Jaratkaru Discovers His Ancestors in Peril
The ascetic Jaratkaru, wandering the earth under a vow of extreme austerity, finds his own ancestors hanging upside down in a cave, clinging to a single, fraying strand of grass. They explain they are doomed to fall into hell because Jaratkaru, the last of their line, is celibate and has no son. They give him a message to deliver to himself: he must take a wife and beget an heir to save them.
Jaratkaru was an ascetic of terrible resolve. He had adopted a vow of sleeping wherever evening found him, roaming the entire earth, bathing in sacred waters, and living on air alone. His body was dried out, his life reduced to the single, relentless pursuit of austerities.
One day, he saw a sight that stopped him. In a cave, a group of emaciated, wretched figures hung suspended, head downwards. They clung to a single strand of grass. A rat that lived in the cave was gnawing at the root of that strand with sharp teeth, weakening it bit by bit. Soon, the little that remained would break, and they would fall.
Jaratkaru, himself in a wretched state, approached these wretched ones. He was distressed. "Who are you?" he asked. "Seeing you hang upside down like this, I am extremely distressed. How can I help? Tell me quickly if I can prevent this calamity by giving you a quarter, a third, or even half of my austerities. Or if you can be saved with all of my austerities, I am willing to do that."
The ancestors replied, "O Brahmana, you are old and celibate, and you wish to deliver us. But you cannot save us with your austerities. Our state is the outcome of austerities. We are descending into this hell because of a lack of offspring."
They explained who they were. They were rishis named yayavaras, rigid in their vows, but they had been cast out from the holy regions because they had no descendants. Their own sacred austerities had not been entirely destroyed—that was the single strand of grass left. But it mattered little whether it existed or not. Their lineage had been reduced to a single thread.
"He is known as Jaratkaru," they said. "He is learned in the Vedas and the Vedangas. He is great-souled, rigid in his vows, a great ascetic, and in control of his senses. But in his greed for austerities, he has reduced us to this state. He has no wife, no son, and no relatives. That is why we are hanging here, like those without protectors."
They interpreted the vision for him. The single strand of grass was the strand of their family lineage. The parts being eaten away were being consumed by time. The half-eaten root from which they all hung was the last of their lineage—Jaratkaru himself—still practising austerities. The rat was time, immensely powerful, slowly killing the misguided Jaratkaru, who was greedy for austerities but had lost his mind and senses.
"His austerities cannot deliver us," they said. "Our roots have been destroyed. Look at us descend downwards into hell like sinners. Severed by time, he too will descend into hell." They gave him their learned view: austerities, sacrifices, and other sacred acts were all inferior to obtaining offspring.
Then they gave him the message. "If you meet him, out of kindness for us, tell him that his wretched ancestors are hanging head downwards from a cave. Tell that holy one that he should have a wife and offspring. O Brahmana, if you wish to be our protector, describe in detail what you have witnessed to him and deliver our message."
Jaratkaru had been given a message to deliver to himself. The quest to save his ancestors—and himself—from a fall into hell had begun. It would lead him to seek a wife, a quest that would end with the serpent-maid Vasuki.