In the primordial days of the cosmos, when the world was still settling into its divine order and the celestial hierarchies were being established, there existed a realm of unimaginable splendor located at the axis of the universe: Mount Meru. This golden mountain, often associated with the physical majesty of Mount Kailash in the earthly realm, was not merely a geographical landmark but the metaphysical center of all existence. Around the slopes of Meru, where the ether met the earth and the waters of the celestial oceans swirled, lived the Nagas—the great serpent beings of immense power and wisdom, yet burdened by a profound and timeless hunger.
The Nagas were masters of the underworld, Patala, but they frequently ascended to the higher realms to seek the treasures of the gods. They were creatures of duality, capable of shifting their forms from massive, scaled serpents to ethereal humanoids with shimmering crowns. Despite their nobility and their role as guardians of the subterranean gems, the Nagas possessed a flaw that would eventually define their physical form for eternity: a deep-seated, insatiable greed. They did not crave gold or jewels, for they lived amongst them in the depths of the earth; rather, they craved the essence of purity and the spiritual potency that existed only in the most sacred of flora.
Among the many wonders that grew upon the slopes of Mount Meru was the Kusha grass, known in the sacred texts as Darbha or Pavitram. To the eyes of a mortal, it might have seemed like a simple blade of grass, but to the spiritual beings of the universe, it was a conduit of divine energy. The Kusha grass was renowned for its ritual purity and its ability to cleanse the environment of negative energies. It was said that the grass grew in alignment with the cosmic vibrations of the mountain, its blades becoming as sharp as the finest diamond-edged swords and as pure as the breath of the gods. Because of its purity, it was used in the highest of Vedic rituals, acting as a bridge between the earthly plane and the divine.
As the Nagas looked upon the shimmering fields of Kusha grass, they were consumed by a desire that eclipsed all reason. They believed that if they could ingest the grass, the purity and potency of the Pavitram would merge with their own essence. They imagined that by consuming the sacred blades, they would transcend their serpentine nature and ascend to the status of the Devas, the shining ones. This greed was not born of necessity, but of a desire for power and a spiritual status that could not be earned through meditation or virtue, but only through the theft of nature's sacred gifts.
One afternoon, when the sun cast a golden hue over the peaks of Meru, a great assembly of Nagas gathered at the edge of the sacred meadows. Their leader, a serpent of immense size with scales that mirrored the deep indigo of the midnight sky, urged the others forward. 'Behold the Kusha!' he hissed, his voice like the wind rushing through a canyon. 'The gods keep this purity for themselves, but we, the children of the deep, shall claim it. One lick of these blades, and we shall be cleansed of all impurities. We shall become the masters of the celestial heights, and the gods shall bow to the purity we have stolen.'
Driven by this singular obsession, the Nagas descended upon the fields. They did not approach the grass with reverence or ritual, but with a hunger that was aggressive and blind. One by one, they extended their long, flickering tongues to taste the purity of the Kusha. They did not realize that the very purity they sought was protected by a physical manifestation of its spiritual power: the blades were infinitesimally sharp, designed to cut through any impurity that dared to touch them without the proper initiation.
As the first Naga pressed his tongue against a blade of Kusha grass, the result was instantaneous. The blade did not bend; it did not break. Instead, it acted as a cosmic razor, slicing cleanly through the center of the Naga's tongue. The serpent recoiled in shock and pain, but the greed that had clouded his mind was stronger than the fear of injury. He looked at his tongue and saw that it had been split perfectly in two, yet the taste of the purity remained. In his delusion, he believed the splitting was a sign of the grass's power entering him, and he urged the others to follow.