His conscience somewhat assuaged, he shut out his feelings and started concentrating on the task at hand. Perhaps it was time to return home, to the arms of his family. He had not met anyone from his past after Menaka had come into his life but he felt the urge to be with them now.
He had taken well over three years to get to the western edge of Aryavarta but thanks to his yogic powers, he could travel to any place on Earth now with the speed of thought.
He had never needed to use the siddhis before but now he would utilize them to hasten the achievement of his goal.
He turned to take a last look at the ashram that had been his home for more than a decade and sighed deeply.
It was time for Vishwarath to disappear completely and Vishwamitra to take centre stage.
VISHWAMITRA
Adhyaye 31
Vishwamitra’s decision to move to the Himalayas was vetoed by the two people he loved the most so he set up base on the banks of River Kaushiki at a secluded spot not too far from the city of Ayodhya. The fertile Gangetic plain with its dense forests, fragrant mango orchards and lush sugar cane fields was perfect for his purpose. The decision to camp here was a conscious one, for Yamdagni had informed him that Vasishth had been appointed the chief priest of the kingdom of Kosal—of which Ayodhya was the capital—by the Suryavanshi king Satyavrat.
Vishwamitra’s proximity to his nemesis strengthened his determination. He did not waste too much time setting up an elaborate ashram and straightaway got to work. Even when with Menaka, he had not completely abandoned his yogic pursuits, hence it wasn’t too difficult for him to fall into a routine again.
As he had done a decade ago at the banks of River Mahi, he began the process by controlling his breathing and the practice of complicated yogic asanas. This was followed by gradual progression into advanced stages of meditation and complete non-distraction. His sensory acuity and cognitive function improved and he moved towards development of full mental potential. Days turned to months and months to years but he did not move a muscle and one by one he gave up eating, drinking and sleeping. He was so engrossed in the inner world that his consciousness did not register what was happening outside. His ashram was overrun by creepers and, slowly but steadily, the forest reclaimed what had been taken from it. The banyan tree under which he sat meditating spread its canopy for a mile around, its aerial prop roots giving rise to new trees, gradually converting the entire area into a pillared shelter that protected him from the elements.
Vishwamitra had been stationary for so long that the forest animals now considered him a part of the landscape. His hair grew long and matted and once again a dense beard clouded his handsome face. Without any external nutrition or physical exercise, his muscular frame gradually started losing mass. His cheeks became hollow and the wide torso shrunk so that a passer-by could have easily counted his ribs. Not that he was visible to any chance visitor, for his gaunt frame was by now completely camouflaged by his surroundings. Ants had built an architectural wonder around him and gradually his entire body was covered in mud and clay.
Oblivious to the creatures surrounding him, Vishwamitra dived into the subconscious recesses of his mind and absorbed new siddhis from the mystical energy that coursed throughout the universe. One by one, he attained mastery of the five remaining major siddhis: Tri-kāl-gyātvam, knowledge of the past, present and the future; Advandvam, tolerating extremes of temperature; Par-chitt abhigyān, the ability to read someone’s mind; Pratistambhah, the power to modify the five elements; and the last and most important, Aparājyah or invincibility.
He was now immune to all trappings of the material world. No one could defeat him in a battle involving mystical powers and he already had control over physical ones since the yagnya he had organized all those years ago. Indra and his entourage would be hard-pressed to better him in case the situation arose.
After obtaining the major powers, he turned his attention towards the secondary siddhis that gave him control over hunger, thirst and cravings of the flesh, thereby making him immune to a repeat of the Menaka incident in future. He then attained enhanced visual and auditory capabilities so that he could see and hear from great distances.
His next acquisition gave him the ability to enter another person’s body, while another made him a shape-shifter so that he could turn into any being—animal, bird, plant, Deva, Asur or Manav—he wanted. Yet another siddhi gave him the facility to communicate with the resident of any loka through telepathy. The last one, he realized, would come in really handy when he challenged the king of Devas himself.
After years of staying motionless and absorbing all these powers into his body, he finally turned his consciousness outwards and chanted a spell to dissolve the layers of mud covering his body, destroying the thousands of insects and their home instantly. He did not have time to think about anyone but his goal right now and any creature that came in his way would just be collateral damage.
He was now stronger than any human had been in the past and probably would ever be in the future. Finally, it seemed the universe was smiling on him and he would be able to fulfil his desire of defeating that arrogant son of Brahma.
The only wish he had now was an opportunity to humble his adversaries.
Adhyaye 32
The universe was indeed smiling upon Vishwamitra for, unknown to him, the fates had been conspiring to provide him the chance he was craving.
Through the long years that he had been lost in the infinite depths of Brahman power, time had moved on for the sovereign of Kosal, who had decided to withdraw from worldly affairs. The king considered himself too old to look after the kingdom and stepped down from the throne, anointing his son Harishchandra as his successor.
Satyavrat had been a just and devout ruler but now the idleness of his retirement was making him a little eccentric. He knew his Karma had been good and would quite possibly lead him to Swarg after he died, but his mind had somehow got stuck to the notion that he deserved to ascend to heaven in his own mortal body.
No one could shake him out of this fascination, for in his mind his logic was as sound as any logic could ever hope to be. This body was what had allowed him to accomplish all the good Karma in this life so how could he leave it behind in death?
To achieve his ambition, he had decided to take help of his designated preceptor, Brahmarishi Vasishth. The learned sage, who looked every bit the same as he had decades ago, gazed upon the king whose face was lined with wrinkles and whose thinning hair had turned completely white. The left eye was developing a cataract and the right knee had developed arthritis, yet he wished to take this body to the next realm because of his attachment to it.
He tried to explain to the king the transient nature of this world and said, ‘Just as you or I change clothes when they get dirty, the soul changes its covering once it grows old and moves on to a brand-new body. What use do you have of such a body in the other world when it can’t even sustain you properly in this one?’
Satyavrat tried to explain to the Brahmarishi the reason for his strange wish. ‘Gurudev, I do not wish to take this body with me because of my attachment to it but for the sake of loyalty. The only way I could secure prosperity for my kingdom and my subjects was through this now-ailing body. How can I leave it here now and move on to the next realm? Wouldn’t that be a kind of treachery on my part?’
The Brahmarishi addressed the king kindly, ‘Rajan, what you say may seem logical to a layman but a learned king like yourself should not harbour such thoughts! Your argument shows your ignorance about your true nature; you identify yourself with the outer shell rather than the pearl that you actually are.
‘Your body is made of the panch mahabhoot, the five basic elements of life, and if every person decides to take his or her body to the next world, the balance of these five elements would be affected. Besides, this is what the Srishti Karta has ordained and doing what you ask me to do would be meddling with the course of nature.’
Satyavrat felt disa
ppointed but he did not let the Brahmarishi’s refusal dishearten him and countered, ‘How can I identify with something I have never seen, my lord? I know only of this body that has served me well throughout the vicissitudes of life and I cannot fathom an existence without it in the next world!’
Rishi Vasishth shook his head in vexation and said, ‘My child, this body is but an extension of your soul! Tell me, when you refer to it as your body, who is the owner of the body that you refer to? When you call it your arm or leg, isn’t it self-contradictory since all these parts form the entire you?’
He gave the old human some time to grasp the purport of what he had said before continuing. ‘That you is the soul residing inside your body, which is but a vehicle for it to perform the functions of daily life. It is valuable here but completely redundant in the higher realms where your subtle body takes over these functions. It is futile for you to wish its continuation even after its utility is over.’
The king understood the logic of his argument but could not let go of his ambition. In this agitated state, he decided to approach the sons of Vasishth, for surely they, being of a younger generation, would understand his point of view better.
Shaktri, Vasishth’s eldest son, was now a rishi in his own right and possessed enough powers to change the flow of nature, so Satyavrat went to him with folded hands. ‘Rishivar, I have come seeking your help even as your great-souled father has turned me down. In the face of his reluctance, you are the next best alternative I have. Please do not disappoint me.’
Ever since the skirmish with Vishwamitra, Shaktri had detested kings. Satyavrat’s strange request and his attempt to bypass Vasishth filled him with indignation. He looked at the old Kshatriya contemptuously and said with barely concealed anger, ‘You dim-witted king, how dare you come to me when your own mentor has denounced you? If my father has declared it impossible, how can you ask me to conduct such a phantasmal ritual for you? Such a thought shouldn’t even be entertained and a procedure to accomplish what you desire should never be performed!’
The king looked miserable and at some level Shaktri pitied him. How easy it was for these people, living in the lap of luxury, to get attached to the material objects around them, and desire to take them to the next world! He had heard of a kingdom in the west whose kings were busy building elaborate tombs for themselves, storing all their treasures inside as if they could carry them to Yamlok to bribe Yamraj into allowing them to enter Swarg! What a terrible waste it was since all that hoarded wealth could have been utilized for the welfare of their subjects. Some kings had even given orders to mummify their dead bodies to preserve them for the next world and this king in front of him seemed to be even one step ahead of them.
He shuddered at the level of the king’s ignorance and said in a softer tone, ‘Rajan, forget this childish whim and spend your last days in the worship of God. That is the only way you can attain heaven for the gross material bodies cannot survive in the ethereal realm of Swarglok. It is only our astral bodies that can adjust to the physical conditions of that world and you have no option but to leave this decaying form here itself.’
Satyavrat’s confidence was shattered as he heard these words. When he had embarked on his journey, he had been hopeful of swaying the mind of his Brahmarishi Vasishth or at least his son because they were the only two people who had the spiritual power to perform such a feat in his knowledge.
Completely dejected, he said, ‘I am so unfortunate that my last wish was rejected by both my kulguru as well as you, and I have now been reduced to the state of such opprobrium. However, I shall not rest till I have exhausted all my resources and will hunt for someone even better than you two!’
On hearing that, Shaktri became infuriated and cursed the old king, ‘O muddle-brained Kshatriya, you think of your own desires so much and ignore the guidance of your mentors, hence you shall attain the state that you really deserve!
‘You focus on fulfilling a meaningless craving, hence instead of the sacred fire of yagnya, you deserve to tend to the fire of a burning pyre. Instead of performing Vedic rituals you shall now live a life performing funeral rites for dead people. For this affront, I curse you to become a Chandal and be known as Trishanku for the three sins you have committed against your kingdom and your kulguru.’
Satyavrat fell at the feet of the sage who seemed to have lost all control over his anger. Tears fell from his eyes and he asked, sobbing, ‘What sin have I committed, my lord, in asking for the fulfilment of a logical wish? Do I really deserve to be cursed thus?’
His argument made Shaktri angrier and he spluttered in rage. ‘Do not forget the follies of your youth, my king! You may have lived a blemish-free life in recent times but how can you forget the grave injustices of your boyhood?’
Satyavrat stopped in the middle of saying something. His mind went back to the time when he had been appointed the king-in-waiting of Ayodhya. Drunk with the power his new position brought, he had abducted a Brahmin girl right from the wedding altar and fled with her. His father Tryaruni had banished him for a period of ten years for this act and he had spent those living a life of debauchery with his friends in the neighbouring kingdom.
He recalled another time when, overcome with hunger, he had killed the cow of a Brahmin and gorged on the meat of the holy animal that had supported the Brahmin’s entire family. And now, he had gone against his mentor’s advice, completing the three sins that Shaktri was now damning him for.
He did not have any heart to argue with the sage any more and Shaktri saw the dejection in his body language. He addressed the king for the last time and warned, ‘If you do not desist from your foolish pursuit, you will spend all your remaining life trapped in a limbo from which you will never ever be able to escape.’
Adhyaye 33
Following the curse, Satyavrat’s noble and kindly face turned ugly and dark. His rich clothes transformed into the rags worn by a Chandal and his silky white hair was replaced by shaggy dreadlocks. The fragrant garland around his neck turned into a funeral wreath and his body, now deformed, was smeared with crematory ash.
When he saw the changes that had come over him he howled in agony and limped from Shaktri’s hermitage, shouting to the heavens. He knew he had done some unforgivable things in the past but he had more than made up for them throughout his kingship and did not deserve this grave injustice meted out to him. Reaching the market square, he wailed to his citizens but no help was forthcoming since no one recognized his altered form. He kept insisting that he was their former king, the one who had provided them all these riches, but they in turn just laughed at him, thinking he was a mad man caught in delusions of grandeur. A passing vaidya diagnosed his condition as mental psychosis and tried to take him to the hospital but he snarled at him in frustration and pushed him away.
If these people did not recognize him how would he ever gain entry into his own palace? The soldiers at the gates would definitely not let him pass and he would have to suffer more humiliation if his children also failed to identify him. Just this morning he had had everything—the comfort of his palace, the love of his family and the gratitude of his subjects—but it had all changed in just two prahers.
Struggling with his new deformities, he walked out of his kingdom and hobbled towards the jungle, hoping that a wild animal would kill him and put an end to his misery. He kept blaming the gods of fate for his condition, knowing not that destiny was leading him to the only man who would become the means of his salvation.
Fumbling through thorns and brambles, Satyavrat chanced upon the hermitage of Vishwamitra at the precise moment the rishi rose from his long penance.
As Vishwamitra opened his eyes and looked around, gradually adjusting to the sights, sounds and smells of the physical world, his gaze directly fell upon the madman who stood glaring at him as if he had seen a ghost. Rising from his samadhi for the first time in years, Vishwamitra divined the events that had transformed this king into an outcast and beckoned to him in sympath
y.
Satyavrat’s mind was still in turmoil and he did not know whether the apparition in front of him was a figment of his imagination or an actual person. Gradually his vision cleared and he realized the gaunt sage was gesturing to him to come closer.
He limped towards the spectre, knowing that there was no harm in doing so for he had nothing more to lose. To his surprise, as he neared the tall, regal-looking sadhu, he felt his pain disappearing and colour returning to his original form. Gone were the arthritis and his battle scars. Even his eyesight seemed improved! When he looked down at himself, he saw that his rags had changed back into regal finery.
He rubbed his now fully functional eyes to make sure this was not a trick his mind was playing on him and fell at the sage’s feet in gratitude. Not only had Shaktri’s curse been reversed, but his health had also been restored by this wonderful man.
Vishwamitra patted the king’s head and asked him to get up, ‘Utishth, Satyavrat,’ he said, ‘I have overturned the spell put on you and released you from its effects.’
The king was amazed that this man knew what had happened with him and asked, ‘You know who I am, my lord?’
Vishwamitra nodded and said, ‘I know the entire sequence of events that has led you to me, O king. And yes, I know the egotistical rishi putra who put the curse on you as well.’
Satyavrat felt hope rising in his heart; this man not only knew of his predicament but also did not think too highly of the Brahmarishi’s son. Maybe he was the one who would help him fulfil his desire.
Vishwamitra Page 15