Part IV deals almost exclusivity to the Moon and its lunar mansions (known as Nakshatras). Jyotish considers Moon a ‘special planet’ and, as our nearest and dearest celestial companion, this entire section is given over to its motion, occultation, eclipsing lunar nodes and daily sojourn in the embraces of its 27 lunar brides.
Part V is dedicated to the propitiation of planets and remedial measures. Known as Upayes, we consider the use of yantra, gemstones, rudrākṣa beads, ceremonial offerings (pooja) and fire rituals, known as ahuti. We also explore Bali/Shanti Karma, elaborate planetary ceremonies performed in Śrī Laṇkā that aim to deflect the negative emissions of planets known as graha-apala.
There is no right or wrong way to learn Jyotish, there is only learning. With practice, experimentation and a little determination, Jyotish will start to reveal itself to you – becoming a kind of second nature. Any investment made in its deeper symbology will always reward. Its initial complexities, however daunting, will (over time) coalesce and harmonise, facilitating an open dialogue with the planets.
We begin therefore with a story – set in an age of seers, whose talents in the divination arts were unparalleled and unquestioned.
Legend of Varāhamihira
If the Sun should blacken its countenance or be variegated in colour, if animals and birds should fearfully howl toward the fall of the night, then death can be expected. If the Sun should be the colour of blood in the mid-heaven or should appear the deepest red, as if engulfed by a dust storm – then the reigning prince shall die.
Brihat Saṃhitā25 by Varāhamihira
King Vikramāditya26 of Ujjayinī27 summoned his Navaratnā28 enquiring as to the fate of his soon to be born son. The learned sages arrived at court from their places of study and prepared to face and answer their king. Mihira (court astrologer) having directed his observation to the planets, who were after all most auspicious for such revelations, was also among the entourage.
Now assembled, each delivered a unanimous verdict: ‘Excellency,’ each chorused, ‘I have considered your request in great earnestness in order that I might give answer to your question. It is therefore with deep regret that I inform you of an ill-fate which awaits the child: upon his sixteenth year of life, he will perish.’
Rising to his feet with graven look the king demanded the details of this fate. Why he asked, had such a curse fallen upon the royal household. Lowering their heads the sages replied, ‘Though we cannot say what sequence of events will lead to his death, we all agree the youth will meet his end by the assault of a wild beast.’
Knowing his advisors to be beyond reproach and implicitly trusting their collective wisdom, the king had no choice but to accept their verdict. The palace, he knew, bordered a wilderness from which did on occasion present some danger in the form of prowling animals. The royal court also enjoyed hunting in this wilderness; perhaps it was to be on one such foray that his son would meet his end?
He was about to dismiss the entourage when Mihira stepped forward and added, ‘Your majesty, I do not contradict these findings but would add that this beast will be a wild boar. Be aware, however, there can be no protection against the animal for the hand of fate aids it with supernatural qualities, striking without warning amidst a storm.’
The king gravely acknowledged these words, pondering his child’s cruel and yet ironic fate – to be slain by their royal insignia, which was that of a ferocious looking wild boar.29
The child grew and relished life at court, never restricted in his movements and greatly enjoying any foray into the wilderness to hunt. He was never observed to flinch in the face of danger.
It had long ago been decided that the youth’s fate be kept from him. If, reasoned the king, he was to be killed by a wild boar, he must live out his life unburdened by that knowledge.
Years passed and the prediction was somewhat forgotten, but as his sixteenth birthday drew near the predictions of the Navaratnā again returned to haunt the king, who now began a day and night vigil over the youth. If, reasoned the king, I were to keep the boy from harm’s way, perhaps he might be spared. With this thought in mind he slowly began to restrict the movement of the prince, curtailing any events which might bring his son within striking distance of the wilderness. In the remaining days before his sixteenth birthday the king ordered the boy confined to the palace, having no contact with the outside world.
On the day of his son’s sixteenth birthday the king received word a large boar had been sighted near the palace, close to the wilderness edge. Suspecting this to be the supernatural agent, come to claim his son, the king rode out to meet the beast, hoping to slay the animal. Before leaving, the king gave instruction that the boy be guarded at all times and forbidden to leave his room.
After searching in vain for the animal, the king returned to the palace only to be met with a great commotion. Hurriedly ascending to the rooms occupied by the prince he found his son dead, lying upon the terrace, impaled by a decorative lance that had hung upon the wall. Closer examination of its wooden shaft showed its end carved into the royal insignia – a ferocious wild boar.
Questioning the terrified attendants, they told how the signal of the king’s return had prompted the youth to run out onto the terrace to welcome his return. At that very moment a fierce wind shook the palace, dislodging the lance, which had fallen and impaled the youth. Later, in honour of his stunning prediction, Mihira was awarded the title Varāhamihira (Varāha meaning boar), a title which persists to this day.
The son of Ādityadāsa,30 Varāhamihira,31 is historically honoured as scientist, astronomer, mathematician, author and, of course, astrologer. Little remains known of the man himself or his true origins, and like so many historical characters there is much disagreement over the accuracy of events surrounding his life.
As an author he is known to have written on a wide variety of subjects including: pilgrimages (tīrtha/yātrā), military campaigns (bṛhadyātrā), marriage (vivāhapaṭala), mathematics (karaṇa) and of course Jataka (natal astrology). His surviving Pañca Siddhântikâ (five astronomical canons32) has been dated in the region of AD 450–570 and remains an important compendium on early Indian Astronomy. Mihira’s residence in Ujjayinī (Ujjain) is almost universally accepted, especially in regard to his famed mathematical school which later to become an important Indian cultural centre that prospered under his patronage. Mihira is often quoted as saying, ‘There is no better boat than a horoscope to help a man cross the troubled seas of life.’
NOTES
1.Also known as Nikko Bosatsu or Sûryaprabha.
2.Also known as Gatten or Chandraprabha.