Parshvanatha and the Snake in the Fire

Dadi**: Guddu beta, tonight's story is about how saving one snake changed the course of a Tirthankara's life - twice!

Guddu**: Saving a snake? Usually people run from snakes!

Dadi**: Not Prince Parshvanatha! He would become the 23rd Tirthankara of Jainism, and his story begins with a fire ritual gone wrong.

Guddu**: What happened?

Dadi**: In a forest near Varanasi, a hermit named Kamath was performing a sacrificial fire ritual. All around him, flames burned fiercely as he chanted mantras.

Guddu**: That sounds like a normal ritual.

Dadi**: It would have been, except Prince Parshvanatha had special vision - he could see things others couldn't. As he passed by, he noticed something terrible. Inside one of the logs in the fire, a snake was burning alive!

Guddu**: Oh no! The poor snake!

Dadi**: The prince immediately stopped and told the hermit, "There's a living creature in your fire! This is unintended violence!" But Kamath was offended. He was a proud ascetic who thought he knew better.

Guddu**: Did he listen?

Dadi**: He refused to believe it! "I am a holy man," he said. "There is no life being harmed in my ritual." But the prince ordered his men to carefully remove the burning log and split it open.

Guddu**: What did they find?

Dadi**: A half-burnt snake emerged from the wood, terribly injured. It died moments later, but Prince Parshvanatha recited the sacred Navakar Mantra for its soul.

Guddu**: Did the prayer help?

Dadi**: Because of the prince's compassion and the sacred words, that snake was reborn as Dharanendra - a powerful divine being! But Kamath, the hermit, died soon after with anger and hatred in his heart toward the prince.

Guddu**: What happened to Kamath?

Dadi**: He was reborn as Meghmali - a powerful celestial being who controlled rain. But he still carried his old hatred for Parshvanatha from their past life.

Guddu**: Hatred lasting through rebirths?

Dadi**: Karma carries forward, beta. Years later, when Parshvanatha was deep in meditation under a tree, Meghmali recognized him. "Now is my chance for revenge," he thought.

Guddu**: What did he do?

Dadi**: He sent every terror he could imagine - fierce elephants, roaring lions, venomous snakes, all attacking the meditating prince. But Parshvanatha didn't flinch. His meditation was unbreakable.

Guddu**: He wasn't scared at all?

Dadi**: Not even a tremor! So Meghmali tried something worse - he brought torrential rains. Water began to rise around Parshvanatha, climbing higher and higher, threatening to drown him.

Guddu**: How could he survive that?!

Dadi**: Remember the snake he saved? Dharanendra sensed his savior was in danger. He rose up, spreading his massive hood over Parshvanatha like an umbrella. The water couldn't touch the Tirthankara!

Guddu**: The snake he saved came back to save him!

Dadi**: Exactly, beta! The good karma from that one act of compassion returned at the crucial moment. Seeing this divine protection, Meghmali's anger finally broke. He realized his hatred was futile against true righteousness.

Guddu**: Did he become good?

Dadi**: He begged forgiveness and became a devotee instead. His hatred transformed into reverence.

Guddu**: So saving the snake had such a big effect!

Dadi**: Every act of kindness ripples through time, beta. The Jains especially remember this story because it shows ahimsa - non-violence - in action. Parshvanatha didn't just talk about not harming creatures; he stopped a ritual to save one snake.

Guddu**: And that snake saved him back.

Dadi**: That's the cosmic balance. What we give, we receive. Kindness begets kindness. Even to the smallest creatures.

Guddu**: I'll always try to help animals, Dadi.

Dadi**: And they may help you in ways you never expect! Goodnight, beta.

Guddu**: Goodnight, Dadi!