In ancient lore, the sage Ruru, descended from the venerable line of Bhrigu, was consumed with anger against the serpent race, for it was by a snake’s bite that his beloved, Pramadvara, had fallen. Though by divine grace she was restored to life, the memory of that sorrow haunted him, and his heart grew fierce. Seized with vengeance, he roamed the forests with a heavy cudgel, hunting serpents and striking them without mercy. Day after day, he continued this relentless act, sowing terror among the serpent clans, until they feared he might one day destroy their entire kind from the earth.
Once, while wandering thus, Ruru seized upon a large serpent named Dundubha, slow in movement and harmless, for it bore no venom in its fangs. As he raised his cudgel to strike, the trembling serpent invoked the name of Vishnu and spoke: “O Ruru, scion of Bhrigu’s noble line, why do you deal death without measure upon us? What is the cause of this merciless conduct? Does not your radiant countenance and the glow of austerity upon you reveal a heart schooled in wisdom? Why then do you heap cruelty upon beings who have done you no harm?”
Ruru answered sternly, “It is the serpents who caused my wife’s suffering. For her sake I bear this staff, and with it I shall not cease until every serpent perishes.” Thus speaking, he lifted his hand to strike. But suddenly the serpent shed its form and stood revealed as a hermit. Amazed, Ruru demanded, “Who are you? Were you a serpent or a deceiving shape-shifter? Speak the truth, or my wrath shall fall on you.”
With folded hands the ascetic replied humbly, “I am Sahasrapada, once a pupil in the hermitage of Kanva. Long ago, in sport, I wove a straw rope in the likeness of a serpent and flung it before my companion Khaga as he sat at the sacred fire. Startled, he cursed me to become a serpent without venom, to wander thus for my folly. I pleaded forgiveness, yet he declared that only when I encountered a scion of Bhrigu’s house would the curse be lifted. And lo, by meeting you, the spell is broken.”
Then Sahasrapada, gazing earnestly at Ruru, said, “Hear me, O sage, and let my words awaken your heart. A Brahmin is born for compassion, for kindness to every creature. Vedic learning cultivates a steadfast mind and a gentle heart. Truth, patience, and empathy are the jewels that adorn him. To harm living beings is the duty of warriors, not of Brahmins, who are guardians of peace. Recall that when King Janamejaya sought to destroy all serpents in sacrifice, it was the boy-sage Astika, disciple of your own father, who stayed the rite and spared the serpent race from ruin. Shall you, of that same noble house, now walk the path of cruelty?”
These words pierced the heart of Ruru. He saw his folly and realized that grief had clouded his reason. With gratitude he bowed before Sahasrapada and resolved to cast away his wrath. To cleanse himself of the sin of needless slaughter, he embraced penance and austerity, and thus found relief of spirit.
When this tale was recounted among sages, they asked Sauti, the great narrator, to unfold the deeper story of the serpent race, their ancient curse, and the birth of Garuda. Sauti then spoke: In the age of truth, the wives of Prajapati Kashyapa—Vinata and Kadru—sought children from their lord. Kadru desired a thousand sons, fiery and unrestrainable, while Vinata asked for two sons of surpassing strength and virtue. Kashyapa granted their wishes through a holy sacrifice, giving them eggs to nurture until life should emerge.
Kadru’s eggs in due time hatched into powerful serpents—Sesha, Vasuki, Takshaka, Iravata, and many more, blazing like fire. But Vinata, impatient, broke one egg before its time, and from it was born Aruna, half-formed and radiant, who became charioteer of the Sun. Angered at his mother’s haste, he cursed her to become a slave to Kadru for long years, yet foretold that her second son, when fully born, would deliver her. Thus, the egg of Garuda was left, destined for greatness.
In those days, when gods and demons sought the nectar of immortality, they churned the ocean of milk using Mount Mandara as the churning rod and Vasuki the serpent as the rope. Vishnu, in the form of a tortoise, bore the mountain’s weight, while gods and demons strained in opposite ranks. From the churning arose dread poison Halahala, which threatened to consume all creation, until Shiva in compassion drank it, holding it in his throat. Then came forth treasures divine: the goddess Lakshmi, the jewel Kaustubha, the horse Uchhaisravas, the elephant Airavata, the physician Dhanvantari bearing the pot of nectar.
When demons seized the ambrosia, Vishnu assumed the form of the enchantress Mohini and, with guile, served it to the gods. The demon Rahu, disguised, drank a portion, but was revealed by Sun and Moon, and Vishnu severed him with his discus. Thus, his head lived on as Rahu, enemy of the luminaries.
In time, Indra claimed the treasures, among them the white horse Uchhaisravas. One day, Vinata and Kadru beheld that celestial steed. Vinata declared it flawless white, but Kadru, intent on winning, claimed its tail was black. They laid a wager, each staking her freedom. Thus arose the contest that would bind Vinata in slavery and set in motion the destiny of Garuda, who in time would be born to break her chains.
Thus did the story of Ruru’s anger led to the unveiling of the ancient curse of Kadru and the mighty birth of Garuda, whose deeds would shape the fates of gods and serpents alike.
