THE CURSE OF ARUNDHATI
There was once upon a time a Brahmin who had done many evil deeds. He believed that he could receive the expiation of all his sins if he found a woman who had faith sufficient to transform sand into rice. He inquired among all castes, but nowhere was there a woman who had this supernatural power.
Finally he came to the Madigas. Now the maiden Arunzodi heard of his quest. She appeared before him and said: “I can do it, but I am of low birth. My father is wont to kill cows and eat them. We are outcasts.”
The Brahmin was exceedingly glad, and he besought the maiden to grant his request, notwithstanding her low degree. He argued with her, but Arunzodi said, “When my elder brother comes home and sees you, his wrath will be great, for we eat meat.”
This did not convince the Brahmin; he insisted, and finally Arunzodi yielded. He brought sand and she put it into the pot. He broke iron into small pieces, and this also she put into a pot. She saw what she had in the two pots, but so great was her faith, she proceeded to boil it.
With great anxiety the Brahmin stood by and watched. When Arunzodi had finished cooking, behold! one of the pots contained boiled rice, the other was full of curry. Certain that he had found his saviour, the Brahmin asked for Arunzodi in marriage.
But now the elder brother came home. He was enraged when he heard what had happened, and threatened to do violence to the Brahmin and to Arunzodi, his sister, also. No one among the Madigas befriended them, for all said: “She is bringing a stranger into our households and our caste! Turn them out! Away with them!”
Then it was that Arunzodi, before the eyes of all, rose to heaven. And she cursed them, saying: “You shall be the slaves of all. Though you work and toil, it shall not raise your condition. Unclothed and untaught you shall be, ignorant and despised from henceforth!” Thus Arunzodi cursed her people as she rose up, and they and the Brahmin were left standing and gazing after her.
The Madigas cannot forget Arunzodi. The Dasulu often tell the story of her faith, and of the curse with which she cursed her people, which, alas! has been fulfilled. And as the Dasulu recite they accompany themselves with instruments.
There are other legends about Arundhati, which is the Sanscrit form of the Telugu word Arunzodi and means “everlasting light.” One is that Arundhati was re-born as a Madiga woman, and married the sage Vasishta, the brother of the great Agastya. She bore him one hundred sons, ninety-six of whom reverted to the Pariah state, because they disobeyed their father, while the other four remained Brahmins. Among the hymns of the Rig Veda there is a bridal hymn. At the close this verse occurs: “*As Anusuya is to Atri, as Arundhati to Vasishta, as Sati to Kausika, so be thou to thy husband.” It is significant that in Sanscrit dictionaries both Arundhati and Matangi are mentioned as the “wife of Vasishta,” making the two identical.
When they have a wedding, the Madigas specially remember Arunzodi. After one of the Madiga Dasulu has performed the marriage rites, as ancient custom demands, it is thought well for the prosperity of bride and bridegroom if they, accompanied by their friends, go out under the starlit heaven to greet Arunzodi. Though she may not be visible, her cot is always there, and all can find it. The four bright stars in Ursa Major are the feet of her cot, made of very precious material. The three stars on one side of the four are thieves, who are stealing three feet of the cot, and have already pulled the cot crooked, for the four feet form an irregular square.
And so the young couple look at the cot, and say, “Arunzodi cannot be far away!” They bow and worship, for they believe that she has power to bless.
Arunzodi is not the only Pariah woman who, in legendary history, is vested with the power to bless of working miracles by reason of great faith. Very different is the story of the meek Vasugi; yet she too took sand and boiled it, and it became rice.
Vasugi was the wife of the Tamil sage and poet Tiruvalluvar, who, according to tradition, was a Pariah weaver, living near Madras about 1000 or 1200 A.D. There was, in his day, a famous Sanscrit Academy in Madura, to which all Tamil scholars of that day belonged. When the Pariah bard presented himself, with his thirteen hundred couplets, his want of caste was made an excuse for his exclusion. Yet down to the present day his chief work, the Kurral, is considered by Hindus of all classes a work of high moral and religious worth.
To the poet Tiruvalluvar the maiden Vasugi was offered in marriage by her father. He was inclined to accept her, for he considered domestic virtue the highest virtue, but resolved first to try the maiden’s gifts. “If she will take this sand,” he said, “and boil it into rice for me, she shall be my wife.” Vasugi took the basket of sand from his hands. She felt sure that what the holy man ordained was possible and right. Her faith was great. She boiled the sand, and as a virtuous woman has power with the gods, a miracle was wrought, and she brought the sage the rice for which he asked. She became his faithful, obedient wife.
The years passed, and the poet’s fame spread. Attracted thereby, a stranger came to his cottage and asked the question so much discussed at that time in India: “Which is greater, domestic life or a life of asceticism?” The sage courteously entertained the stranger, but gave no reply to his question. He left him to judge for himself the nature of his domestic life. It happened, one day, that the poet called his wife while she was drawing water from the well. She instantly came, leaving the bucket hanging midway in the well. Again, when she brought him his morning meal of cold rice, he complained that it burnt his mouth. Without question or hesitation she began to fan it. And when, in broad daylight, he dropped his shuttle, while weaving, and called for a light to seek it, she lit the lamp and brought it to him.
The stranger exclaimed: “Where such a wife is found, domestic life is best. Where such a wife is not, the life of the ascetic is to be preferred!”
When the meek Vasugi, the poet’s wife, closed her eyes in death, it was said of her that she had never during her whole married life questioned her lord’s command. The character of Vasugi, meek, gentle, humble, is in accordance with the spirit of the Kurral, the Pariah poet’s chief work.
To what extent the tradition of Vasugi was influenced by Aryan ideals of the perfect woman is a question. The discussion concerning the value of asceticism speaks of Aryan rather than Dravidian influence. The story of Vasugi, like that of Arunzodi, is not free from Brahminical impositions. There are few legends in India that do not bear the imprint of Brahminical extravagance, and the ill-concealed effort of the twice-born to magnify their own supremacy. A legend, therefore, which by its simplicity and artlessness proves its purely Dravidian origin is the more to be prized. The following legend was taken from the oral tradition of the Coorgs, one of the smaller Dravidian tribes.
In ancient times there lived in the Malabar country six brothers and a sister. They went together to Coorg, but the brothers were not pleased because the sister came with them, and they decided to spoil her caste. On the way they were hungry, and said to the sister, “Prepare us some food.” She replied, “There is neither fire nor rice.” They said, “We will give you rice, but you must boil it without fire.” She replied, “I will boil it without fire, but you must eat it without salt.” To this the brothers agreed.
The sister saw a cow and milked her, letting the milk fall into the vessel of rice. Then she went to the bank of a river, buried the pot in the sand, and it began to boil. The brothers awoke from their sleep and ate.
Later, while sitting together, chewing betel, they said, “Let us see whose betel is the reddest.” They all spat out the betel into their hands, looked at it, and the brothers threw it behind their heads. The sister, deluded by this, threw the betel back into her mouth and went on chewing. The brothers now said she had lost her caste. She was excessively grieved and wept bitterly.
One of the brothers threw an arrow, and ordered his sister to go with it and stay where it fell. She assumed the form of a crane and alighted on a Pariah, working in the rice fields. He became possessed with a devil and ran towards the mango tree, where the arrow was sticking. A temple was built around this tree, where the Coorgs still worship the sister of the six brothers, especially at her annual feast.
The Coorgs, like the Tamils and Telugus, are of Dravidian stock. There is a family resemblance in these three legends. In each the chief figure is that of a woman, who, in the ordinary labour of cooking rice, is endowed with miraculous gifts. These legends of three Pariah women stand in a line with the cults that are Mother-worship. The Dravidians believe that women may come in touch with mysterious forces, and that if they have sufficient faith they can compel these forces to be subservient to them.