Gandharva Narrates the Origin of Tapati and Samvarana
In response to Arjuna’s question, the Gandharva begins to tell the story of Tapati. He describes her divine beauty, her father Surya’s search for a worthy husband, and the virtuous King Samvarana. The tale builds to their fateful, wordless meeting on a mountainside, which ends not in union, but in sudden disappearance and profound grief.
The Gandharva began his story.
“O Partha! O chief among those who follow dharma! I will tell you this virtuous and wonderful story exactly as it happened. Listen attentively, and you will understand why I have called you Tapatya.”
He started with her origin. The one who pervades the entire firmament with his energy — Surya, the sun god — had a daughter named Tapati. She was his equal in radiance, born after Savitri, and famous across the three worlds for her austerities. Her beauty was unmatched. Among gods, asuras, yakshas, rakshasas, apsaras, and gandharvas, there was no one like her. She was symmetrical in form, unblemished in feature, with large black eyes, dressed in beautiful garments, pure in conduct.
Seeing her grow to marriageable age, her father Vivasvat (another name for Surya) found no peace of mind. He looked across the three worlds and could find no one with beauty, conduct, learning, and qualities equal to hers — no one worthy to be her husband.
“O Kounteya!” the Gandharva continued. “There was a mighty king named Samvarana, son of Riksha, a bull among the Kurus.” This king always worshipped the sun. With offerings, garlands, fasts, rituals, and various austerities, Puru’s descendant worshipped the rising sun with devotion, obedience, selflessness, and purity.
Surya saw him. He saw that Samvarana was learned in the path of dharma and was unparalleled on earth for his handsomeness. Surya decided: this was the best husband for Tapati. He desired to give his daughter to this supreme king, whose lineage was already famous.
The Gandharva painted Samvarana’s glory. Just as the blazing rays of the sun suffuse the sky, King Samvarana filled the earth with his splendour. Just as those who know the brahman (the ultimate reality) worship the rising sun, all his subjects — except the Brahmanas themselves — worshipped Samvarana. The king surpassed the moon in benevolence towards friends and the sun in scorching his enemies. Tapan — the Scorcher, another name for Surya — himself decided that Tapati should be given to a king of such virtue.
“O Partha! It is told that once, this king, blessed with great good fortune and immensely famous, went out to hunt in the woods on the slopes of a mountain.”
While hunting, his unequalled horse, overcome with hunger and thirst, died on that mountain. Abandoning the dead horse, the king walked on foot. And there, on the mountain, he saw a lady.
She had large eyes and was unrivalled in the worlds in beauty. The king was alone. The lady was also alone.
He stood motionless and stared at her with an unwavering gaze. Her beauty made him think she might be Shri, the goddess of prosperity. He thought again that her beauty was the manifestation of the sun’s rays on earth. The black-eyed lady stood on the mountain slope, among trees and creepers, like a statue of gold.
Having seen her, the king became contemptuous of all other beings. He felt his eyes had now accomplished their purpose. Nothing he had seen from birth could rival her. He thought the creator had made her beauty after churning together the worlds of gods, asuras, and men.
The king’s heart and mind were tied up in the noose of her perfection. Deprived of his senses, he was rooted to the spot. He decided her beauty was unmatched in the three worlds.
As soon as he saw her, the king of noble lineage was pierced by the arrows of the god of love. Burning with desire, he spoke to the illustrious lady, who was an adult but still innocent.
“O lady with thighs like that of a plantain tree! Who are you? Who do you belong to? Why have you come here? O lady with the beautiful smile! Why are you wandering alone in this lonely forest? You are unblemished in every limb and adorned in every ornament. You are like a coveted ornament to those ornaments themselves. You don’t seem to be a goddess or an asuri, or a yakshi or a rakshasi, or a nagini or a gandharvi, or a human. O supreme among beautiful ones! None of the beautiful women I have seen, or heard of, can match you.”
Struck by desire, the ruler of the earth spoke to her in the lonely forest.
She did not utter a word in reply.
The king kept asking. And then, the large-eyed lady vanished. Like a flash of lightning, she was gone.
Like one who had lost his senses, the king wandered the forest, searching for the lady with lotus-like eyes. He failed to find her. That best of the Kuru lineage lamented a lot. For a long time, he remained motionless in grief.