Ambarīṣa

King Ambarīṣa, a great devotee of Viṣṇu, who is also called Hari, kept the vow of the twelfth day for a whole year with his queen: a fast that must be broken on the twelfth day of the moon's fortnight, and not after. At the end of it he fasted for three nights, bathed in the Yamunā and worshipped Hari in the Madhu forest. He sent six nyarbudas of cows, a vast multitude, to the houses of good brahmins, cows with gilded horns and silver hooves and fine coverings, rich in milk, gentle, young and handsome, with their calves and all their fittings. He fed the brahmins, and with their leave was about to break his fast. Just then Durvāsa arrived as his guest.

The king rose, gave him a seat and honoured him, and fell at his feet and invited him to eat. Durvāsa accepted, and went down to the Yamunā to bathe and meditate. Only half a muhūrta, less than half an hour, of the twelfth day was left, and the king was caught between two wrongs. If he did not wait for his guest, he would wrong a brahmin; if he did not break his fast within the twelfth day, he would break his vow. After taking counsel with the brahmins he broke it by sipping water, which brahmins say is both eating and not eating, and, thinking of the Lord, waited for the sage.

When Durvāsa came back from the Yamunā, he understood what the king had done. Shaking with anger, frowning, and very hungry, he said: Look at this cruel man, drunk with his wealth, who has broken dharma. He invited me as his guest and then ate without feeding me. I will show you the fruit of it now. He tore out a lock of his matted hair, and from it made a terrible being like the fire at the end of the world, which rushed at the king with a sword in her hand, shaking the earth as she came. The king did not move.

But Viṣṇu's discus, Sudarśana, which the Lord had set to guard his devotee, burned up that being as fire burns an angry snake, and then turned on Durvāsa. The sage fled in terror to save his life. He ran to the quarters of the sky and to the heavens, to the earth and the underworlds and the oceans, to Mount Meru, to the worlds of the guardians, and wherever he ran he saw the blazing discus behind him. He ran to Brahmā and begged him for protection, and Brahmā said: All of us, Śiva and I, and Dakṣa and Bhṛgu and the other lords of creatures, are under the rule of the Lord whose self is time. I cannot help you. He ran to Śiva on Kailāsa, and Śiva said: We have no power over the Supreme. This is the weapon of the Lord of all. Go to Hari himself.

So Durvāsa, burning, came to Vaikuṇṭha, the world of Viṣṇu, and fell at his feet, trembling. I have wronged one who is dear to you, he said. Protect me. But the Lord said: Brahmin, I am in the power of my devotees, as if I had no will of my own. The good have taken my heart. I do not want even my own self without them. How could I abandon those who have left wives and homes and sons and wealth and come to me? Your power has turned back on you. Go to the king, Nābhāga's son, and ask his forgiveness, and you will have peace.

So Durvāsa, still scorched by the discus, came back to Ambarīṣa and took hold of his feet. The king, ashamed to have his feet touched by a brahmin and filled with pity, prayed to the discus: You are fire, you are the sun, you are the moon. Homage to you, Sudarśana, dear to the Lord. If anything has been given or offered by us, if our dharma has been well kept, if our family holds the brahmin as its god, then let this brahmin be free of this burning. And the discus grew calm.

Durvāsa, freed, praised the king. Today I have seen the greatness of the servants of the Lord, he said. I wronged you, and you sought my good. You have saved my life. The king, who had not eaten all this time, waiting for him, fed him with honour, and Durvāsa ate and said, Now you eat. I am pleased with you. Your fame will be sung in heaven and on earth. Then he went away through the sky to the world of Brahmā. A whole year had passed between his flight and his return, and all that year the king had lived on water.