Brahma Purana

Listen, O wise ones, to the tale of the mighty king Kārtavīrya, whose brilliance was unmatched. To him, the gods granted four extraordinary boons, and among them was the splendid gift of a thousand arms—a boon he had sought earlier, radiant and awe-inspiring. When unrighteousness threatened to prevail, the virtuous stepped forward to restrain it. Fiercely conquering the earth, Kārtavīrya won favor through his unwavering commitment to righteousness. In countless battles, he vanquished thousands of enemies, and even as he fought, he faced ever greater threats of death upon the battlefield. O twice-born ones, it was during these struggles that, by the power of his yoga, a thousand arms manifested for him—just as they would for the lord of yogis, through his own maya. With this fierce might, he subdued the entire earth: its seven continents, cities, oceans, and towns all fell under his command. It is said, O best of sages, that this king performed seven hundred sacrifices, each on a different continent. These sacrifices were adorned with hundreds of thousands of gifts, their altars and posts fashioned from gold. The gods themselves, accompanied by Gandharvas and Apsarases, graced these ceremonies, arriving in splendid aerial chariots. At one such sacrifice, the Gandharva Narada, son of Varida, sang a hymn, astonished by the king’s greatness. No king, O foremost of sages, could attain the path of Kārtavīrya through sacrifices, gifts, austerities, valor, or learning. Clad in armor, sword in hand, bearing bow and arrows, and riding his chariot, he was seen traversing the seven continents, endowed with yogic power. There was no loss of wealth, no sorrow, nor confusion among his subjects, for the great king protected them with righteousness and power. He became the emperor, the universal sovereign, possessor of all jewels; yet he was also a herdsman and a field-guard, fulfilling many roles. By his yogic power, he became like Parjanya, the rain-giver; he was Arjuna, and his thousand arms were hardened by the bowstring. He shone with a thousand rays, like the autumn sun; among the people of Mahishmati, this great-souled one was like a serpent among men. He conquered the sons of Karkotaka and settled them in his city. O lotus-eyed one, he checked the speed of the ocean during the rainy season. As if in play, he turned back a river swollen by his arms, forcing it against its current; that river, lined with villages, he plundered in sport. The Narmada, with thousands of surging waves, approached in alarm as he hurled the great ocean with his thousand arms. The great serpents of the netherworld, terrified and motionless, hid themselves as he churned the ocean, scattering its waves, moving fish and mighty whales. The king then set the waters in motion, masses of foam struck by the wind and agitated by whirlpools, all stirred by his thousand arms. Like Mandara Mountain cast into the Ocean of Milk by gods and demons, the waters were shaken and fearful, suspecting the birth of nectar. Suddenly, terrified upon seeing the supreme king, those great serpents sprang up, bowing their unmoving heads. In the evening, like plantain trunks shaken by the wind, he strung his bow and, with five arrows, swiftly shot forth. He bewildered Ravana, lord of Lanka, and his army, overpowering and subduing him by force, binding him in Mahishmati. Hearing that Ravana, descendant of Pulastya, had been bound by Arjuna, Pulastya himself came and saw Arjuna. At Pulastya’s request, the king released Ravana, whose thousand arms had once resounded with the twang of the bowstring. At the end of an age, as clouds burst or thunder cracks, so too—how wondrous!—did Bhārgava’s might sever Kārtavīrya’s strength in battle. Like a golden palm grove belonging to the king of a thousand arms, he was once begged by Citrabhanu, parched with thirst. That hero gave alms: seven islands, the ancient cities of Agni, villages, hamlets, and all his territories. Citrabhanu burned all these, desiring to consume them, but it was by the power of that great-souled lord of men. He burned the mountains and forests of Kārtavīrya, and the beautiful, deserted hermitage of Varuna’s own son. Citrabhanu, greatly afraid, burned the Haihaya; Varuna had once obtained him as a son, radiant and illustrious. The sage Vasiṣṭha, also called Āpava, angered, pronounced a curse upon Arjuna at that very place: “Because, O Haihaya, you did not spare this forest of mine, you have performed a terrible deed; another will slay you.” He foretold, “A mighty-armed Rāma, son of Jamadagni, renowned for his power, will cut off your thousand arms and destroy you with force. A Brahmin ascetic, that Bhārgava, will slay you—he whose wealth was never lost, who conquered his foes.” By the majesty of that king, who protected his people with righteousness, his death thus came to him by the curse of the great sage. O Brahmins, in the same way, he once chose a boon for himself: this great soul had a hundred sons, of whom five remained. They were skilled in weapons, strong, courageous, righteous, and renowned: Śūrasena, Śūra, Vṛṣaṇa, and Madhupadhvaja. Jayadhvaja was the name of a great king of the Avanti region, a son of Kārtavīrya, powerful and mighty. Thus ends the tale of Kārtavīrya, the king of a thousand arms, whose deeds and boons, sacrifices and might, shine through the ages, remembered with reverence and awe.