The Story of Nabhaga: Mixing Primary Colors
It seems like the history of the human race abounds with stories of people who rebelled against the identities they were forced into.
It is interesting to view today’s happenings and notions of identity politics through the lens of Puranic stories. Puranas abound with such stories, but naturally, I want to choose one with a love angle and conflict.
The story of Nabhaga from Markandeya Purana is a story of mixing colors. The notion of varna or colors — not to be confused with caste — in Hindu society, for those that don’t know ancient tales from our Itihasa and Puranas. Simply stated, conceptually, varnas are related to a person’s characteristics, leanings, capabilities.
There is an expression in Sankrit called, ‘VarNaSankara,’ which essentially means mixing of colors. The implication is that when a man and woman from different varnas married, there would be ‘confusion.’
A supposedly later concept of Jati relates to specialized professions, economic networks, etc. While the two notions overlap, the way I look at it, there is a lot more theory in the former, and a lot more applicability and economics in the latter. Anyway, the society was divided broadly into four sometimes overlapping varnas: Brahmana (thinkers, teachers, advisers to the kings,) Kshatriyas (warriors, kings, protectors,) Vaishyas (farmers, traders, artisans,) Sudras (all kinds of service professions, artisans.)
Nabhaga, son of Dishta, was a scion of the Ikshvaku lineage. Ikshvaku was Vaivaswata Manu’s son. Rama was descended from the line of Ikshvaku. Was everyone in this line, Kshatriya? Not really. Kashyapa, among the first forebears, was Brahmin. Prushadhra, one of Manu’s sons, became a Sudra. At what point did the lineage identify as Kshatriyas? I have no clue.
Nabhaga came across a stunningly beautiful Vaishya girl and was desperately smitten. He approached the father of the girl and sought his daughter’s hand in marriage. Even though he understood that Nabhaga had fallen in love with his daughter, the father was hesitant.
He said, “Prince, you are next in line to inherit the kingdom. I am a regular taxpayer. Why would you want to marry my daughter? There is a huge disparity in terms of influence, suitability, and fit.”
Nabhaga said, “How would you define fitness? Suitability is eminently context-dependent. Even the food you enjoy becomes unsuitable for consumption once you have finished eating. Any kind of pleasure that you crave makes them irrelevant once you are sated. I love your daughter. My body and mind will be in torment if you deny your permission.”
The girl’s father said, “Prince, I am your father’s subject. In fact, you are also under your father’s control. If your father agrees to this match, I will give my daughter to you in marriage.”
Nabhaga said, “It is not required to solicit approval for everything from your parents and teachers. This is a matter of love. When I seek permission, I am going to my elders, in all humility, after suspending my own opinion on the matter. It is absurd to seek my father’s consent, when my desire is too strong for holding my judgment in abeyance!”
The Vaishya man said, “You are right. I will seek your father’s approval. My opinions or desires will not cloud the issue.”
Nabhaga was silenced.
The Vaishya went to the king, and told him of the prince’s desire.
The king invited the prince to a meeting with his advisers and requested their counsel.
They said, “Prince, if you are in love with this girl, marry her, by all means. But first, marry a Kshatriya girl, so that your progeny will be fit to rule the country that you will eventually inherit. You have to keep in mind the wellbeing and progress of the offspring you will beget when you enter into marriage alliances. You don’t want to dilute the excellent Jati you are born into.”
The prince was incensed. He wordlessly walked out of the meeting.
He went straight to the girl. He grabbed her hand, and held his sword aloft with his other, and said, “I have married this girl by the Rakshasa method, by abducting her. If anyone wants to rescue her, he must do so now.”
The father of the bride ran to the king in panic. “King, please help me! The prince has kidnapped my daughter.”
The angry king dispatched his soldiers to capture Nabhaga.
Prince Nabhaga was an adept soldier. He managed to successfully quell the offensive. The king was upset and came in person with an army to subdue the prince.
A fierce battle waged between the father and son. The son was an expert in the use of arms and would not back down.
Then an ascetic came to the site of the battle and asked the king to stop.
“King, your son should not be fighting this war with you. It is not his dharma anymore to fight, and it is no longer appropriate for you to fight him. If a man born as a Brahmin marries a Brahmin girl and then marries a girl from another varna, he will not cease to be a Brahmin.
Similarly, a Kshatriya can marry a Kshatriya girl first, and then marry a Kshatriya or a Vaishya girl, and he won’t stop being a Kshatriya. The same rule applies to a Vaishya man, and he can marry a girl of his own varna first, and later a Sudra girl, without affecting his standing in the Vaishya community. But if a man marries a woman of lower varna without first marrying a girl of his own varna, he will gain his wife’s varna.
“By this rule, your son is now a Vaishya. He does not have the right to fight with you, a Kshatriya, anymore. Please desist and return home.”
Nabhaga married Suprabha, the girl of his choice. He went home to his father and sought his blessing.
“Father, please let me know what I should do next?”
His father said, “There are many thinkers like Babhravya, who are members of this court. They have the authority and wisdom to decide on your duties and obligations. You must act according to their advice.”
Nabhaga was advised to pick up an occupation in line with his adopted varna. Accordingly, the prince engaged himself in farming and trading.
Soon, Nabhaga was blessed by the birth of a son, whom he named Bhalandana.
Bhalandana became a boy.
His mother advised him to become a cattleman. Herding cows was not something Bhalandana wanted to as a profession, so he approached Neepa, a famous thinker and Rajarshi who lived in the Himalayan foothills.
He prostrated before the famous Rajarshi and said, “Oh, Venerable One, I have been advised by mother to take up cattle herding as a profession. But my heart is not in this. I want to be a king. How do I win a kingdom for myself? My cousins have occupied lands that are rightfully mine. How do I regain them? Please direct me as to how I can win my kingdom? I will act according to your advice.”
Sage Neepa agreed and provided all the weapons and support needed to Bhalandana. Bhalandana approached his paternal cousin, Vasurata, and asked for his share of the kingdom.
Vasurata and his other cousins refused, saying, “You are a Vaishya. How can you be king?”
Bhalandana proceeded to engage them in a battle and defeated them.
After winning back the entire kingdom, Bhalandana returned home and offered the kingdom to his father.
Nabhaga refused.
He said, “Dear son, Please rule this ancient kingdom that has come down to us from our forefathers.
“I have never ruled a kingdom, but it is not like I could not do it. I accepted and wholeheartedly embraced being a Vaishya. I displeased my father when I went against his wishes to marry your mother. I received his directive and gave up my claims to the kingdom. Now I don’t want to go back on my word and reassert my right to rule the kingdom. I will be committing the sin of breaking my promise to my father and flouting his injunction.
“Besides, I don’t want to rule a kingdom that you have won. I would feel ineffectual. You, my son, should go ahead and rule independently. If you don’t want to do that, give the kingdom back to your cousins. I want to be true to my commitment and my profession, and ruling a kingdom is not for me.”
Bhalandana ruled his vast kingdom justly. The people of his kingdom were happy and content. No one was interested in flouting dharma.
So, this story of Nabhaga and Bhalandana is told in Markandeya Purana [Chapters 110–113], essentially a story of how a prince became a Vaishya and his son regained his lost kingdom and became a Kshatriya. So the way I am interpreting the tale is that even though varna was birth-based, it was not so set in stone that individuals could not move in and out of their varna/jati.
This brings a whole slew of other questions.
The first: why was there a rule to marry a savarna woman (a girl belonging to his own varna) first, before allowing a man to marry a woman of his choice, of other varnas?
I enjoy these speculations.
Before I venture upon a free-flow of speculation, though, I have a couple of rules. The first ground rule is that I don’t impute any kind of animus to the story’s protagonists. I believe they were all mostly intelligent, good intentioned people, that were sometimes forced to act against dharma. The second is that I assume that all these stories are based on real or near-real characters and reflect the social and political realities of their times.
I wonder if these rules were because they wanted to protect their children for their varna/profession. Clearly, the women were also educated in the varna professions. If a man left his ‘family business,’ he would have to acquire new skills, a new profession, and, more importantly, a new network. The children would perhaps be first trained by their mothers, and then their families and gurus or guilds as they progressed. In fact, in this story, Bhalandana’s mother advices him to become a cattle herder. She is trying to train him in a profession in line with her varna.
I also see that marrying several times — for a man, at least, was allowed.
Marrying outside the varna came with its own set of tensions and heartbreaks, but it is not so removed from the realities of today’s world that we cannot understand or relate to how King Dishta or Prince Nabhaga felt. Today’s divisions are perhaps not varnas, but differences in lifestyles or language or gender.
The second: Markandeya Purana is obviously written in an entirely different socio-political setting than Yayati’s times. In my forthcoming novel, Devayani, I have tried to highlight that her marriage to Yayati was a ‘Pratiloma’ one, in which Yayati, a Kshatriya man, married a brahmin woman of higher varna. Such a marriage was transgressive.
However, in that setting, there is no injunction that Yayati must get married to a Kshatriya woman first and later to someone else he wants to retain his own membership in the Kshatriya varna. In fact, if that rule were applied, Yayati could marry Sarmishtha first, and there would be no stolen love affair. The story would have been pretty straightforward and not sensational enough for a novel, perhaps!
The third: According to the Atri Smruti, none of the varnas are birth based. All human beings are born as Sudras; by performing appropriate rites of passage, a man becomes a Dvija (twice-born); by acquiring knowledge and expertise, he becomes a Vipra (a learned man, a wise man); and by realizing Brahman (the supreme knowledge), he becomes a Brahmin.
Was this a reality of another time? Or was this an idealized system that was perhaps implemented differently in practice?
All these are intriguing questions that I would love to get answers to. Meanwhile, there are stories to read, explore, and revel in.
Here is to storytelling!
