'Jambavant's Little Cub' - SS (updt-pg.4)

A beautiful morning dawned over Lanka, the grass smelling sweet from early morning dew, and the fragrance of exotic flowers permeating the air. After days of inhaling the dust of battle, it was sheer bliss to feel Mother Nature in her element. It was as if she too was celebrating the victory of good over evil, of the feeling of liberation after being held captive by one of the cruelest demons history would remember.

The King of bears, Riksharaj Jambavant, stopped in front of the biggest tent in the middle of the camp, his head bowed as he was deep in thought. He knew Prabhu Shri Ram had gone to talk to Maharaj Vibhishan, the new Lankapati, about the quickest way to return to Ayodhyapuri. Mata Sita was inside the tent, packing whatever meagre belongings Prabhu Shri Ram and Rajkumar Lakshman had brought with them. Should he go inside? Would it be proper?

How could it be improper for a son to meet his mother?

His mind decided, Riksharaj Jambavant entered the tent quietly, his head bent low in devotion as he prostrated himself before the glorious and pious form of Devi Sita.

"Maata, bless me!" he cried as he touched her divine feet, feet which were worshipped by Gods and humans alike.

"Riksharaj!" Devi Sita exclaimed in embarrassment, standing up and lifting Jambavant by the shoulders. "You are elder to me, Riksharaj. How can you touch my feet? It is not proper."

"Mother, you are Bhagawati Mahalakshmi, the mother of the entire universe. I am but your paltry child, and yet I seek a boon from you."

Devi Sita smiled softly, touched by the humble words of the elderly bear King.

"Riksharaj, if there is anything I can give you, you have only to ask," she reassured him gently, "My Lord and I are indebted to you for life, for the service you rendered us in the war against Lankapati Ravan."

"Mother, do not embarrass me!" Jambavant protested with tears in his eyes, "What child would not help his father in rescuing his mother from the clutches of evil? You and Prabhu Shri Ram are our parents. We can lay down our life for you."

Now it was Devi Sita who had tears in her eyes. "Putra!" she murmured, "Ask me what you wish for. I will grant whatever it is, even be it my life."

"Mother, I envy the position of your father, Mithila naresh Seeradhwaja Janaka," Jambavant explained, "How lucky and blessed is he to have swayam Mahalakshmi as his daughter! Mother, all I ask for is to be known as your father as well. I want you as my daughter, Mata. I want you as my daughter! All I desire is to see you frolicking in my courtyard while you play your childish games. I wish to see you as a small child, a small child I may clasp to my heart and watch her grow into a beautiful young woman. Mata, please grant me this one wish. Please agree to take birth in my home as my daughter!"

Jambavant bowed his head in supplication, and Devi Sita gave a beauteous smile in response.

"Of course, my son," she whispered, "Of course! When the right time comes, I will take birth in your house and become known as Jambavati, the daughter of Riksharaj Jambavant! You will become my father and I your daughter."

"Mother, I have yet another wish!" Jambavant asked humbly, "Please erase this meeting from my memory. When I have you as my daughter, I do not want to know about your divine origins, because then I will not be able to enjoy your childhood. I would like to raise you as I would an ordinary child, Mata."

"So be it," Devi Sita agreed, "You will remain in ignorance about my divine origins until the moment you give me in marriage to my Lord. Then, you will remember everything."

Jambavant bowed his head in agreement and after prostrating himself once again in front of Sita Mata, he left the tent with a happy step. The moment he stepped out of the tent, he forgot everything.

Jambavant was one of the blessed individuals to witness the divine sight of Prabhi Shri Ram and Sita Devi's coronation in the royal city of Ayodhya. He spent many months in Ayodhya receiving the care and kindness of the Lord and Devi before he returned to his own Kingdom.

From then many years passed. The second eon of the manvantara, treta yuga, soon gave way to the third eon dwapara. King Jambavant was blessed with many children from his wife. He had many sons and daughters, but for some reason he always felt a hole in his heart, as if his life was missing something.

One day, he received news that a divine child had been born to Rajkumari Devaki and Rajkumar Vasudev, the prince of the Vrishni clan who had been imprisoned by Kans, the evil King of Mathura, because an aakashwani had prophesied that Devaki's eighth son would kill him.

When Jambavant heard about young Krishna's birth, something in him yearned to see the child and take his blessings. He felt alive and exhilarated. The hole in his heart that had been present ever since his beloved Prabhu Shri Ram had left the world, felt smaller somehow. He felt more connected to his Prabhu than ever.

"Oh Lord, what is happening to me?" Jambavant asked as he prostrated himself in front of the murtis of Ram, Lakshman, Sita and Hanuman. He had built a beautiful mandir for the four divine beings after returning to his kingdom following the coronation of Ram and Sita. The mandir was very close to his heart. He would often sit there gazing at Prabhu Shri Ram with tears of happening glistening in his eyes.

~*~

Meanwhile, in the milky depths of Vaikunta, Goddess Mahalakshmi sat smiling on the enormous Ananta Sesha, feeling happiness in her heart after witnessing the beautiful birth of her Lord as Shri Krishna. Her Lord's infant form never ceased to amaze. She felt as if she could sit there gazing at him for eternity, but she had work to do. She herself must take birth soon, not once but many times. Many of her devotees had done years of tapasya to gain her as their daughter, and she could never refuse a devotee's desire, not when their intentions were so pure.

First, Mahalakshmi appeared in the Kingdom of Vidarbha, ruled by the virtuous King Bhishmaka who already had four sons but yearned for a daughter.

She left a major portion of her energy in the fields of Vidarbha, which would later take the form of a divine girl who Bhishmaka would lovingly adopt and name Rukmini. This divine energy was none other than Shridevi.

Next, Mahalakshmi went to the home of Satrajit, a Yadava nobleman who would later become the treasurer of Dwaraka once that divine kingdom was formed. She left another major form of her energy in the middle of a lotus flower. This energy would take the form of Satyabhama, a girl whom Satrajit would find and adopt as his own daughter. Thus, Bhudevi too took birth.

Mahalakshmi then went to that devotee of hers, whom she had promised many years ago, to reward his service to the Lord by taking birth as his daughter.

Jambavant had fallen asleep, his head on the feet of Prabhu Shri Ram's murti. Mahalakshmi smiled softly seeing his devotion, and raising her hand, she let flow a burst of energy which took the form of an infant bear cub. This girl, a form of Vijaya Lakshmi, would bring victory and prosperity to the old bear King.

The girl lay at the feet of Shri Ram, and the moment Mahalakshmi disappeared, she began to cry as any ordinary baby would.

Jambavant awoke with a start and gazed at the small infant in shock. He could not believe his eyes. How had the baby gotten there? Who had left her?

His wife entered the room, hearing the cries of an infant.

"She is a miracle, a gift from Prabhu Shri Ram himself," she said with happiness, after he explained what had happened. "We must raise her as our own, my Lord."

"Of course, of course, yes," Jambavant agreed immediately, taking the infant into his arms and holding her close. That hole in his heart, which he had thought would never be filled, had finally ceased to exist. Could this innocent little girl really be the answer to all his dreams?

"She is my daughter," he whispered, placing a kiss on her small forehead, already soft with the black fur of his clan, "She is as dear to me had she been my own flesh and blood, and thus her name shall be Jambavati."

"Jambavati," his wife murmured, a smile on her lips, "It is the perfect name for her."

They both had many daughters before Jambavati, all of them now married and settled with their families, and yet none of them had ever inherited that title as their name. It was as if this small cub herself was destined for it. Truly she was God's miracle.

Little Jambavati gurgled happily, as if she approved her name. She looked to the murti of Prabhu Shri Ram, and her face broke into a beautiful smile.