Divine Mischief & Celestial Secrets
In the vast expanse of Indian mythological tradition, perhaps no concept is more central yet elusive than that of lila-divine play. Unlike Western theological traditions that often emphasize divine solemnity and cosmic order, Hindu traditions recognize playfulness as an essential quality of ultimate reality. The universe itself is understood as the outcome of divine play rather than necessity or obligation. As the Brahma Vaivarta Purana suggests, "The Supreme creates not from need but from ananda (bliss)," establishing creation itself as an expression of divine delight rather than cosmic duty.
This playfulness manifests most vividly in tales of divine mischief, where gods and goddesses engage in behavior that might seem frivolous, deceptive, or even transgressive when judged by ordinary moral standards. Yet these narratives reveal a deeper understanding of divinity as transcending conventional categories while simultaneously engaging intimately with the created world. The mischievous deity embodies paradox-all-knowing yet spontaneous, all-powerful yet vulnerable, transcendent yet immanent.
The concept of lila appears explicitly in Vaishnava traditions, particularly in relation to Krishna's playful exploits in Vrindavan. The Bhagavata Purana devotes extensive passages to Krishna's butter theft, his teasing of gopis (cowherd women), and his multiplication into countless forms to dance simultaneously with each devotee-all characterized as lila. Less widely known are the lila narratives associated with other deities: Shiva's playful disruption of sages' rituals in the Daruka forest, Devi's game of cosmic hide-and-seek described in the Devi Bhagavata, or Ganesha's clever circumnavigation of the world recounted in regional Puranas.
These divine play narratives serve multiple functions within Hindu tradition. They humanize the divine, making transcendent reality accessible through relatable (if extraordinary) behaviors. They demonstrate divine freedom from conventional limitations, including moral rules that bind ordinary beings. Perhaps most importantly, they reveal the universe itself as fundamentally playful rather than purposeful in conventional terms-a cosmic dance performed for its own sake rather than toward some external goal.
The Tamil saint Manikkavasagar captured this understanding in his Tiruvachakam hymns when he addressed Shiva as "the player of games beyond comprehension." This recognition of divine play invites devotees to approach spiritual life not merely as solemn duty but as joyful participation in cosmic lila-finding liberation not by escaping the world but by recognizing its playful essence. As the Chandogya Upanishad suggests, "That which is the finest essence-this whole world has that as its soul. That is Reality. That is Atman. That art Thou." The playful deity thus becomes not merely an object of worship but a mirror reflecting the devotee's own essential nature.
Mohini and the Churning of Secrets
Long before the world as we know it took shape, when the cosmos was young and the boundaries between realms were still forming, the devas (gods) and asuras (demons) found themselves in a peculiar alliance. Both sought the amrita-the divine nectar of immortality-hidden in the depths of the cosmic ocean. Neither faction could obtain it alone, so they agreed to a temporary truce, joining forces to churn the great ocean of milk, Kshirasagara.
The mighty Mount Mandara served as the churning rod, while Vasuki, the king of serpents, became the churning rope. The devas held the tail, the asuras the head. As they pulled back and forth in rhythmic motion, the mountain began to sink into the soft ocean bed. Seeing this, Lord Vishnu transformed into a great tortoise, Kurma, and supported the mountain on his shell.
The churning continued for a thousand celestial years. First emerged the deadly poison, Halahala, threatening to destroy all creation. Lord Shiva consumed it, saving the universe, though his throat turned blue from holding the poison there. Then came wondrous treasures: Kamadhenu, the wish-fulfilling cow; Ucchaisravas, the seven-headed horse; Airavata, the white elephant; Kaustubha, the most precious of gems; and finally, Dhanvantari, the divine physician, rose from the waters holding the pot of amrita.
The moment the amrita appeared, chaos erupted. The asuras, stronger and swifter, seized the pot and fled. The devas, dismayed, turned to Lord Vishnu for help. It was then that Vishnu enacted one of his most cunning strategies-one that many tellings of the churning tale mention only briefly, if at all.
Vishnu transformed himself into Mohini, a woman of such extraordinary beauty that none who gazed upon her could resist her charms. Her form was perfection itself-neither too tall nor too short, her complexion like molten gold, her eyes shaped like lotus petals, her waist slender, her hips full, her gait like that of an elephant in rut. She wore simple garments that somehow enhanced rather than concealed her beauty, and the fragrance of celestial flowers followed her every movement.
But what the common tellings fail to reveal is that Mohini was not merely beautiful-she was the embodiment of maya, cosmic illusion, in its most potent form. Her beauty was not just physical but metaphysical, containing within it the paradox of existence itself. Those who looked upon her saw not just a beautiful woman but the fulfillment of their deepest desires, the answer to questions they had not yet formed, the solution to riddles they did not know troubled them.
Mohini approached the celebrating asuras with a smile that contained both innocence and ancient wisdom. Her voice, when she spoke, was like the first rainfall after a long drought-both soothing and electrifying.
"Mighty asuras," she said, her words flowing like honey, "what a glorious victory you have achieved! After a thousand years of labor, the amrita is yours. Surely such a prize deserves a proper ceremony of distribution?"
The asuras, entranced, could only nod in agreement. Even Bali, the wisest among them, found himself unable to form a coherent thought in her presence.
"Allow me," Mohini continued, "to serve the amrita. I have no stake in this ancient rivalry between yourselves and the devas. I can ensure fair distribution according to merit and rank."
The asuras, who had been on the verge of fighting amongst themselves over the nectar, readily agreed. They arranged themselves in rows, each boasting of his prowess and rightful claim to drink first.
What happened next is where the hidden tale diverges most significantly from common knowledge. Mohini did not simply trick the asuras through a straightforward deception. She initiated a complex ritual of distribution that contained within it profound cosmic symbolism-a ritual so mesmerizing that the asuras failed to notice its true purpose.
She began by drawing a mandala on the ground-a geometric pattern representing the cosmos itself. She placed the pot of amrita at its center and walked around it seven times, reciting mantras in a language so ancient that even the oldest asuras could not comprehend it. With each circumambulation, the mandala seemed to pulse with energy, and the asuras found themselves unable to move from their designated positions.
Mohini then explained that the distribution would follow the laws of dharma-cosmic order. She would ask each recipient a riddle, and their answer would determine the quantity they received. The asuras, confident in their wisdom, agreed eagerly.
The first riddle she posed was: "What exists before existence itself?"
The asuras debated among themselves, offering answers ranging from "chaos" to "desire" to "necessity." As they argued, Mohini began serving the devas, who had quietly assembled on the other side of the mandala. To each deva, she whispered the true answer: "Potential."
The second riddle was: "What is stronger than strength?"
Again, the asuras offered various answers: "cunning," "numbers," "determination." And again, Mohini served the devas while the asuras deliberated, whispering to each immortal god: "Restraint."
This pattern continued, with each riddle more profound than the last, each answer more elusive. The asuras, entranced by the intellectual challenge and by Mohini herself, failed to notice that the pot was emptying as the devas drank their fill.
One asura, however, saw through the illusion. Rahu, clever and suspicious, disguised himself as a deva and sat among them. When Mohini came to him with the amrita, he drank quickly. But before the nectar could grant him full immortality, Surya and Chandra, the sun and moon gods, recognized him and alerted Vishnu. Mohini immediately transformed back into Vishnu and used the Sudarshana Chakra, his divine discus, to decapitate Rahu.
But the amrita had already passed Rahu's throat, rendering his head immortal while his body remained mortal. Thus was born the eternal enemy of the sun and moon, who swallows them during eclipses only to have them emerge again from his severed neck.
What is less known is what happened after this dramatic moment. The asuras, realizing they had been deceived, charged at the devas in fury. But something strange occurred-they found themselves unable to harm their enemies. The amrita had changed the devas in ways beyond mere immortality; it had granted them a portion of the cosmic truth, making them partially transcendent to the material laws of cause and effect.
Mohini reappeared then, no longer as the seductress but as the teacher. She explained to the asuras that the true amrita was not the liquid in the pot but the wisdom contained in the riddles she had posed. Those who...