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Starring in it are the anti-hero explorer Paurva, the cult goddess Ardvi Sura Anahita (a.k.a. Aban), and the hero physician Thraitaona (a.k.a. Shah Faridun) with his adversary Azi-Dahaka (a.k.a. Zohhak). Others are subsidiary to the plot. To set its scene, see the Central Asia map and trace a diagonal from the top left-hand corner, where the mighty Volga — the Ranha river of our Vandidad — enters the Caspian Sea, towards the lower right hand, stopping short in the Kabul-Peshawar area.

Somewhat later than long, long ago, there dwelt by the banks of the River Ranha a restless wanderer, a temperamental fellow named Paurva — perhaps the original Volga boatman. His spirit of adventure led him to explore the overland route, skirting the dread Kara Boghaz inlet, and along the several lakes and marshy shallows dotting the Kara-Kum depression. His destination was eastern Afghanistan whence he hoped to navigate the Kabul river past its confluence with the Indus where Iranian settlers mingled with the ancient Indians.

The first fragard (chapter) of the Avestic Vandidad contains a list of 16 lands. First-named is Airyana Vaeja, the original homeland of the Aryans. The last-mentioned is the region of the flood-waters of the Ranha. Between these are 14 which can be traced, not without scholarly dissensions, on to modern-day maps. Whilst the location of Airyana Vaeja would seem to remain undecided, the northern steppes of Central Asia offer the best solution. This land-list represents far regions where Zoroastrian priestly missions had become established.

We are concerned here with the last-named — the Ranha. From its brief description, and its Sanskrit Rasa and Greek Rha, the River Volga seems assured. In Paurva’s time it was noted for several delta channels, the river itself having "banks lying afar.” The Volga, where it flows into the north-west Caspian Sea, is a mile wide (1,500 m) whose actual delta fronts some 100 miles. The eastern shores of the Caspian take part in our story.

A little, firstly, about the man himself. His name, Paurva, occurs only once in the course of our tale — in the Ardibehesht Yasht, the hymn of praise devoted largely to Ardvi Sura Anahita, the spiritual source of healing and deity of the waters, to whom he becomes gratefully beholden. Legends very quickly form around persons believed to inhabit remote antiquity. Such legendary lives become, in turn, the essence of mythology; Paurva’s was among these, he being remembered as a vifra or vafra navaza — highly-strung, excitable, perhaps even tetchy, navigator/explorer. But was there aught else?

There certainly must have been more to him than the exploit for which he is here remembered. Looking further, we see his name and homeland cropping up in, of all prayers, the brief Afrin-I Paigham­bar Zartusht or "Pro­phet Zarathush­tra’s Benediction,” as well as the Vishtasp Yasht. (This "Yasht” had, until recent times, been substituted — all eight chapters of it — in the Vandidad ceremony with its 22 fragards). What’s more, Paurva is lauded alongside Vish­taspa, Jamaspa and others great and good from actual history.

Paurva finds himself in a region between today’s eastern Afghanistan and Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province where Thraitaona, later famed as Shah Faridun, held court. Thraitaona, sometimes Thrita, hails from the Athwya clan, immensely rich cattle barons. He is best known, however, for his prowess as warrior-hero and physician extraordinary. Paurva, travel-worn, nevertheless made time to regale all and sundry with tales of his skills and exploits as wayfarer and, like the perennial bore, he seemed not to know when to stop. Perhaps he was the model for Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner?

At any rate, Thraitaona felt he had had enough of this travel-stained braggart; in fact he was getting very annoyed indeed with Paurva’s endless yarns. So, he mixed up one of his extra-special herbal spliffs (marijuana cigarettes) which he offered to the master-navigator — anything to shut him up. The result was spectacular!

A well smacked-up Paurva felt himself lifted bodily and hurled into the upper air. Dreadful to narrate, the poor fellow now believed he was a speeding vulture, except that instead of circling, he was compelled to fly a straight trajectory. And even worse, he just could not alight!

In this manner he hurtled on helplessly homeward — and read carefully! — for three days and nights. He was well and truly horribly affrighted. On the dawn after the third night — chaharom, anyone? — in his desperation he called out to Ardvi Sura Anahita for rescue. With his plea he vowed offerings to her of a thousand libations of pounded haoma and milk upon safely reaching his residence on the banks of the Volga. (Let it be noted that unlike most heroes of old, he did not offer vast animal sacrifices; even Yima/Jamshid had been condemned for it, and by no less than Zarathushtra who was reputed in the Yashts for refraining from blood sacrifices!)

Anahita, the Ardvi Sura, mighty water deity, thereupon sped to his rescue, seized him by the arm and gently lowered and deposited him right before his house. He duly fulfilled his vow. It is not recorded whether he set off on subsequent explorations, but with his safe delivery earthwards by Ardvi Sura Anahita we must leave Paurva in peace and solitude to ruminate on his misadventure. The story should end here, but there remain the intriguingly familiar bits — the vulture, three days and nights, the fourth dawn, and the non-flesh offerings. Had the headstrong Thraitaona inflicted upon Paurva something akin to a near-death experience? We must believe it so.

In the Vandidad Zarathushtra is curious to hear from Mazda, just where the corpse-polluted standing rainwater within the dakhmas ends up. Ahura Mazda’s explanation merits attention: those filthy waters go, via hidden underground channels, to the Sea Puitika where they evaporate into cloud, leaving behind their impurities, and get blown over the Vourukasha Sea, where they condense and fall as cleansing rain. A natural distillation cycle — would you agree?

It has for long been fashionable to dismiss these watery names as fiction from the realms of mythico-geography. This writer has argued differently and, with the attached map of Eurasia, perhaps some agreement may be found among his readers. Looking halfway down the eastern shoreline of the Caspian Sea — there will be seen a large blue blob — it is some 90 miles (130 kms) across each way.

What is remarkable is that this little sea is open to the Caspian on its west by a rocky inlet some 100 m long. Through this narrow gap the Caspian unceasingly pours into that shallow sea. On modern maps it is called the Kara Boghaz Gol, Turkmen for Black Maw Gulf.   

The reason why the Caspian never stops flowing into this little inland sea is that, due to its harsh desert surrounds there is constant high evaporation, with clouds of condensate pushed over the Caspian and there deposited as rain. Acting as a boiling-pan, this rapid vaporization leaves a salinity of some 30 percent — it’s Glauber’s salt (sodium sulphate decahydrate to those who’ve forgotten) — where nothing can live; it does, moreover, smell strongly and unpleasantly.

The Caspian is the Vourukasha of our story — it means "(having) wide bays,” which it has; the Puitika is the little sea whose name means "the little stinking one” (there are several rude Indo-European similarities of meaning, including "stench” and "gangrene”) which it does. The smelly picture is complete, and our much derided Vandidad is vindicated. Paurva would have had no difficulty in avoiding Puitika.

Thraitaona, the hero should here receive his due recognition. Physician and veterinarian, master of the three methods of healing — surgery, herbal cures, and sacred manthras — he encountered and entreated several divinities for the success of his various enterprises. The fact that he always offered animal sacrifices on a vast scale need not detain us, for, as Shah Faridun, he remains a cult hero much like the earlier Yima/Shah Jamshid the story of whose rise and fall is retailed elsewhere.

In those far-off days, all Iran fell under the sway of the Serpent-king Azi-Dahaka (a.k.a. Zohhak) who usurped the throne and inflicted great oppression, and worse, on an unfortunate, helpless populace. This usurper, a foreigner, a non-Iranian, and out-and-out daeva-yasnian blackguard — a real darvand! — had seized the kingship with the connivance of the ghastly counter-creating Ahriman. 

The manner of such unholy alliance was this: sensing Azi-Dahaka’s ambition to dominate Iran and depopulate the land by every foul means, this evil power assumed human shape (his normal appearance was like a slimy black toad!) and, giving himself out as a master chef, insinuated himself into Azi’s favor. Once there, this evil cook presented the gluttonous ruler with the choicest viands and lavish confections that hugely gratified him.

When Azi-Dahaka duly suggested a token of appreciation for his despicable chef, the wily cook asked only that he be allowed to kiss the king’s shoulders. Such honor being speedily granted, the Evil One planted his insidious caress on each shoulder, and then suddenly and completely vanished. 

And lo! From each of the king’s shoulders sprouted a writhing black serpent. Greatly afraid, this horrid being consulted his advisers on his best course of action to rid himself of these unwelcome monstrous presences. Ahriman-inspired, they claimed the only recourse was for them to be fed human brains, and thereupon began the daily slaughter of young innocents. But the serpents’ demands continued and on Azi-Dahaka’s shoulders they menacingly remained.

Two of these victims were the sons of the blacksmith Kaveh. Outraged by his misfortune and continuation of killings to appease the twin serpents, he fastened his leathern apron to a spear — still remembered as his victory banner or drafsh-i kavyan! — and marched forth to demand of Thraitaona to head a loyal army and unseat the murderous alien ruler. 

The high-minded Athwyan firstly sought divine help for this noble enterprise. To his assistance came Ardvi Sura Anahita, Drvaspa and the fravashis of the ancestors. Our Aban, Gaush, and Fravardin Yashts allude to his divine helpers. The Vandidad’s geographical first chapter suggests the location of his war of liberation. 

Together the insurgents stormed Azi-Dahaka’s citadel to remove that monster from the Iranian throne. They succeeded; Azi-Dahaka was felled by Thraitaona’s bull-head mace, dethroned and led off in captivity to a cave on Mount Damavand where he was bound for all eternity. They say that earthquakes are the result of Azi-Dahaka’s superhuman struggles to free himself and wreak havoc yet again.

Furthermore, Thraitaona had liberated his two beautiful wives, Savan-havach and Erenavach (Shahnavaz and Arnavaz to you and I) abducted by the ghoulish Azi-Dahaka and held captive in his citadel. Dahaka’s castle is pointed out to this very day. But we are jumping the gun, rather. Neither Dahaka’s overthrow and capture, nor the freeing of these two beauties would have been accomplished without the intervention and aid of the spiritual beings. Nor must we omit mention of the Airyama Ishyo prayer (Yasna 54.1) as the most-healing and best of manthras. Loosely rendered as "spell,” this powerful short prayer is an affirmation of Ahura Mazda’s might and sovereignty. It is a convocation prayer for Zoroastrian men and women, good and true.

The art of healing, mastered by Thraitaona, is presented as three-fold: by knife, plant and the sacred word, whose piously uttered and universally rendered recital is the best for mankind. The Ardibehesht and Aban Yashts extol it, and the Vandidad’s 20th chapter explains it in full connection with Thraitaona.

In closing, two items are brought to your eager attention. These are, firstly, that the association of medicine with the serpent is all too familiar from the ancient Greeks who regarded it as representative of a deity, of eternity and of wisdom. As semi-divine master of medicine, Asklepios’ symbol is a wand with two entwined serpents; similarly his daughter Hygeia, of the self-explanatory name, has a serpent drinking from a cup held out by her! All quite abhorrent to Zoroastrianism which is averse to reptilian forms and symbols.

The second is the Denkard III.157 summary of the six methods of healing: through treatments in accordance with Mazdaean teachings; by cautery; by herbal cures; by lancet (surgery); by acupuncture; and, most efficacious of all, by the sacred formulas/manthras.

And so, with the benefaction of Ardvi Sura Anahita, Aban, Ardvisur Banu; of Drvaspa, the horse-doctor; of Thraitaona a.k.a. Shah Faridun; and not least of the chastened vifra Paurva, we wish health and prosperity to all our indulgent readers (and their livestock).

Farrokh Vajifdar was former vice president of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland. An author and editor, he is an independent researcher into Ancient Indo-Iranian culture, history and religions.