Garuda

In the palace of the Naga serpents, under the cold light of their jewels, a woman sits in silence. Both her wrists are marked by chains. Her name is Vinata. Every day she must wait on the divine serpents as a slave. She bows her head to beings who should have no claim on her at all. But in her heart she still keeps one last hope. It is a large egg that she has kept warm for many years. She whispers to her child that only he can save his mother.

A goddess was made a slave, and it all began with a wager. Vinata and her sister Kadru argued about the color of the tail of Uchchaishravas, the divine horse. Vinata said the horse's tail was white. Kadru said it had black hairs in it. They agreed that whoever lost would become the other's slave. Kadru cheated. She sent her own children, the Naga, to cling to the horse's tail and turn it black. So Vinata lost, and she was put in chains.

Then the egg hatched. Out of the shell stepped a dazzling creature, half man and half bird, with wings so wide they seemed to cover the whole sky. That was Garuda. The moment he was born, he saw his mother kneeling in chains. Garuda walked up to the Naga and raised his head high. Like a devoted son, he asked what he must do to buy back his mother. The Naga laughed and set a condition that seemed impossible: he must bring them amrita, the water of eternal life from the heavens. It was a treasure that even the gods guarded more closely than anything else.

Garuda spread his wings and flew up to Svarga, the realm of heaven. The first gate was a huge ring of fire that turned without stopping. Its tongues of flame licked across the sky. The heat poured down. It seemed that no living thing would dare come near. Garuda did not hold back for a moment. He swooped down to the earth and, with his wide beak, drank dry the water of many rivers. Then he flew back up, sprayed the water to put out the ring of fire, and shot straight through the gap.

The second gate was a fence of blades that spun without pause. They were razor sharp and packed so tight that it seemed not a single crack was left. Garuda looked very carefully. Then something strange happened. The giant bird drew himself in and grew smaller and smaller, until he was as tiny as a sparrow. He slipped gently through the gap between two blades. On the other side, he grew large again.

The last gate was two enormous serpents whose eyes blazed with fire. They kept watch right beside the jar of amrita. Once again Garuda thought of a trick. He beat his wings hard and raised a thick storm of dust that filled the air. The two serpents were blinded and could see nothing at all. Garuda slipped quickly past them and reached the jar of the water of eternal life.

As Garuda flew off holding the jar of amrita, Indra, the king of the gods, chased after him. Indra hurled his famous thunderbolt. But the bolt struck Garuda and did him no harm at all. Indra was amazed by his strength and by his heart. So instead of fighting, Indra asked to become Garuda's friend.

Then the god Vishnu appeared. He was so moved by Garuda that he granted him immortality, without Garuda having to drink a single drop of amrita. In return, Garuda vowed to become a vahana, the faithful mount that carries Vishnu through all the worlds. At that moment, Garuda's heart held only one thought. He did not need to live forever for himself. He only needed to bring his mother out of her chains.

Garuda carried the jar of amrita back to the Naga, but he had one last move to play. He set the jar down on a bed of sacred kusha grass. Then he told the Naga to go and bathe, so they would be clean before they received the treasure. The Naga hurried off happily to bathe. Just then, as they had agreed beforehand, Indra flew down and carried the jar of amrita back to heaven. When the Naga came back, only the bare grass was left. It is said that, full of regret, they licked the kusha grass. That is how folk tradition explains why a snake's tongue is split in two. But the most important thing was done. The promise to bring back the amrita had been kept in full, and still the Naga never drank it. And Vinata, the mother, stepped out of her chains, free.

The image of Garuda does not stay far off in the heavens. It has left its mark on central Vietnam. At the Museum of Cham Sculpture in Da Nang, and at the Mỹ Sơn Sanctuary, the ancient Cham carved Garuda into stone. The Cham are a people of south-central Vietnam whose ancestors lived in the ancient kingdom of Champa. In their carvings, his wings spread wide, as if he were holding up the whole roof of the temple above. Garuda is also a national symbol of Thailand, where people call him Krut. In Indonesia, he is the figure on the national emblem, called Garuda Pancasila.

In the Museum of Cham Sculpture beside the Hàn River, and on the moss-covered Cham towers of the Mỹ Sơn valley, the stone Garuda still stands. His wings are raised as if he were about to fly into the sunlight. Quietly, he carries a thousand years of wind and rain on his stone shoulders. Any child who has ever loved a mother and a father, standing before that stone, will understand why a divine bird would dare to fly through fire, through blades, through serpents. All of it, just for one mother.