Parasurama

Parasurama

The day was beautiful and the sun was high in the sky. Everything seemed to express happiness and absence of problems. Sita and Rama, contemplating each other, were talking about a thousand things. But even in that moment of joy, danger was lurking. It is probably the very nature of this world: the innocence of each step hides a potential danger. Suddenly a strong wind rose and the sky darkened: the horses, frightened, neighed loudly. Dasaratha looked at Sumantra.

“This is not a normal storm. The day is calm and a few moments ago there was not a breath of wind. There are many signs that portend danger.”

Sumantra, too, felt the anxiety build up in him.

“Yes, it’s true. Something is about to happen. Let’s watch.”

Suddenly, it got dark. Thunder broke out and a moment later daylight came back. Illuminated by a light of glory, Parasurama, the divine incarnation that had exterminated all the races of kshatriyas twenty-one times, stood before them, firmly holding his axe in his mighty hand. His eyes were fiery; his figure and even his very name terrified any warrior. Parasurama had stopped in the middle of the path and prevented them from continuing their journey. The soldiers of Dasaratha trembled with fear, because they well knew the fame of the invincible Parasurama. The brahmanas murmured:

“What will Jamadagni’s son want from us? Will he perhaps want to restart the extermination of the kshatriyas? His revenge was done a long time ago; what could he want from us?”

Dasaratha promptly got off the chariot and offered all honors to the brahmana who one day adopted the life of the warrior. But it was evident that Parasurama had a very specific purpose to stop the king’s column. And his voice was heard, resolute, solemn.

“Where is your son Rama?”

Rama took a step forward and bowed his head in respect. Parasurama looked at him.

“You have committed the sacrilege of breaking Shiva’s bow, and I must punish you for it.”

Dasaratha was terrified. He tried to speak to the mighty brahmana, but he ignored him: he had eyes only for Rama.

“There is a bow similar to the one you broke,” Parasurama continued. “Those two bows were made by Visvakarma and served in the fight that was to decide who was the strongest between Vishnu and Shiva. I don’t understand how you could have broken that bow, but I want to see if you can even hold the other one in your hand.”

With a deafening roar, Vishnu’s weapon appeared in Parasurama’s hand. He handed it to the prince, serene despite the looming danger. Rama took it effortlessly, looking at it calmly, devoid of any anxiety. Parasurama was amazed: how could that young prince, after breaking Shiva’s bow, hold Vishnu’s in his hand? Then he understood: only Vishnu himself could do such a thing. And the two disappeared from everyone’s sight.

“You are the Supreme Lord Vishnu incarnate on earth,” Parasurama prayed with folded hands. “Forgive my impudence: I didn’t know who you really were.”

Rama placed an arrow on the bow and stretched the string.

“Once nocked, this arrow can no longer be retracted. It has to hit and destroy something. Tell me, what do you want me to destroy?” Rama asked firmly.

“Destroy the planets I’ve come to deserve for my austerities,” was the answer.

And the terrible arrow went off and destroyed those planets. Offering his obeisances to Rama, the brahmana disappeared.

Finally, Dasaratha saw his son reappear, but he could not understand how he had escaped such danger. Soon after, they left and arrived in Ayodhya. Their arrival was celebrated by the people waiting for them.

 

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