Once, when the great Yudhishthira humbly sought from the sage Mārkaṇḍeya the knowledge of how the divine Kumāraswāmi was born, nurtured by the Kṛttikās, and came to be known as the son of Śiva, the ancient seer thus narrated:
In the days of yore, when the gods waged fierce war against the hosts of demons, Indra, lord of the heavens, was vanquished and sat alone in thought upon the slopes of Mount Mānasa. His heart was heavy with care, for the balance of the worlds had been shaken, and he pondered deeply how to restore it. As he mused in solitude, a cry of distress pierced the stillness—a woman’s voice, trembling with fear: “A vile demon drags me away by force! Who shall save me?”
Indra rose at once, his warrior’s heart aflame with compassion. “Fear not, noble lady,” he cried, “I, the protector of heaven, am here to rescue thee!” Swift as thought he sped towards the sound, and beheld in the skies a dreadful sight: a gigantic, dark-hued demon, bearing in one hand a massive mace, and in the other clutching a radiant maiden, luminous as lightning. The monster was Kesi, the fierce. Indra called aloud, “O wicked one, release that helpless lady, fine-eyed and innocent! Thou shalt not escape me, for this is my thunderbolt that has slain countless demons before thee!”
Kesi, enraged, hurled his mace, but Indra shattered it to dust with the stroke of his Vajra. Then the demon uprooted a mountain and cast it at him; yet again the weapon of the gods reduced it to ashes. The clash of Vajra and stone sent forth sparks that blazed across the heavens, filling the firmament with flame. Stricken with terror, seeing his weapons fail, Kesi fled and vanished into the winds, leaving the trembling maiden free.
Indra comforted her gently and inquired who she was and how she had fallen into such peril. With reverent grace she replied, “O Lord of the Celestials, I am Devasena, daughter of Prajāpati Ariṣṭanemi. My sister is Daityasena. Together we had sought our father’s leave to wander on the slopes of this sacred mount. Then this wretched demon assailed us; long had he sought to beguile my sister with deceitful charms, and at last carried her away. He turned his evil eye upon me, but through thy valour I am delivered. Thou hast saved me from an ocean of grief, and for this my heart shall ever bless thee.”
Then Indra, moved by her purity, said, “O lotus-eyed maiden, from this day thou shalt be to me as a sister, for thy mother and mine were both daughters of Daksha. Ask of me what thou wilt, and it shall be granted.” Devasena, modest yet resolute, answered, “O sinless one, my father foretold in my childhood that a valiant hero, glorious and mighty, should one day be my lord. Deign to make his words come true. Bestow upon me a husband worthy of that prophecy—one who shall be the protector of worlds and the delight of the gods.”
Indra pondered deeply. The day was of the dark moon, the Amāvasyā, when sun and moon meet in shadow, and Agni blazes with renewed might as the offerings of the sages reach his flames. “This,” thought Indra, “is the Roudra moment, when the light of sun, moon, and fire unite. One born of that brilliance shall be her destined husband.” With this resolve, he led Devasena before Brahmā, the grandsire of creation, and bowed. “O Lord,” said he, “this noble maiden is as my sister. Deign to find her a husband worthy of her lineage and destined for greatness.” Brahmā smiled and replied, “O Indra, a peerless hero shall soon be born, mighty enough to uphold the three worlds and lead the armies of heaven. He shall be her consort and thy deliverer.” Indra rejoiced and, saluting the grandsire, returned to his celestial abode.
Thereafter, on the sacred night of Amāvasyā, the seven great sages, led by Vasiṣṭha, prepared to perform the holy rites. They invoked Avāhaneeya Agni, the fire of invitation, who accepted their offerings and bore them to the gods. Their wives, adorned with fine garments and jewels, served them with devotion. Yet Agni, the divine flame, beholding their celestial beauty, was for a moment overcome by desire. Ensnared by illusion, his brilliance dimmed as he longed to embrace them.
Though the sages completed their homa, Agni was restless, filled with shame and passion. He withdrew into solitude, resolving to cast off his tainted form. His consort, Svāhā Devī, perceiving his turmoil, took upon herself the guise of the wives of the sages—save only that of Arundhatī, the chaste spouse of Vasiṣṭha—and approached him in turn. Thus deceived, Agni joined with her, and his divine seed was borne by Svāhā to Mount Śveta, where she placed it within a golden urn amidst sacred kusa grass.
From that radiant seed, glowing like the sun, was born the six-faced child—Kumāra, the son of Fire, destined to be called Skanda, Kārttikeya, and Subrahmaṇya. The six sparks that fell upon the grasses became six infants, whom the Kṛttikās, the starry maidens, tenderly nursed; and when the flames united, they formed one resplendent boy, shining in all directions with the light of creation itself.
Within five days, he grew to full divinity. He seized his bow, struck down the hidden Tripurasuras whom Śiva had long reserved for the world’s renewal, and sent a tremor through heaven and earth. When he twanged his bowstring, the elephants of the quarters—Supratika and Airāvata—rushed against him, but he subdued them with ease. He sounded his conch, and thunder rolled through the three worlds. Armed with the spear Śakti by birthright and bearing a rooster as his emblem, he shattered the mighty Krauncha mountain with his arrow and roared with his six mouths so that the universe quaked, the oceans churned, the mountains shook, and the gods trembled at his power.
The sages, witnessing these portents, performed rites of appeasement, fearing that nature herself might dissolve under the child’s radiance. They beheld through divine vision that this wondrous boy was the issue of Agni and Svāhā alone, and not of their own wives, though illusion had veiled the truth. Still, the sages in shame turned away from their spouses. Then Svāhā herself appeared and said, “O revered ones, your wives are blameless. This child is mine, born of Agni and me alone. Let not virtue suffer through misunderstanding.” The sages, enlightened, were appeased.
In time, the noble Viśvāmitra came before the youth and initiated him with sacred rites, setting him upon the path of divine purpose. The gods then went to Indra and said, “The son of Fire has grown mighty beyond measure. He bears himself like the blazing sun, caring for none. Yet in him lies the power to end the demons and restore heaven’s peace. Act swiftly, for destiny unfolds.”
Thus, was foretold the rise of Kumāraswāmi, the radiant general of the celestial hosts, the child of Fire and of Grace, son of Śiva in spirit, born for the deliverance of gods and the destruction of evil.
