Hybrid and Sea-creatures

Fabulous hybrids of real and imaginary fauna occupy a realm of great vitality in art form. The most popular in sacred art are the vyālas–dragon-like creatures with leonine bodies and flaming manes, foliated tails and pointed ears, sharp clans, curving tusks and protruding eyes. A sub-species, the Gaja-vyāla (elephant-vyāla), is characterised by a pronounced elephant-trunk.

[23. Gaja-vyāla, Sun Temple, Konark, Odisha. Photo courtesy: V. Ram]

For all their terrifying attributes, however, vyālas are benign entities, positioned on the walk of temples toward off inauspicious forces. The creatures come in diverse styles and sizes. In the twelfth to thirteenth century temples of Odisha, a teeming population of Gaja-vyālas rear between pilasters, clutching comatose warriors in their trunks and crushing trolls under foot. Sharing wall-space will Khajuraho’s eclectic lovers, they prance over crouching elephants with trunks entwined with prehensile tails. At Srirangam in South India, the piers of a ceremonial hall are each sculpted with figures of raring horses, goggle-eyed vyāla warriors and realistic animals, the vyālas and elephants amicably link trunks.^[1]

Sea-monsters and mythical serpents have a less cordial relationship with the elephants. A particularly vicious foe is the amphibious Makara-a crocodilian hybrid with foliated jaw, clawed feet, feathery fins and flamboyantly scrolled tail. According to Purāṇas–there dwelt a royal elephant on the slopes of Triple Peak. He wandered through the forests with his herd of wives. Forever with the juice exuding from his temples, he plunged one day into a lake to quench his thirst; after drinking deep, he took water in his trunk and gave it to his wives and children. But just then an angry crocodile attacked him, and the two struggled for an endless time, each striving to draw the other toward himself. Piteously the elephant trumpeted from the bank, but they could not help. At last the royal elephant grew weak, but the crocodile was not yet weary, for he was at home in his own elements. Then the royal elephant prayed ardently and with devotion to the Adorable, the Supreme Being; at once came Viṣṇu, seated upon Garuḍa, attended by the Devas. He drew forth the crocodile and severed its neck with a cast of his discus, and so saved the royal elephant.

This was the working out of an old curse the elephant was a Vaiṣṇva king Indradyumna, who is at his prayers one morning when the sage Agastya arrives at the palace Indradyumana cannot break off his prayers to receive the visitor; Agastya takes umbrage and curses the king that he may turn into an elephant. Emerging from his prayers, Indradyumna is horrified to hear that he has been cursed. As small consolation, Agastya tells him that the curse would only come undone if the King’s beloved Viṣṇu were to ever reach out to save him. The elephant of the story stands for the typical human soul of our age, exited by desires; given over too much to sensual pleasure, the demon would have carried him away, he knew not where. There was no salvation for him until he called on Viṣṇu, who speedily saves all those who call upon him with devotion.^[2]

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

V. Ram., p.40.

[2]:

Coomaraswamy and Nivedita. Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists, pp.331-332.