slowly bent her knees and lowered her husband to the ground with great care. She then looked at the sky and closed her eyes.
She then said, "If I’ve been loyal to my husband, if I’ve done everything a wife should — cared for him, carried him, cleaned his wounds, fed him, and never once turned away — then let that truth be enough. If I’ve upheld my duty in every way, I ask just one thing: let the sun stay where it is. Don’t let it rise.”
The sky remained dark and the sun did not rise.
Philosophical Core
Kaushika’s Fall: From Knowledge to Arrogance
- Transformation of Dambhaka into Kaushika is an illustration of how knowledge without humility or compassion leads to spiritual downfall. True Brahmin hood is not in birth or intellect, but in conduct and inner purity. Kaushika’s leprosy is symbolic of spiritual rot—a disease not just of the body but of ego and inner impurity. His decay shows the decline of his persona due to a corrupted mind.
Shilavati’s Devotion
- Shilavati exemplifies the unconditional duty and loyalty of a wife, even when the husband becomes morally, emotionally, and physically degrading. Her devotion is not passive submission but an active, spiritual strength. Her vow halting the sun represents how even universal laws yield to the force of dharma. Her endurance is a metaphor for the power of selfless love.
Mandavya’s Curse
Mandavya's impalement represents unjust suffering and challenges the notion of justice. In Mahabharata, Mandavya later confronts Yama for unfair karmic retribution. His curse ironically reveals how even the righteous can become instruments of further suffering when caught in the wheel of karma.
The Sun's Arrest: Order vs. Dharma
- Shilavati’s stoppage of the sun shows the immense power of personal virtue and the precedence of individual dharma over cosmic routine. The sun (time, order) pauses in the face of intimate, personal truth. The paused sunrise represents the suspension of worldly function to make space for divine reconsideration.
References in Other Scriptures
Mandavya’s Story – Mahabharata (Anusasana Parva)
Mandavya confronts Yama, questioning the injustice of his punishment. Yama says Mandavya had impaled insects in childhood, hence the suffering. Mandavya then curses Yama to be born as Vidura (Mahabharata), highlighting the fallibility of divine justice and the power of sage’s will.
Relevance in Today’s World
Kaushika's downfall is seen today in experts who lack empathy. Knowledge must serve others, not inflate ego.
Shilavati represents unacknowledged caregivers tending to ill loved ones, silently bearing emotional and physical burdens. Her example uplifts the dignity of invisible service.
Mandavya’s ordeal mirrors modern judicial failures. Wrongful punishments and systemic injustice persist. His silence speaks for the voiceless condemned by institutions.
The stoppage of the sun symbolizes how individuals can challenge oppressive norms or unstoppable machines when rooted in moral clarity.
Key Takeaways
- Don’t worship rituals; embody their essence.
- Look within and cleanse arrogance, even if veiled by learning.
- Take strength from Shilavati. Let love and service be seen as acts of power, not passivity.
- Channel the resolve of Mandavya and Shilavati. Stand for dharma, even when institutions or the cosmos seem against you.
- Reflect: Where is your Kaushika? Your Shilavati? Your Mandavya?
- What personal truth am I willing to stand for, even if it halts the sun?
This tale from the Markandeya Purana is a mirror. It reveals the layers of dharma and the consequences of inner impurity despite outer piety. It holds up Shilavati as a timeless archetype of quiet, invincible virtue, and reminds us that truthful living carries a power greater than the laws of time and space.
Let us honour that power in our own lives—with humility, courage, and unwavering dharma. In every home, there is a Shilavati; in every injustice, a Mandavya; and in every broken soul, a Kaushika waiting for redemption.
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