Book review
Somadeva’s Kathasaritsagara, the Epics, the Puranas, as well as folklore are among the sources of India’s long tradition of storytelling. Down the ages, they have nourished creative expression, from Tulsi’s Ramayana and Michael Madhusudan Dutt’s Megnadvadh Kavya to Salman Rushdie’s Stories of Haroun and Tharoor’s Great Indian Novel. The present selection represents the author’s explorations of this rich and ancient offering.

In this book Radice brings together his own retellings and other translations of 132 best-loved and popular myths, legends and folktales. Besides Hindu narratives, included are number of Muslim, Buddhist, Jain, Syrian Christian and tribal tales. Stories of ‘The Churning of the Ocean’, ‘Draupadi’s Svayamvara’, ‘The Seduction of Ahalya’ flow along with those of the ‘The Blind Fakir’, ‘St Thomas’ Arm’ and ‘Buddha and the Tigress’. The tales offer a kaleidoscope of living India, with its commonly-held beliefs of vast eras or yugas, the stages of life, tapas, rebirth and nirvana, besides a celebration of eroticism.

Aware of the essentially oral nature of India’s story-telling tradition, Radice shows how popular performers make stories come alive by appending some embroidery, jokes, drama, and suspense to them. In these retellings he tries to feel his way into the stories chosen and to convey in English some of these emotions and humour of the original.

Combining scholarly rigour with masterly narration, Myths and Legends of India is a brilliant collection. Doubtless, it will be loved by readers of all ages, anywhere, for a long, long time.

| HardCover
Format: Royal | 816 pages |


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Sample

The Creation of Death
When Brahma also known as Prajapati, grandfather of all first created living things, there was no death in the world, and earth, water and air soon became terribly crowded. Brahma knew that he would have to find a way of culling his creatures, but he couldn’t think how. The frustration of this made him angry, and from the force of his anger fire burst out of all the openings of his body. The fire scorched and tortured and ultimately destroyed all life but was that a solution to the problem?
Rudra also known as Siva came to Brahma and said, ‘You see what pain and catastrophe your anger is causing! Your fire is burning up everything, destroying it totally, reducing the world to ashes. The creatures you created have been totally annihilated, and can never return. And the whole universe will have to be created anew. Is this what you want?’
‘Can you suggest an alternative?’ said Brahma. ‘I don’t want to des-troy all Creation. But you saw how crowded the world was Earth herself came to me, pleading with me to lessen her burden. I couldn’t think of a way, my frustration made me angry, my anger produced fire, and so this happened. I should like to grant you a boon, so if you can think of some favour I can do you which would also help the world, please tell me.’

‘What you need’, said Siva, ‘is a way of ending individual lives without destroying all life. You also need the means whereby souls can be passed on from one life to another otherwise there will be no connection between the generations. By destroying your creatures completely, you are cutting them off from their descendants. Birth and death should repeat they should not be final.’

The thought of this calmed Brahma. His anger died down, and with it the fire of his anger, and instead of fire the openings of his body brought forth a dark woman, with red clothes and red lac on her soles and palms, and heavenly ornaments and earrings. She knelt before Brahma, who said, ‘Death if that is who you are please kill all my creatures. Not at once, but one by one. Kill them all without exception.’

The woman was frail in body and her eyes were wide. Grief bent
her like a plant, and she said, ‘How, O lord, can you ask me to do so terrible a thing? It cannot be right it is against all law and dharma. I weep and sicken at heart as I think of all the suffering I shall cause if you ask me to do this tragic work. The sons and daughters and mothers and fathers and wives and husbands and friends who will mourn are already filling my mind with their lamentations. Grant me a boon, O lord, and may the boon be not to do what you ask.’

‘I made you, Death,’ said Brahma, ‘in order to bring death into the world, to relieve its crowding, to lighten its burden. Your work will not be sinful: it will be in keeping with dharma, not against it.’

The woman stayed silent, bowing before the Creator, imploring him with her prayers. Brahma took pity on her, and let her slip away, though he knew she must eventually do as he commanded.

She went to a place of pilgrimage, and performed extreme austerities, in the hope that Brahma would be pleased and would release her from his command. She stood for fifteen thousand million years on one foot, but Brahma still said, when she returned to him, ‘Do as I command.’ She then stood on the other foot for twenty thousand million years; then she lived among wild animals for ten million years, and for twenty thousand years lived on nothing but air, and for a further eight thousand years she stood in water, not saying a word. But none of these austerities made Brahma relent.

At last he could wait no longer for her to agree willingly. But her sorrow and tears moved him sorely, and he said, ‘Death, I have told you before and I tell you again, there will be nothing unrighteous, nothing sinful in what I ask you to do. By bringing death into the world, you will order it, regulate it, make it conform to dharma. But your tears have a purpose, and I shall use them thus. They will become the diseases that will afflict all creatures when their time for death comes. Those diseases are cruel, and will make you weep even more; but they are necessary, for otherwise lives cannot end.’

Death knew, when he said this, that she could resist his command no longer. She went out into the world, to kill its creatures, and the tears she unceasingly shed were the diseases from which they died.


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King Yayati’s Adultery
Like the story of Sakuntala, the story of King Yayati is told by Vaisampayana to his grandson, King Janamejaya, in order to explain the genealogy of the Bharata race. The Pauravas, ancestors of the Pandavas and Kauravas, were descended from Yayati’s son Puru, who was also the father of Janamejaya.

Devayani’s father Sukra is not a mortal. He is the son of Bhrigu, one of the ten high priests who were allowed by the primal law-giver Manu to be sole possessors of the knowledge of how to kindle the sacrificial fire. Sukra became guru to the Danavas (titans) and Asuras (anti-gods). As such, he knows the mantra that can bring the dead back to life. This is why the curse he delivers to Yayati is so powerful.

Although Puru is Yayati’s son by his mistress Sarmishtha and not by his wife Devayani, the boy’s obedience and self-sacrifice win him his father’s throne, and secure the Paurava line.

A long time after this occurred, O best of kings (Vaisampayana went on), the lovely lady Devayani went to the same forest to enjoy herself.

She came to the same spot. With her were Sarmishtha and the thousand maids. She gave herself up to pleasure;
She was very happy, having so many maids to wait on her. They were all in a frivolous mood; they began sipping the honey of the flowers;

They nibbled at various fruits. King Yayati, son of Nahusha, in the course of a hunting expedition,

Happened to come there, tired and thirsty. His eyes fell on Devayani and Sarmishtha and the thousand maids,
Glittering with ornaments,
tipsy with flower-honey,
sweet-smiling Devayani,
voluptuously reclining,
Paragon of beauty,
loveliest of them all,
and Sarmishtha beside her,
gently massaging her feet.
‘Gracious ladies,’ said Yayati,
‘It seems these thousand maids
wait on you. Who are you?
Who are your parents?’
‘I am the daughter of Sukra,’
replied Devayani.
‘My father is the preceptor
of the Danavas and Asuras.
This girl here is my maid,
who goes wherever I go;
she is Sarmishtha, daughter
of the Asura king, Vrishaparva.’
‘Strange why should this lady
of lovely eyebrows, be your maid?
Why should the daughter of the Asura king
be your maidservant?’
‘Fate,’ replied Devayani,
‘fate is behind everything.
Do not be astonished, sir
this too is Fate’s work.
Your dress and your features, sir,
are those of a king.
Your words like the Vedas. Who are you?
From where? Whose son?’
‘When I was a Brahmachari,’
Yayati replied,
‘I learnt the Vedas. I am a king,
and the son of a king. I am Yayati.’
‘Why are you here, your majesty?’
asked Devayani.
‘Is it to gather lotuses,
to fish, perhaps to hunt?’
I was hunting deer, gracious girl,’
he said, ‘I felt thirsty,
and came here for water. If you wish,
I will leave immediately.’
‘Far from it, your majesty!
Stay here and be my lord.
With me are a thousand maids
and my personal maid Sarmishtha.’
‘Lovely lady, I don’t deserve you.
You are far above me,
you are Sukra’s daughter. He dare not
bestow you even on a great king.’
‘Brahmins have married Kshatriyas before,’
she said, ‘and Kshatriyas Brahmins.
You are a rishi’s son, and yourself a rishi.
Son of Nahusha, marry me.’
‘Granted, lovely lady, the four castes
sprang from one body, but
their duties and natures differ.
The Brahmin is certainly superior.’
‘No one’, said Devayani,
‘has touched my hand except you.
For that reason alone,
I accept you as my husband.
Tell me, how will anyone else
touch my hand
which has once been touched
by a person no less than a rishi?’
Yayati said, ‘Wise men say
a Brahmin is more terrible
than a roused poisonous snake
or an engulfing fire.’
‘Why, sir,’ asked Devayani,
‘is a Brahmin more terrible
than a roused poisonous snake
or an engulfing fire?’
‘A snake kills one person.
The sharpest weapon kills one person.
But an angered Brahmin
destroys cities and kingdoms.
Therefore, lovely lady, I say
a Brahmin’s more terrible.
Sweet lady, I cannot marry you
unless your father approves.’
‘I chose you,’ said Devayani.
‘You did not ask for me.
It is settled then you will marry me,
humble as I am, if my father approves.’
She quickly sent a maid to her father (continued Vaisampayana), and the maid reported all that had happened to Sukra.
Sukra hurried to the king. Yayati saw him approaching, bowed respectfully, and stood before him with joined palms, awaiting his advice.
‘Father,’ said Devayani,
‘this is Nahusha’s son,
who touched my hand in the well.
I will not marry any other man.’
‘Noble and brave king!’ said Sukra,
‘My daughter has chosen you,
and I gladly bestow her on you.
Accept her as your wife.’
Yayati said, ‘O great Brahmin,
grant me the favour
of being free of the taint
of an inter-caste marriage.’
‘I shall do so,’ replied Sukra.
‘Do not fear to marry her.
I hereby absolve you of the taint
of an inter-caste marriage.
Regard her with dharma, Devayani,
slender-waisted beauty.
May great happiness be yours
in the company of my daughter.
And as for Sarmishtha,
treat her well, O king:
she is Vrishaparva’s daughter.
But do not call her to your bed.’
Yayati respectfully half-circled the great Brahmin, and passed through the marriage ceremony according to the rites ordained in the Sastras.

He received from Sukra the priceless treasure of Devayani, along with Sarmishtha and a thousand maids.

Honoured by Sukra and the anti-gods, he returned to his capital, keeping in mind the advice of the shining son of Bhrigu.


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Vaisampayana continued: Yayati entered his capital (which was like the capital of Indra himself), and took his wife Devayani to the inner apartments.
At Devayani’s suggestion, he ordered the construction of a house for Sarmishtha in the Asoka grove of his gardens.
He honoured Sarmishtha by ordering a thousand maids to attend on her and by making every arrangement for her food and garments.
And many years passed with Yayati, son of Nahusha, happily enjoying the company of Devayani.
The lovely lady Devayani conceived when her season came, and gave birth to a son.
A thousand years passed. Sarmishtha, daughter of Vrishaparva, attained puberty. During her period, she thought:
‘I am in my period.
But I haven’t chosen a husband.
What will happen? What should I do?
How will I get what I want?
Devayani has a son.
But my youth is wasted.
I will choose him as husband
whom Devayani chose.
I will bear his son.
My mind is made up.
He is a considerate king
he will let me meet him in private.’
One day the king happened casually to pass by the Asoka grove. Seeing Sarmishtha there, he stopped.
Sarmishtha, sweet-smiling lady, saw that they were alone together, joined her palms in greeting, and said:
‘O son of Nahusha,
no one sees the ladies in the inner apartments
of Soma, Indra, Vishnu, Yama and Varuna
you are like them in this respect.
Your majesty, I am of noble birth,
I am considered beautiful.
I am in my period.
O let me not be wasted!’
Yayati replied:
‘I know you are nobly born,
in the race of the Danavas.
Your beauty is ravishing.
There isn’t the least fault in you.
But Devayani’s father’s words to me, when I married her, were: “Do not call Vrishaparva’s daughter to your bed.” ’
Sarmishtha replied: ‘Five kinds of lying are excusable: when joking, when enjoying a woman, at the time of marriage, when facing death, and when one has lost all one’s wealth.
It isn’t true that only that person suffers who doesn’t tell the truth when asked. It is also wrong sometimes to tell a lie simply to get an immediate aim accomplished.’
‘A king should always set an example to his subjects,’ Yayati said. ‘A king who lies invites his own ruin. I dare not lie, even under fear of the direst loss!’
Sarmishtha continued, ‘When a friend marries, it’s as if oneself marries. My friend has chosen you as her husband. You are my husband too.’
‘True, I have taken a vow to grant whatever is asked,’ said Yayati. ‘And now you ask me this . . . You tell me, what should I do?’
‘Save me from loss of dharma,’
said Sarmishtha.
‘Be lord of my virtue,
make me a mother,
that I may practise the highest dharma.
A wife, a slave, a son,
do not earn for themselves:
whatever they earn
belongs to whoever is their lord.
I am Devayani’s slave,
you are Devayani’s lord;
you are therefore my lord.
I beg of you:
do as I ask you.’
These words of Sarmishtha persuaded the king to believe what whatever she spoke was true. He did as asked, and saved her from loss of dharma.
They lovingly came together, and lovingly parted, each returning to where each stayed.
Sweet-smiling Sarmishtha
of lovely eyebrows
conceived as a result
of that union with the king.
And in due time,
to the lotus-eyed lady
was born a god-like son,
radiant, with lotus-leaf eyes.


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When Devayani learnt of the birth of this boy (continued Vaisampayana) she became jealous and mean. She went to Sarmishtha and said:
‘Sarmishtha, lovely-eyebrowed girl, what terrible wrong have you committed by indulging your lust!’
Sarmishtha replied, ‘A dharma-souled rishi came to me, a rishi learned in the Vedas. He had the power of granting boons, and I asked him to grant me one, a pure one.
Sweet-smiling lady, I would not dream of fulfilling my desires by wrongful means. My son is the child of a rishi this is the truth.’
‘In that case, shy Sarmishtha, I will not blame you,’ said Devayani. ‘Who is this rishi? what is his name and family? tell me.’
‘Sweet-smiling lady,’ replied Sarmishtha, ‘that rishi shone like the sun, his asceticism had radiance. I hadn’t the courage to ask him.’
‘If what you say is true, if indeed your son has been fathered by such a Brahmin, I have no reason to be angry with you,’ said Devayani.
They laughed and chatted for some time; and Devayani returned to her mansion, believing all that Sarmishtha had told her.
Devayani had two more sons by Yayati Yadu and Turvasu; they were like Indra and Vishnu.
And Sarmishtha, daughter of Vrishaparva, by that royal rishi had three sons: Druhyu, Anu and Puru.
One day, sweet-smiling Devayani went with Yayati for a walk in a secluded part of the royal gardens.
There she saw three children of divine beauty, happily playing. Surprised, she said to the king:
‘Whose children are these?
They are handsome just like
children of the gods like you!’
She turned to the children: ‘Who is your father, little ones? Tell me. Where do you live?’
They pointed their fingers at the king (continued Vaisampayana) and indicated that Sarmishtha was their mother.
And they ran towards their father and clasped his knees. But the king dared not caress them in front of Devayani.
Sobbing, they left the place, and went to find their mother. Their behaviour embarrassed the king greatly.
From the affection of the boys, Devayani guessed the truth. She went to Sarmishtha and said:
‘You are dependent on me,
and yet you insult me like this!
Aren’t you ashamed at all?
to behave in this monstrous fashion!’
Sarmishtha replied:
‘Sweet-smiling lady,
all I said about the rishi is true.
What I did was perfectly
in accordance with dharma.
I am not afraid of you.
When you chose him as your husband,
I chose him too. Lovely lady,
according to dharma, a friend’s husband
is one’s own husband.
You are a Brahmin’s daughter
so I respect you.
But don’t you know how much more
I respect the royal sage?’
Devayani listened; and said,
‘You have wronged me.
I refuse to stay here any more.’
She went with tears in her eyes
to her father. The king was alarmed
to see her so angry.
Apprehensive, he followed her,
trying to placate her.
She would not return.
Her eyes flashed with anger;
She refused to speak to him.
Weeping, she stood before her father,
Sukra, son of Bhrigu.
She bowed before him respectfully,
and stood before him. Yayati
stood behind her, and
bowed respectfully too.
Devayani said, ‘Father,
Adharma’s defeated dharma!
The low rise, the high fall.
I have been insulted
by Vrishaparva’s daughter.
This king here, Yayati,
has three sons by her;
and me unfortunate me
I have only two.
Son of Bhrigu, they say
this king knows dharma.
But I tell you, father,
he has violated dharma.’
Sukra said, ‘If you have willingly chosen the path of adharma, O king, no matter how conversant you are with the precepts of dharma, great ruin will fall on you.’
Yayati replied, ‘The daughter of the king of the anti-gods came to me after her period, and implored me. Noble rishi, I fulfilled her desire from a sense of dharma.
Those learned in the Vedas declare that a man who does not grant the request of a woman after her period commits foeticide.
The man who is secretly solicited by an amorous woman after her period and refuses to fulfil her desire loses dharma. The wise say he commits foeticide.
This was why, O son of Bhrigu, I obliged Sarmishtha. I was afraid I would be committing a great wrong otherwise.’
Sukra said, ‘You could have waited till I approved. My conditions were clear. Because, O son of Nahusha, you have not been true to your pledge, you are guilty of theft.’
Sukra then cursed him, stripping him of his youthfulness, and casting decrepitude on him.
Yayati pleaded:
‘I am young, O son of Bhrigu,
I haven’t had my fill of youth
Or of Devayani. Be merciful,
O Brahmin. Take age away from me.’
Sukra said:
‘I never speak pointlessly.
Old age will overcome you.
If you wish, however, you may
exchange it with a willing man.’
‘Make this condition then, O Brahmin,’ said Yayati, ‘that whichever of my sons accepts my old age will enjoy my kingdom and gain dharma and fame.’
‘Son of Nahusha,’ replied Sukra, ‘keep me in mind and you will be able to effect the transfer of your old age on to a willing man.
Whichever of your sons exchanges his youth with you will be your successor. He will have long life, universal fame, and a large progeny.’


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Afflicted with decaying old age, Yayati returned to his capital (continued Vaisampayana). He called his eldest and most gifted son Yadu to him and said:
‘My child, I am old.
Sukra, son of Bhrigu, has cursed me
with wrinkles and white hair
and I haven’t even had my fill of youth.
Yadu,
take this old age and decay.
With your youth,
let me enjoy life.
After one thousand years,
I will return your youth
and take back my old age
and its debility.’
‘Old age’, replied Yadu,
‘makes eating and drinking inconvenient.
I am sorry, father,
I cannot accept your offer.
Old age brings
white hair, listlessness,
weak nerves, tiredness,
emaciation; friends and dependants
forsake an old man.
You have many sons, sire,
some dearer to you than I.
Ask one of them, father,
to take your old age.’
‘Child of my heart,’
said Yayati, ‘yet you
will not give me your youth.
May your children never rule!
Turvasu, take my old age
and its attendant defects.
Let me enjoy life
with your youth.
After one thousand years,
I will return your youth,
and take back my old age
and its debility.’
‘Father,’ replied Turvasu,
‘I don’t much care for old age.
It blights gaiety and pleasure,
strength, beauty, mind, memory
even life itself.’
‘Child of my heart,’
said Yayati, ‘yet you
will not give me your youth.
May your line become extinct!
And you, Turvasu,
may you be the foolish king
of ill-thinking, ill-doing subjects,
of women of noble birth
breeding children by low-class men;
of meat-eaters, malice-mongers,
Rapists of wives of superiors,
like birds and beasts in behaviour,
all miscreants, all Mlecchas.’
When he had finished cursing his son Turvasu, he turned to Sarmishtha’s son Druhyu, and said:
‘Druhyu, take a thousand years
of my spoiler-of-loveliness,
blotcher-of-skin old age.
Give me your youth.
After one thousand years,
I will return your youth
and take back my old age
and its debility.’
‘Father,’ replied Druhyu,
‘an old man cannot ride
elephants, horses, chariots, and women.
His voice squeaks. I am sorry.’
‘Child of my heart,’
said Yayati, ‘yet you
will not give me your youth.
May your wishes never be fulfilled!
Be a king only in name!
Rule a kingdom without roads,
without passages for horses,
Elephants, asses, goats, bullocks
or palanquins; only rafts and boats.
There live with your friends!
Anu, take my old age
and its weaknesses.
With your youth
let me enjoy a thousand years.’
‘Old men’, replied Anu,
‘slobber like infants, and are filthy.
They cannot pour libations in the yajna.
You must excuse me, father.’
‘Child of my heart,’
said Yayati, ‘yet you
will not give me your youth.
Old age fault-finder, may old age overtake you!
May your sons die
as soon as they reach of age!
May you be unable
to perform any yajna!
Puru, my youngest, my dearest,
you will excel them all.
Look, child, old age,
wrinkles, white hair
The result of Sukra’s curse
and I haven’t even had my fill of youth.
Puru, take my old age and its weaknesses.
Let me enjoy a thousand years with your youth.
After one thousand years,
I will return your youth
and take back my old age
and its debility.’
Puru heard carefully,
and replied humbly,
‘Noble father, I will do
what you command me.
I will take on myself
your old age and its debility.
Take my youth, and
enjoy life for a thousand years.
Afflicted with old age,
deprived of youth and beauty,
I will live at your command,
and give you my youth.’
‘Puru, my child, I am happy,’
said Yayati. ‘Take this boon:
may the subjects of your kingdom
have all their desires fulfilled.’
He called to mind the great ascetic, Sukra, son of Bhrigu, and projected his crumbling age into the body of his mahatma son Puru.


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Vaisampayana continued: Yayati, son of Nahusha, took the youth of Puru, and rejoiced. He began to indulge himself sensually.
He enjoyed himself as much as his energy permitted, in all variety of ways and in all seasons. He took care, however, not to transgress the bounds of dharma.
He pleased the gods by performing many yajnas, the pitris by sraddhas, the poor by his charity, the Brahmins by giving them whatever they desired,
The guests by lavish hospitality, the Vaisyas by vigilant protection, the Sudras by kindness, and the robbers by appropriate punishment.
Yayati pleased all his subjects by ruling wisely and well, even as Indra does.
He had leonine strength; he was young; he tasted all the pleasures of life. His joys were unbounded, and he did not transgress the dictates of dharma.
The fact that he was able to enjoy all the sensual delights life had to oVer thrilled him; his only sorrow was that the thousand years would soon come to an end.
That royal rishi, wise in the mystery of time and enormously gifted in every way, had youth at his command for one thousand years; he kept an eye on kalas and kashthas;
He made love to the Apsaras Visvaci sometimes in the garden called
Nandana, sometimes in Alaka, and sometimes on the high slopes of the mountain Meru.
And, in due time, he discovered that his time was over. He called Puru to his side, and said to him:
‘Son, foe-vanquisher,
I have enjoyed all I could,
to the best of my powers,
everything, in all seasons.
Desire never ends,
desire grows with feeding,
like sacrificial flames
lapping up ghee.
Become the sole lord of
the world’s paddy-fields, wheat-fields,
precious stones, beasts, women
still not enough.
Discard desire.
This disease kills. The wicked
cannot give it up, old age
cannot lessen it. True happiness
lies in controlling it.
For one thousand years,
my mind lusted for pleasures.
Now, instead of resting,
I lust for more pleasure.
I must overcome it!
Fixing my thoughts on Brahma,
cultivating detachment, I
will live with the gentle forest deer.
Puru, my son, I am pleased with you.
Take back your youth, take
my kingdom. May you prosper!
You have taught me a lesson.’
Yayati, son of Nahusha, took back his old age, and Puru, his son, recovered his youth.
And Yayati was eager to install his youngest son Puru on the throne. But all the four castes of his kingdom, headed by Brahmins, protested.
‘Your majesty, how can you install Puru on the throne, bypassing your eldest son Yadu, Devayani’s son, Sukra’s grandson?
Yadu is your eldest son; after him, Turvasu; then were born Sarmishtha’s sons, Druhyu, Anu and Puru.
Is it proper for you to ignore the rights of the elder sons and choose the youngest? Our considered opinion is you should act according to the dictates of dharma.’
‘Listen to me, all of you belonging to the four castes, led by Brahmins,’ said Yayati. ‘I will explain why my kingdom should not go to my eldest son.
My eldest son disobeyed me. All wise men agree that a son who disobeys his father is no son at all.
The best son is he who obeys his father and mother, who is dutiful, who loves them, and is always seeking their welfare.
Yadu and Turvasu slighted me; Druhyu and Anu treated me flippantly.
Only Puru listened to me. I was respected and honoured by him. He accepted my old age. He is the youngest, yet he deserves to be king.
Puru is my friend he did what pleased me. Besides, I was granted this privilege by the son of Bhrigu, Sukra himself
To make the son who obeyed me king of my subjects. I submit to you, therefore, that Puru should receive the crown.’
The people said, ‘It is true, your majesty, that the son who is gifted and seeks his parents’ welfare deserves to be honoured, though he may be the youngest.
Puru has sought your welfare, and deserves the kingdom. And since Sukra himself has instructed to this eVect, we have nothing against it.’
Finding his subjects agreeable, the son of Nahusha installed his son Puru on the throne.
He left the kingdom in Puru’s care and, resolving to live in the forest, set out from his capital, accompanied by Brahmins and rishis.
Yadu’s sons were called the Yadavas, Turvasu’s sons the Yavanas, Druhyu’s Bhojas, Anu’s Mlecchas;
And the sons of Puru were known as the Pauravas the dynasty, sire, in which you are born to rule over the country for a thousand years.