Mahabharata

by Carole Satyamurti

  Arjuna, you must rule instead of me.

  The kingdom is yours; I wish you joy of it.”

  Arjuna was furious. “What nonsense!

  What feeble self-indulgence! Having won

  the kingdom through enormous sacrifice,

  do you think you can just walk away?

  Someone who lives on handouts ought to be

  really poor, not playing at what he’s not.

  Poverty degrades a man. Wealth is the key

  to respect for men like us. One without wealth

  cannot follow kshatriya dharma, cannot

  pay for the proper sacrificial rites.

  The seers will tell you—even the gods themselves

  achieved their power through force. And force brings wealth.

  You should perform the horse sacrifice

  for which you will need wealth—that is the way

  to make atonement after a great war.”

  “No!” said Yudhishthira, “listen to me.

  The road one treads alone is a peaceful road.

  I shall live in the woods with the animals,

  eating roots and berries, wearing rags,

  my hair piled on my head. Enduring heat

  and cold, harming no one, meditating

  on the Vedas, I shall live alone.

  “Or perhaps I shall smear myself with ashes

  and wander from place to place, living on alms,

  taking what comes, good and bad alike,

  with equanimity. I shall have no wishes,

  no possessiveness. I shall neither

  want to live nor want to die; pleasure

  and pain will be the same to me. Free

  from attachment, free also from aversion,

  I shall drift like the wind about the world

  until the dissolution of this body.”

  “King,” said Bhima, “your judgment has been addled

  by all that learning, parroting the Vedas

  mindlessly, by rote. What was the point

  of crushing the Kauravas if you were set

  on a life of idleness, turning your back

  on duty? ‘Harmlessness’! ‘Non-attachment’!

  If we had known your mind was heading that way

  we could have caved in to Duryodhana

  and lived a quiet life. But we went to war

  because it was right to regain our kingdom.

  “What you are proposing is as if

  a hungry man refuses food, or as if

  a virile man obtains a gorgeous woman

  and turns her away. We obey you, brother,

  because you’re the eldest; but if the eldest

  happens to be a eunuch, then we become

  eunuchs too, objects of ridicule.

  You maintain that you understand the Vedas

  but you have picked up false interpretations

  from witless renouncers.”

  Arjuna broke in.

  “On my travels, I was told a story

  about this very point:

  “

  A GROUP OF BRAHMINS, hardly out of school, resolved on a life of renunciation and, abandoning all family responsibilities, took to the forest to lead an ascetic life, living on scraps. Indra saw them and, taking the form of a golden bird, flew down to talk to them.

  “‘Those who eat scraps,’ he said, ‘do something that is very hard for humans. Their life is truly praiseworthy.’

  “‘That’s us!’ said the brahmins, pleased with themselves. ‘We are following the highest path.’

  “‘No, not you, you dust-smeared idiots. Real scrap-eaters are not like you at all.’

  “‘Oh,’ said the brahmins, crestfallen. ‘Teach us what is good.’

  “‘Good for brahmins is not good for all,’ said the bird. ‘And what is good for one stage in life is not good for every stage. Taking to the forest is the path for those whose social duties have been accomplished. The world depends on ritual action to maintain order. The householder is the true scrap-eater—he who eats what is left only after he has done his duty by his family, guests, the gods and his ancestors, adhering to the proper observances. His is the really difficult path.’

  “Understanding now, the young brahmins returned to their families, and followed the dharma appropriate to their station.”

  Nakula, who rarely spoke, spoke now,

  blushing a little. “Brother, the priests tell us

  that the path of ritual action is the highest.

  For kshatriyas, and specially for a king,

  that type of renunciation is the best

  which gives generously, dispensing riches,

  lawfully acquired, to the deserving.

  The kind of renunciation you propose

  involves unbalanced human attributes—

  an inappropriate want of energy.

  Merit is the fruit of righteous action,

  not the result of chasing after it.

  Having fought this grievous war, and won,

  you should use your victory to good effect,

  not run away from responsibility.

  Seeking your own spiritual advancement

  is not renunciation, but selfishness.

  Use your wealth to pay for sacrifices—

  that is the virtuous way. Renunciation

  is a state of mind, not a facile gesture.

  To live in the world, accepting its fruits

  without attachment—that is renunciation;

  not giving up and heading for the woods.”

  Sahadeva said, “Nakula is right.

  True renunciation is not a greedy

  craving for perfection of the spirit,

  however strictly one may mortify

  the flesh, and give up ordinary comfort.

  You could renounce all wealth and seat yourself

  beneath a tree with nothing but a loincloth,

  but if you think ‘This is my tree,’ well, then

  your detachment would be lost. Oh, brother,

  forgive me if I’m speaking foolishly.

  I only say these things out of love for you.”

  Yudhishthira was silent. Draupadi spoke.

  Sometimes in the past she had addressed him

  harshly, and was inclined to be disdainful,

  deeply conversant with dharma as she was.

  Now she spoke in sorrow. “Yudhishthira,

  your brothers are crying in the wilderness

  for all you care. They have suffered badly;

  you could make them happy. Don’t you remember

  what you said when we were in the forest

  undergoing every deprivation:

  ‘After we have conquered our enemies

  we shall enjoy the earth, offer sacrifices

  and give abundantly to brahmins’—your words!

  How can you disappoint your brothers now,

  when they have risked their precious lives for you?

  A eunuch gains no riches. A eunuch

  does not wield the rod of punishment.

  A kingdom whose king shrinks from exercising

  due authority can never prosper.

  Harmlessness, study, asceticism—all these

  are a brahmin’s business, not a king’s.

  A king’s duty is to protect the pious,

  punish the wicked, and stand firm in war.

  A king knows both fear and fearlessness,

  anger and patience; he knows when to give

  and when to take. You did not win this war

  through holy learning, nor through moderation,

  certainly not through cowardice. You won it

  through prowess and bravery, against a force

  stronger than yours in numbers. And you crushed them!

  The whole world honors you—yet you’re not happy.

  Don’t snatch defeat from the jaws of victory!

  “Kunti told me, when you married me,

  ‘Yudhishthira will bring you great h
appiness.’

  She was wrong—your mind is out of joint,

  and when the eldest in a group is mad

  the rest follow. If your brothers had their wits

  they would clap you in shackles, and rule the earth!

  A man who behaves like you needs medicine—

  ointments, inhalations, poultices,

  whatever it takes! Oh, Yudhishthira,

  even though I have lost my precious children—

  after our sufferings, I want to live!”

  She sat down, and Arjuna spoke again.

  He spoke about the role of punishment,

  how without it, or the threat of it,

  no one would behave as the law requires,

  horses and dogs would be ungovernable,

  children would boldly disobey their parents,

  people would grab each other’s property—

  the world would be a terrifying place.

  “Someone has to wield the rod of punishment;

  that person is the king, Yudhishthira.”

  Bhima was getting more and more impatient.

  “Yudhishthira—we try to understand you

  but you’re a mystery. How can a king

  who has studied all the learned treatises

  be as confused as any ignoramus?

  Listen to me now—I have an argument

  to convince you that you must be king.

  If it is your nature to hark back

  constantly to what is past, consider

  the time when we were nearly burned to death,

  the time when Draupadi was roughly treated,

  the years when we were homeless refugees—

  so many other times when we have suffered.

  That should remind you why we fought the war

  and make you see why we should enjoy the kingdom

  and you should rule it. Now that the war is won

  you need to turn to the battle for your mind.”

  Yudhishthira reflected. When he spoke

  it was as if he were wrestling with himself:

  “You desire the kingdom

  because you’re in the grip of evil passions—

  greed, agitation, pride, a lust for power.

  Desire feeds on itself, insatiable,

  so conquer desire.

  “Conquer desire

  by enjoying the earth that you have won;

  that is the highest good.

  “The highest good

  comes only after death, in the afterlife.

  That is not reached through riches.

  “The kingdom’s harmony, its peace and wealth

  depend on how you rule.

  “Free yourself

  from that heavy burden—renounce this world.

  “The tiger has one belly, but what he kills

  feeds many creatures that depend on him.

  “A wise man shrinks the scale of his desires;

  a king wants conquest, and is never satisfied.

  “Those who eat only leaves, drink only water,

  and consume only wind, are miserable.

  “Those who see the many as the One

  gain the freedom that comes from understanding.

  Renounce wishes, have no sense of ‘mine.’

  They who set no value on possession

  cannot lose, and will grieve for nothing.

  Janaka, looking at his royal city,

  said, ‘If Mithila were engulfed by fire

  nothing of mine would perish in the flames.’”

  “Yes,” said Arjuna, “I know the story

  of how King Janaka renounced his kingdom

  and became a beggar—thought himself a saint;

  his wife thought otherwise! Hear what she said:

  “‘

  LOOK AT YOU! Sitting there with shaven head, a grain of wheat in one hand, holding your rags together with the other. Once, you were a source of nourishment to family, guests, priests, the gods. Now you beg from them!

  “‘What about those who depended on you? What can I, your lawful wife, expect from you, now that you are selfishly pursuing your own advancement? I have no husband, and yet he walks the earth, doing nothing. Hypocrite! You say you are free of possessiveness. Would you truly be indifferent if someone stole your robe and broke your water pot? I don’t think so. As a king, you installed the ritual fires, supported holy men by the thousand. Why could you not cultivate non-attachment while living in the world? Do you have to act out this pantomime? King Janaka did good to the whole community. Janaka the beggar contributes nothing!’”

  “Arjuna, you just don’t understand,”

  said Yudhishthira. “I know the Vedas;

  I know the arguments around these issues.

  You have lived your life as a warrior

  and have not thought about the subtleties

  as I have. While I was sitting in the forest

  discussing with the seers, you were away

  on other business. But you mean well, I know,

  and I appreciate your sincerity.”

  “I still maintain that a life of action,

  of deeds that make a difference in the world,

  is better than passivity,” said Arjuna.

  “And to be effective, you need wealth,

  whether it be for ritual purposes

  or to sustain those who depend on you.

  To rule the kingdom and dispense your wealth

  with wisdom is the highest possible good.”

  “But wealth brings evil,” said Yudhishthira.

  “Men invariably want more and more.

  Craving, aversion—these are the great causes

  of suffering. They bind us to the wheel

  of endless birth and rebirth. A wise man knows,

  true freedom comes from renunciation.”

  49.

  YUDHISHTHIRA LISTENS TO THE SEERS

  At this point of impasse, the great ascetic

  Devasthana entered the discussion.

  “Arjuna is right to defend wealth,

  but one must understand its use correctly.

  You know that a man’s life should have four stages:

  first a student, then a householder,

  next a forest hermit, and finally

  a renunciant, wandering the world.

  A life is like a ladder to be climbed

  step by step, in the correct manner.

  You should not try to leap to the top rung

  before you have attained the previous three

  with due regard to the conduct right for each.

  You have won the earth, Yudhishthira,

  and won it lawfully. You should not now

  simply renounce it—that would be misguided.

  “As a king, you are a householder.

  Your task is the support of your dependents

  and providing wealth for sacrifices

  to sustain the gods. Wealth was created

  to support such ritual sacrifice,

  and by making offerings in this way

  people acquire merit. With wealth, also,

  they make donations to those who deserve them,

  especially priests—and true wisdom resides

  in judging who is worthy and who is not.

  By this means, through sacrifice and gifts,

  a man at the householder stage of life,

  living without anger, fear or greed,

  may be content. So you, Yudhishthira,

  should cast aside your grief, and do your duty

  as a king and householder, devoted

  to the protection of your subjects, free

  of negative emotions.”

  “Only listen,”

  said Arjuna, “to this excellent advice

  and shed your misery. All those we killed

  died as warriors, and are in heaven now;

  knowing this, why should you grieve for them?

  Think of Indra—he killed his wicked kinsm
en

  and is honored for it throughout the three worlds.”

  Vyasa agreed: “What if all and sundry

  took to the forest just as they felt inclined

  before they reached the proper stage in life?

  You must exercise authority

  as King Sudyumna did in ancient times.”

  “Tell me about that king,” said Yudhishthira.

  “

  TWO BRAHMIN BROTHERS, Shankha and Likhita, were living a life of abstinence, each in his own hermitage beside the lovely river Bahuda, down in Panchala country. One day, Likhita went to visit Shankha but found he was not at home. While he waited, Likhita idly picked a ripe fruit and was eating it when his brother returned.

  “‘Where did you get that fruit?’ asked Shankha angrily. ‘Who gave you permission to pick it? You have committed theft. You should denounce yourself to the king, and ask him to punish you.’

  “Likhita went to King Sudyumna, who knew him well, and told him what he had done.

  “‘If I am the agent of punishment,’ said the king, ‘I also have it in my power to pardon you—which I hereby do, knowing you to be a man of scrupulous conduct.’

  “Likhita was pleased, but he insisted on his punishment, so the king had his two hands cut off.

  “In great pain, Likhita went back to his brother. ‘Blessed one,’ he said, ‘I have borne my punishment. Now, please forgive me.’

  “‘I am not angry with you, brother,’ said Shankha. ‘You have atoned for what you did. Now go quickly to the river and pour libations to the gods and the ancestors.’

  “Likhita waded into the water and, as he tried to pour water in the prescribed manner, his two hands reappeared, whole and perfect. He was amazed.

  “Shankha said, ‘I performed this miracle with my ascetic power.’

  “‘But if you could do this,’ exclaimed Likhita, ‘why did you not purify me of my sin before?’

  “‘It was not my dharma to inflict punishment on you. That is the king’s task and, through performing it, he has gained merit, and so have his ancestors. You, too, have been purified by it.’

  “You should follow the ancient king’s example,

  Yudhishthira. Listen to Arjuna.

  Wielding the rod is right for a kshatriya;

  shaving the head is not. And, furthermore,

  you owe it to your brothers and Draupadi,

  after so many years of deprivation,

  that they should enjoy life as they did before.”

  “To rule can bring me only misery,”

  said Yudhishthira. “I am tormented

  by the terrible laments of those poor women

  whose main purpose in life is now denied them—

  to be loving mothers, sisters, wives.”