सनातन पुस्तकालय Sanatan Cultural Library

The Maha Shivaratri fast is kept on the Chaturdashi of the dark fortnight of the month of Phalguna (in the amanta calendar the same tithi is called Magha Krishna Chaturdashi). After bathing in the morning, the vow of the fast is taken before Shiva. Devotees stay without food or take only fruit through the day; grain is given up. The heart of this vrat is the night vigil and the worship of the four prahars. The night from evening to the next sunrise is divided into four watches, and in each watch the Shivalinga is bathed — with water, milk, curd, ghee, honey and Ganga water. Then sandalwood, unbroken rice, bilva leaves, dhatura, aak flowers, bhang, ber fruit, incense and lamp are offered. The bilva leaf should have three leaflets, be whole and untorn, and be offered with its smooth side towards the linga. The nishita kaal at midnight is held to be the most auspicious time for Shiva's worship. The whole night is filled with chanting "Om Namah Shivaya", Shiva bhajans and hearing the katha. Hear the katha together after the puja of one of the prahars. The next morning, after bathing and worship, and giving to a Brahmin or someone in need, the fast is broken while the Chaturdashi tithi still lasts. Those who cannot stay awake all night should at least perform the nishita kaal worship.

Once on Mount Kailash, when Lord Shankar rose from meditation, Mother Parvati humbly asked: "O Lord! The people of the world keep many vrats and perform many kinds of worship. Which vrat is dearest of all to you — one by which even an ordinary person may win your grace?" Mahadev was pleased and said, "Devi, the night of Phalguna Krishna Chaturdashi is dearest of all to me. The being who fasts that night, stays awake, and offers water and bilva leaves on my linga pleases me more than bathing rites, garments, incense or even great sacrifices. Such is the glory of this vrat that even worship done unknowingly is never wasted. Listen — I will tell you the story of a hunter."

In ancient times, near a dense forest, there lived a hunter named Chitrabhanu. (In another telling, the Shiva Purana gives his name as Gurudruh.) He fed his family by hunting animals and birds. In his home were his wife, his aged parents and small children, all depending on what he earned. He had no connection with religious practice; his whole life was spent with bow and arrow in the forest. Once, when he had found no game for many days, he borrowed money from a moneylender of the town to keep his household going. Time passed, but he could not repay the debt. The moneylender pressed him again and again, and every time Chitrabhanu put him off with some excuse. At last one day the moneylender's patience broke. He had his servants seize Chitrabhanu and kept him captive in a corner of the town's Shiva temple, a place the moneylender frequented. As it happened, that day was Phalguna Krishna Chaturdashi — Maha Shivaratri.

That day the Shiva temple was full of bustle. Devotees had been coming since morning to pour water on the Shivalinga, bells were ringing, and cries of "Har Har Mahadev" echoed. At midday a pandit ji told the devotees of the glory of Shivaratri and narrated Shiva's katha. Chitrabhanu sat right there as a captive, so, willing or not, the whole katha kept falling on his ears. He heard what great merit there is in fasting, keeping vigil and worshipping Shiva with bilva leaves on this night. All day he was given nothing to eat. And so, without knowing it, he had kept a fast. When evening came the moneylender called him and asked when he would repay the debt. Chitrabhanu joined his palms and said, "Seth ji, let me go today. Tomorrow itself I will hunt and repay all your money." The moneylender accepted his word and let him go. Chitrabhanu was faint with hunger and thirst, but he could not go home empty-handed. He set off straight for the forest. By then darkness was falling, and having been captive all day he had had no chance to hunt.

In the forest there was a lake where animals came to drink at night. Chitrabhanu thought it would be best to lie in wait right there. On the bank of the lake stood a thick bilva (bel) tree. He took a little water with him in a vessel, climbed the tree and began making a place for himself among the branches. He did not know that beneath that very tree stood an ancient Shivalinga, hidden under dry bilva leaves. The twigs and leaves he broke off and dropped while making his seat fell straight onto the Shivalinga. Hungry and thirsty from the whole day, Chitrabhanu kept wetting his lips with the water, and drops spilling from the vessel trickled down onto the linga too. Thus, without his knowing, his hands began bathing the Shivalinga with water and offering it bilva leaves. As the first prahar of the night drew to its close, a pregnant doe came to the lake to drink. Chitrabhanu at once set an arrow to his bow. His movement shook down more bilva leaves and drops of water onto the linga — unknowingly, the worship of the first prahar was complete. Hearing the sound, the doe looked up and said in a trembling voice, "O hunter! Do not kill me. I am with young and my time is near. You would be killing two lives at once, which is not right. Let me go; after giving birth I will come back to you myself. I give you my word, swearing by Shiva." Chitrabhanu's mind, which had heard Shiva's katha all day, somehow softened a little. He lowered his arrow and let the doe go. She vanished into the bushes.

Some time passed. The night grew deeper and hunger tormented Chitrabhanu still more. He thought, "One prey has already slipped from my hands today. If another comes, I will not let it go." In the second prahar another doe came that way. She seemed to be searching about for someone. Chitrabhanu raised his bow again. Again bilva leaves and water fell on the Shivalinga, and unknowingly the worship of the second prahar was done as well. The doe saw him and pleaded, "O hunter! I have been parted from my mate and am wandering in search of him. I am distraught at our separation; killing me would bring you only sin. Let me go and meet my husband; then I will come to you of my own accord. One who breaks a promise loses all his merit — I will not break mine." Chitrabhanu was torn. Within him pity and hunger struggled. In the end he let this doe go too. Inwardly he was also vexed with himself: "Two prey let go — and at home the children sit hungry."

The third prahar came. Midnight had now passed. Just then a doe was seen coming towards the lake with her little fawns. Chitrabhanu thought, "This time I will hear no excuse." He fitted his arrow, and with his stirring, bilva leaves and water again reached the Shivalinga. The worship of the third prahar, too, was unknowingly complete. The doe bowed her head as if joining her hands and said, "O hunter! Let me leave these young ones with their father, and then I will return. What will you gain by making these little ones orphans?" Chitrabhanu laughed and said, "I am not such a fool as to let go of prey standing before me. Two does have already gone off on their promises. My own children too sit hungry at home." The doe said, "Just as you are anxious for your children, so am I for mine. I swear by dharma — after handing them to their father I will return at once." There was such truth in her voice that Chitrabhanu's heart melted. Looking at the fawns, he remembered his own children. For the third time he lowered his arrow.

Worn out by hunger, thirst and the long night's waking, Chitrabhanu passed the time by plucking bilva leaves and dropping them down, and all of them came to rest on the Shivalinga. Before dawn, in the fourth prahar, a strong, well-built stag came along the same path. Chitrabhanu resolved that this time he would not let it go on any account. As he raised his bow, bilva leaves and water again fell on the linga — the worship of the fourth prahar, too, was complete. The stag saw him and said in a calm voice, "O hunter! If you have killed the three does and the little ones who came before me, then kill me too, at once, so that I need not bear even a moment's grief at their loss. But if you have granted them life, then give me a little time as well. They are my wives and my children. After meeting them and comforting them, I will come back to you." Chitrabhanu told him everything that had happened through the night. The stag said, "My three wives have gone having given their word; if I do not return, their word too will be made false. Trust me — I will soon stand before you with my whole family." By the fast, the vigil and the worship of the four prahars, all done unknowingly, Chitrabhanu's mind had by now become entirely pure. He let the stag go as well.

In a little while, as light began to spread in the east, Chitrabhanu saw the stag standing on the bank of the lake with his three does and the fawns. The pregnant doe had given birth, and she too was with them. With one voice they all said, "O hunter! We have come to keep our word. Now kill us and feed your family." At this sight Chitrabhanu was struck still. The bow slipped from his hand. Tears flowed from his eyes. He thought within himself, "These, though only beasts of the forest, are ready to give their lives for truth and for the good of another — while I, a human being, have spent my whole life in violence and deceit. Shame on such a life as mine!" He came down from the tree, bowed to the deer family and said, "Go, all of you, and be happy. From today I will kill no living creature." He broke his bow and arrows and threw them away. At that moment his gaze fell beneath the tree, and he saw that under the bilva leaves he had been dropping all night was a Shivalinga, on which his own hands had been offering water and bilva all along. Overcome with feeling, he lay full length before the Shivalinga in prostration.

At that very moment a divine light spread all around and Lord Shiva himself appeared. The gods showered flowers from the sky. Mahadev, well pleased, said, "O hunter! Today was Maha Shivaratri. You fasted all day, heard my katha, stayed awake all night and offered me water and bilva leaves through all four prahars. Though you did all this unknowingly, by its merit your sins have been burned to ash. And above all, you showed mercy to these creatures. I am exceedingly pleased with you." Shiva blessed him with happiness and prosperity, and at the end, with his own abode. The deer family too, for their truthfulness, attained a divine state. (In another telling, some traditions say the deer family came to shine in the sky as the Mrigashira nakshatra.) Chitrabhanu spent the rest of his life in devotion to Shiva and in right conduct, and when his last hour came, it was not Yama's messengers but Shiva's ganas who came for him and carried him with honour to Shivaloka. In the Shiva Purana's telling this hunter is named Gurudruh. There Lord Shiva gives him the name "Guha" and grants that in the Treta Yuga, at Shringaverapura, he will have the good fortune of Lord Shri Rama's darshan and friendship. That same Guha, as the Nishad king, served Shri Rama and in the end attained liberation. In the Mahabharata tradition too there is the account of King Chitrabhanu, who remembered this very Shivaratri vrat kept unknowingly when he was a hunter in a former birth, and who for that reason kept the vrat every year even as a king.

Along with the hunter's story, two more traditions linked to Maha Shivaratri are remembered with devotion. The first is the marriage of Shiva and Parvati. In many regions it is believed that on this holy night Lord Shiva and Mother Parvati were wed. Mother Parvati won Mahadev as her husband through fierce austerity, and Shiva arrived at Himavan's door with a wondrous wedding procession of ghosts, spirits, ganas and gods. That is why in many temples a Shiva barat goes out on this day and the festival of Shiva's wedding is celebrated. The second is the appearance of the jyotirlinga. Once Brahma ji and Lord Vishnu disputed over which of the two was the greater. Just then an endless pillar of fire appeared between them. To find its end, Vishnu ji went downward as a boar and Brahma ji upward as a swan, but neither could find its beginning or its end. Then Lord Shiva emerged from that pillar of light, and both acknowledged his infinite greatness. By tradition, this manifestation of Shiva in the form of the linga took place on the night of this Chaturdashi, which is why worship of the Shivalinga on this night holds special importance.

If a hunter's sins were destroyed and he attained Shivaloka through fasting, vigil and bilva offerings made unknowingly, what can be said of the fruit for the devotee who keeps the Maha Shivaratri vrat knowingly, with faith and love! For the one who tells or hears this katha, violence, deceit and pride depart from the mind, peace and happiness come into the home, and Bholenath fulfils every rightful wish. At the end of the katha, offer water and bilva leaves on the Shivalinga, perform Shiva's aarti and share the prasad. The greatest lesson of this story is that the true vrat lies in compassion and truth — as the deer kept their word and the hunter embraced mercy. Say: Victory to Bholenath! Har Har Mahadev! Om Namah Shivaya!