Part 1: Blowing of the Pāñcajanya conch by Nemi

And now Nemi, wandering about with the princes in sport, entered Vāsudeva’s armory without hesitation. There the prince saw the cakra very brilliant like the sun, the bow Śārṅga, (the club) Kaumodakī, the sword (Nandaka), terrifying as the coils of the king of serpents, and (the conch) Pāṭcajanya, the very loud musical instrument of the prologue of the play of battle, which were like a treasury of Viṣṇu’s glory. Recognizing Ariṣṭanemi, who intended to pick up the conch from curiosity, Cārukṛṣṇa, the keeper of the armory, bowed and said:

“Even though you are Mari’s brother and are very powerful, nevertheless you are not able to lift, much less to blow the conch. For no one, except Mari, is able to lift and blow the conch. Do not make the effort uselessly.”

Nemi smiled, lifted the conch with ease and blew it which resembled moonlight to the teeth resting on the lower lip. Its sound, rivaling the sound of the ocean with high waves collected against Dvārakā’s walls, filled heaven and earth. The ramparts, mountain-peaks, and palaces shook; Sīrabhṛt, Śārṅgin, and the other Daśārhas trembled. Elephants, having pulled up their posts, their chains broken, quivered. Horses threw off their bridles and ran away. People of the town swooned at its sound like a clap of thunder; the guards at the armory fell down and remained like dead men.

Govinda thought: “Who has blown the conch? Has some cakrin arisen or has Indra come to earth? When I blew the conch, there was terror on the part of all the kings; but when the conch was blown by that person, there was terror on the part of Rāma and me.” As Kṛṣṇa was so reflecting, the armory-guards reported to him, “Just now Ariṣṭanemi blew Pāṭcajanya with ease.” While Hari stood astonished at hearing that, Nemi came there. Kṛṣṇa, dissimulating, hastily seated Lord Nemi on a priceless throne and said with respect: “Why did you blow Pāṭcajanya just now, brother? All the world is terrified even now by its sound.” Nemi said, “Very well”; and Kṛṣṇa, wishing to test his strength of arm himself, said to him respectfully: “No one but me was able to blow Pāṭcajanya. Now I am pleased that you have blown it. To please me especially, show me your strength of arm. Compete with me in a wrestling-match, honor-giver!” He said, “Let it be so,” and the brothers, eminent heroes, went to the armory, attended by the princes.

Nemi, compassionate by nature, thought: “How is Kṛṣṇa to be defeated—by my chest, arm, or foot? I shall do so that he will not suffer injury and will know the strength of my arm.” He said to Janārdana: “The fight of vulgar persons is often full of rolling on the ground. So may our light consist only of bending each other’s arm.” Viṣṇu agreed to that and raised his arm, long as a tree branch; Nemi bent it like a lotus-stem. In the same way Neminātha lifted his own left arm and Viṣṇu clung to it with all his strength, like a monkey to a tree. The pillar of Nemi’s arm was not bent in the least by Viṣṇu, like the peak of a great mountain by a forest-elephant.

Releasing the pillar of Nemi’s arm, Śārṅgabhṛt, concealing his embarrassment, embraced Neminātha, and said: “Just as Rāma considers the world as straw compared with my strength, so I think the universe is straw compared with your strength, brother.” With these words, Viṣṇu dismissed Nemi and said to Sīrin:

“Brother, you have seen our brother’s strength, the best in three worlds. As I, an ardhacakrin, was on his arm like a bird on a tree, I think no cakrin nor Indra is equal to him in strength. Will he not conquer all of Bharata by such strength? Will our younger brother remain thus (as he is)?

Rāma said: “Just as he is known to be superior to a cakrin in strength, so he is characterized by the personification of tranquillity, indifferent to sovereignty.” As Rāma said this, a deity saw Hari afraid of his younger brother’s strength and said: “Do not worry. Hear the Jina’s words. Formerly it was said by Jina Nami: ‘Nemi will be an Arhat. So, though being in fact a prince, he will have nothing to do with sovereignty.’ Waiting for the proper time, a celibate from birth, he will adopt mendicancy. Do not think otherwise, Kṛṣṇa.”

Thus assured by the deity, Kṛṣṇa, pleased, dismissed Rāma, went to the women’s quarters, and summoned Nemi. The two, Śārṅgin and Nemi, seated on jeweled thrones there, bathed at the same time, pitchers of water being poured (over them) by courtesans. Hari and Nemi took their food right there, their bodies rubbed dry with devadūṣya cloth, anointed with divine sandal.

Then Kṛṣṇa said to the chamberlains: “This brother of mine, Nemi, is superior to us ourselves. There must be no interference with him anywhere in the harem. Prince Nemi may sport in the midst of all his brother’s wives. There is no fault at all on your part.” He said to his wives, Bhāmā and the others: “Nemi is the breath of life to me. He must be honored like your husband’s younger brother.^[1] He may be allowed to play without hesitation.”

At these instructions by Śārṅgin, Nemi was honored in the harem by them, but unchanged, averse to pleasure, he went away. Hari, delighted, sported on pleasure-mountains, et cetera with his harem together with Ariṣṭanemi, making no distinction between him and himself.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

A younger brother-in-law has more privileges than an older one. In fact, Kṛṣṇa and Nemi were cousins.