Survey the Smoldering Stumps:

The Burning of Khandava Forest

There is a place near the sacred Yamuna river, a place that once belonged to rare beasts and birds, trees and bushes, and on any given day would paint a colorful picture for the Gods staring down from above - its name is Khandava forest.

Khandava is no ordinary place; its ruins will tell you the same. They will tell you of how a single moment  can alter the lives of many and erase the colors from the picture it paints.

Here is what I have been told:

It was the middle of summer. The sun was shining and the calls of migrating birds rang in the soft, still air for miles, ricocheting off the Himalayas. Yamuna, the river, was full from the rains, for Indra, the rain God, had been very busy that year fighting off a number of fires in the nearby Khandava forest. And so, it was a perfect day for thirsty animals to stop off for a drink in the Yamuna, or to say "hello" to their friends in the Khandava, a perfect day for people to take a walk and enjoy one another's company.

As it happens, Krishna, the eighth incarnation of Vishnu, and Arjuna, the highly skilled third son of Kunthi, after bathing in the river, had been walking along its edge when they were suddenly approached by a tall, thin, shaggy-haired woodsman draped in black rags. He had a full beard and only upon closer observation could one notice the curious glob of butter that smeared across his mouth.

The man's eyes met those of Krishna and Arjuna before exposing a mouthful of golden teeth. He greeted them and introduced himself as a  weak and hungry wanderer. Arjuna, in his kind nature, was quick to say  they would provide food for the man if he just name his earthly desire.

At that moment, the wanderer held out his hand, revealing a tiny ball of fire. He spoke only the words "the forest of Khandava," then revealed his true identity as Agni, the fire God.

As Arjuna and Krishna stood mesmerized by the flickering flame in Agni's hand, Agni spoke of how only the dry forest could rid his hunger pains and return his strength if they, Arjuna and Krishna, could just hold Indra, the rain God, back so he, Agni, could munch on the burning woods. He assured Arjuna and Krishna that no man or animal would be harmed in the perishing forest; he reiterated over and over to them that no man inhabited the desolate landscape and the animals, with their keen sense for knowing their surroundings, would scurry long before the flames reached the earth and continue on with their annual migration.

Agni lifted his hand higher to compare the tiny size of the flame with the vast size of the forest. He spoke clearly of how the roots of the trees grow deeper than what the flame can reach and that Yamuna, the river, would give life back to the trees. As a reward for their assistance, Agni presented Krishna with the most powerful, razor-sharp iron discus ever crafted and Arjuna with the mighty bow Gandiva, two ever-lasting arrows, and an extravagant chariot pulled by the strongest of white horses.

Krishna bowed and praised Agni's generosity while Arjuna, without hesitation, sprang into the chariot.

As Arjuna strung the mighty bow, the earth beneath them began to quiver and quake. The flames in every fireplace and lamp in all the world's palaces, houses, and huts simultaneously died out and gathered in the eyes of Agni, the fire God. Agni bent down and touched the ground with just one finger before his buttery mouth unleashed seven flaming tongues. The flames consumed him and the rushing winds carried him off through the trees. The force of the burning heat sent the chariot horses into an immediate frenzy and the green of the trees were instantaneously blanketed by the spectrum of the giant flames that was Agni.

Smoke billowed towards the heavens, obstructing the view of the Gods which forced Indra, the rain God, to act quickly. Thunderclouds gathered over Khandava forest like a giant black hand ready to crush the earth. A massive tidal wave came barreling down from the clouds and dumped a thousand rivers onto the roaring flames. Arrows flew from Arjuna's bow, Gandiva, at the rate an automatic weapon discharges its bullets. A beastly sound erupted as the rain and fire continued to collide until finally, Arjuna stood back, strung one single fire-tipped arrow, and shot it straight at the heart of the clouds. The Gods above came rushing to the aid of Indra as Indra shot a bolt of lightning at Krishna's iron discus. But the discus destroyed the lightning bolt and Indra and the other Gods knew they had lost the battle of Khandava forest.

Over time, the winds drifted through the charred remains of Khandava forest, escorting the smoke and ash from the ground and sky. The animals who once had frolicked in the bushes, nestled in the nooks of the tall trees or found shade beneath their canopy of leaves were now displaced or had perished in the seas of rain and fire. Despite Agni's promises, no man or animal could survive the brutality of the storm and the roots of what are now burned blackened stumps are brittle and rotten.

Khandava forest, like other forests, may be considered a pocket. Together, these pockets form the lungs of the earth and a destination worth experiencing; they provide oxygen for the living and paint a colorful landscape for the godly. What is there without them?

Signs of the battle of Khandava forest may be felt elsewhere, too, as an exhausted rain God, Indra, now more than ever, finds himself struggling to provide water for other parts of earth.

Here is what I have been told...