BY ALPER ÖZKAN (MSN/PhD II)
Animal Companion
Once again, greetings and salutations! This is what passes for the biology-and-history column of Bilkent News, and I am responsible for ensuring that you are as entertained as you are well-informed (though that is a responsibility I can hardly measure up to). This summer was rife with important events from both perspectives, and I got to brush the dust off a few topics I was interested in but not knowledgeable about, so do look forward to what I hope will be a productive season! As always, I enjoy covering any topic I deem curious enough, and if you have any requests, be it a rundown of cryptids and UFO sightings, analysis of folklore elements in your favorite TV series or the origin and development of ninjas (the mythological aspect of which, by the way, apparently dates back to one Fujiwara no Chikata, who rebelled against the emperor with a cadre of four demons), just send me an e-mail and I will make sure to devote a column to it. I guarantee no conspiracy theories whatsoever, except those pertaining to the idea that the Large Hadron Collider is actually the Eight-Trigrams Furnace and Sun Wukong will pop out of it instead of the Higgs boson (well, taking into account certain recent events, in addition to the Higgs boson). But I digress, so let's get back to this week's topic.
While often ignored, what a warrior rides on is often as important as the warrior himself. In history, mythology and fiction alike, some characters are associated with their mounts to such a degree that one cannot be thought of without the other: Odin and Sleipnir, Bellerophon and Pegasus, Alexander and Bucephalus, Guan Yu and Red Hare, the Doctor and the TARDIS. Once again, though, Hindu mythology far surpasses the usual state of affairs: there, each god (or deva, as Hindu divinities prefer to be called) has his own sentient animal mount called a vahana, with a fully developed story and personality of its own (here I must note that Hindu gods also utilize non-animal vehicles such as vimanas, flying car-temples mentioned in a previous column). Most of them are considered to be divinities in their own right, and favors are asked of these divine beasts almost as frequently as their masters are besought, with their statues and icons more common than those of some lesser-known devas. This week is devoted to these blessed god-animals, their state of affairs, how they came to swear fealty to their lords and why they agreed to be their mounts.
Perhaps the most famous vahana is Nandi, the sacred bull. Bull cults were by no means uncommon in the ancient world: the Apis bull was an object of worship in ancient Egypt, while Hathor and Bat (among others) were goddesses associated with bovines. Early Anatolian civilizations adorned their dwellings with the iconography of bull and stag horns; the Greeks represented Poseidon himself as a mighty bull who caused earthquakes with every step; and cattle were sacred to the marriage goddess Hera. It therefore is no surprise that Nandi began his career as a separate deity, and signs of his worship apparently dates back to the Indus Valley civilization (which is in itself impressive, as the civilization in question dates back to the Bronze Age). He was initially a mirthful patron of song and dance, though his identity later merged with that of Shiva (who to this day is hailed as Nataraja, Lord of Dance), and he unceremoniously ended up subservient to the Destroyer.
He took this position in stride, however: in addition to being Shiva's mount, Nandi is now regarded as his foremost follower, his personal guardian (which amounts to being his secretary -- when you want to see Shiva, you first arrange an appointment with Nandi) and by some accounts the leader of his forces. So great was his devotion that when Shiva drank the world-destroying poison halahala spilled by the serpent Vasuki, Nandi shared his master's burden by licking up what poison Shiva couldn't drink. All the gods were worried about the bull's condition, for halahala was so potent that it could undo even gods -- but Shiva assured them that Nandi shared so much with him, there was naught he could do that the bull couldn't.
Other devas have equally colorful stories about how they've bonded with their sacred vehicle (by the way, "vehicle" derives from the same root as "vahana"), and the diversity of vahanas runs the full gamut: Indra, the king of gods, rides on a five- (or three-, or thirty-three-) headed elephant called Airavata; the elephant-headed prosperity god Ganesha's mount is a giant mouse called Mushika; the fierce devi (female deva) Durga is served by the equally fierce tiger Dawon; and, most curiously, the wealth god Kubera is oft depicted riding atop a man - I find it quite apt that a patron god of money sees it fit to choose Man as his vehicle.