Mahabharata

by Carole Satyamurti

  “Grandfather,

  I hear brahmins talk about ‘the Real.’

  What is its nature? And how may it be known?”

  “It is the all-pervading Brahman, essence

  of everything that is, the entire cosmos.

  In every object, every living being,

  it is the atman, the true self, the soul.

  We know it in meditation, when we see

  there is no ‘me’ or ‘mine’ specifically—

  that ‘I’ am part of everything that is.

  When we hear the chanting of the Vedas

  the Real is given expression in those sounds.

  “The Real is that which every living person,

  from the most accomplished sage right down

  to the lowest sweeper, has in common.

  It is impersonal. And it is changeless.

  It manifests itself in human virtue.”

  Yudhishthira turned to the other Pandavas

  and his uncle Vidura, who had been listening,

  and asked them this: “I want you to think about

  the three great goals of life. First, there is virtue,

  law or dharma; then there is wealth, or profit;

  finally there is pleasure, love, enjoyment.

  Which of these three is the most important?

  Which of them is the key to the other two?”

  Vidura spoke first. “It is virtue

  on which the other two always depend.

  Think about it. Dharma encapsulates

  the best of which mankind is capable—

  learning, asceticism, renunciation,

  unstinting faith, sacrificial rites,

  compassion, truthfulness and self-restraint.

  These are the perfections of the spirit;

  practicing these, a person will be calm

  and all their life’s endeavors will be blessed.

  Those will include wealth. As for pleasure,

  that is the least of the three goals of life.”

  Arjuna sprang up. “This is a world

  made up of action, and wealth is at its heart.

  There are no activities that do not aim

  at profit in some way. The holy scriptures

  say that law and pleasure could not happen

  without profit; profit makes all possible.

  The wealthy man is able to follow dharma

  and to enjoy pleasure. There are some—

  mendicants, rattling their begging bowls—

  who claim to have renounced pursuit of wealth

  in favor of devotion to ‘higher’ goals.

  But the test is in their state of mind.

  Are they covetous? Are they in the grip

  of attachment? If so, they are no less

  involved in profit than a wealthy man,

  while the latter may be indifferent to wealth,

  seeing it as a means and not an end.

  But I see Nakula and Sahadeva

  wish to speak.”

  The twins spoke hurriedly:

  “Profit is the fruit of virtuous action;

  and wealth makes pursuit of pleasure possible.

  No merit: no wealth. No wealth: no pleasure.

  So the three goals are inseparable.”

  Bhima joined in. “It’s obvious that pleasure

  and love are the key to every part of life

  because they mean desire. Without desire

  why would one pursue either wealth or virtue?

  Why would one even rise up from one’s bed?

  Desire is at the heart of every action.

  It takes many forms—enjoying, for instance,

  delightful dalliance with seductive women

  gorgeously dressed, murmuring sweet endearments . . .

  If all men valued pleasure as I do

  the world would be a kinder, more peaceful place!”

  Yudhishthira smiled. “I’m glad to hear your views;

  now, this is what I think. Someone who strives

  after none of these; who can regard

  good and evil with a dispassionate eye;

  gripped neither by aversion, nor by craving,

  free from fear of death—such a person

  has gone beyond distinctions. All attention

  is fixed on liberation, perfect freedom

  beyond the endless round of death and rebirth.

  That person knows the gods direct all beings,

  that what has been ordained will surely happen.

  Even without pursuing all three goals

  one may attain moksha, absolute release,

  the final object of a virtuous life.”

  The brothers praised Yudhishthira for his speech,

  and he turned back to Bhishma, to question him

  about the way that freedom can be achieved.

  53.

  THE PATH TO ABSOLUTE FREEDOM

  Day by day, almost imperceptibly,

  the year was moving onward toward winter.

  The early mornings had a chill to them,

  the sun swung lower through the midday sky.

  Everyone around the patriarch

  knew—though no one spoke of it—that soon

  the winter solstice would arrive and, with it,

  Bhishma’s chosen time to leave the earth.

  Soon—but not yet. Still he lay serenely,

  free of pain, benevolent, alert,

  answering Yudhishthira’s every question.

  Seated round him, listening in reverence,

  were distinguished seers, gathered from far and wide.

  They seated themselves around the patriarch

  and began discussions among themselves,

  praising Bhishma in the highest terms,

  so that the old man thought himself in heaven.

  Then they made themselves invisible,

  their concealed energy lighting up the sky.

  “Grandfather,” said the eldest Pandava,

  “now that you have taught me a king’s duties

  my mind is turning to immortal matters,

  matters of the soul. How should one live

  as a person in the world? How can the soul

  obtain final release from the drear cycle

  of birth, death and rebirth? And how can one

  overcome the perennial pain of loss,

  whether of possessions, or of loved ones?”

  Bhishma replied, looking at him fondly,

  “The virtuous life has many entrances.

  To carry out your worldly obligations

  at every stage of life will bring you merit

  and is never wasted. But ultimate freedom

  is of a different order. To approach it

  a person must learn to release their grasp

  on all that’s dear to them, whether objects,

  parents, children—or a cherished idea.

  Of course, when these are lost one feels great sorrow,

  but then, with the aid of meditation,

  one should seek to let that sorrow go,

  let it float free, like a passing cloud,

  learning detachment, equanimity,

  as King Senajit did in the old story:

  “

  KING SENAJIT was burning with grief after the death of his son. A visiting brahmin found him prostrate with sorrow, and reprimanded him.

  “‘Use your intelligence. Who do you know who does not, at some time, become an object of grief for others? Include yourself in this; include me. We all return to the place we came from—there are no exceptions. Simply, this is what happens. You should not grieve about it.’

  “‘What you say is rational,’ said the king, ‘but, all the same, how does your heart not break when you know that someone who was the light of your life will never come to you again?’

  “‘My heart does not break,’ said the brahmin, ‘because I regard nothing as specially mine, not even my own self. I see the whole world as
mine, everything as equally precious. By clinging to one son in a world of sons, you bring yourself nothing but suffering, lurching between joy and sorrow. Everything that happens is influenced by destiny, and only wisdom can bring understanding of the world. Friends, wealth, victory, love, hardship—those things we think responsible for our happiness or misery—they all pass. Only wisdom endures, and only the wise person lives at their ease. Such a one fears no one and is feared by no one; they wish for nothing and avoid nothing, but are in control of their senses. That, O king, is wisdom.’

  “Hearing this, King Senajit cast aside his grief and again found purpose in his life.”

  “We humans live in very diverse ways,”

  said Yudhishthira. “How can someone

  who lacks the wealth to pay for sacrifices

  find happiness in this world, or the next?”

  “There is no need for costly sacrifice

  for one who seeks ultimate salvation.

  Sacrifice sustains the ancestors

  in the heavenly realms, and it makes easier

  one’s own passage in the afterlife.

  It can prolong one’s stay in heavenly comfort

  before one is reborn. But liberation

  from the cycle of rebirth depends, rather,

  on a person’s spiritual achievements.

  “Equanimity, not grasping after

  this result or that; truthfulness;

  absence of attachment to ‘me’ and ‘mine’—

  these are the qualities that bring happiness

  and lead to liberation. A poor person

  who travels through the world without possessions,

  taking life as it comes, envying no one—

  such a one sleeps peacefully at night

  with his arm for a pillow. But the rich

  ache with anxiety—with every breath

  they dream their wealth is being snatched from them.

  They wake, calculating how they may

  acquire still more. Wealth makes people stupid,

  muddy-minded. And consider parents

  who see their children as their property,

  clutching them close in the name of love!

  “Everything comes and goes, ceaselessly changing

  according to its nature. Time is a river

  that carries us, and all phenomena,

  ever onward. Every coherent thing

  tends inherently toward dissolution.

  How futile, then, to crave and cling. Far better

  to accept that life is sometimes hard,

  sometimes good, and welcome both equally,

  knowing that nothing lasts, riding serenely

  on the tide of change toward oblivion.”

  “In what does human greatness most reside?”

  asked Yudhishthira. “Is it in wealth

  or kin, or doing good deeds, or in wisdom?”

  “Wisdom is much the greatest attribute,”

  Bhishma replied; and he went on to tell

  the story of Indra and the rishi’s son:

  “

  KASHYAPA, THE SON of a rishi, a man of sober, pious habits, was mown down by a chariot driven by a prosperous merchant, driving dangerously, full of his own importance. Kashyapa, badly hurt, lay on the ground and cried out, ‘I’ve had enough of life! A poor man’s life is worth nothing in this world!’ And he prepared to die.

  “As he was lamenting in this way, a jackal came by who was really the god Indra in disguise. He rebuked Kashyapa. ‘All inferior beings envy the life of a human; you are a human. And, among humans, everyone envies the life of a brahmin; you are a brahmin. Your life is an achievement, and you are foolishly proposing to give it up! Actually, you are motivated by greed—if you can’t have everything your way, you want to turn up your toes. Consider this—you have hands. What wouldn’t I give for a useful pair of hands! Without them, I can’t extract this thorn from my body, or crush the biting insects that are driving me mad. With hands, there is so much you can do—build shelters, make clothes, construct a delightful bed to sleep on. Think yourself lucky that you are not a jackal or a frog. Or a worm—imagine that!

  “‘I don’t give up on life just because I have no hands. When I look around me, I consider a jackal to be rather well off. But how few creatures are content! Human beings are never satisfied with what they have. They become wealthy—and they want power. They achieve earthly power—and they want to be gods. The thirst for gain is inexhaustible. But even the most miserable pauper rarely wishes to embrace death. If you recover from your injuries, pull yourself together and lead a virtuous life. Apply yourself to studying the Vedas, pass your time cheerfully, and you will win very great happiness. In my previous life, no one gave me such good advice. I insulted the Vedas and created mayhem—that is why I have been reborn a jackal.’

  “Kashyapa was astonished at the creature’s wisdom, until the jackal dropped his disguise and revealed himself as the great Indra himself. Kashyapa rose up and worshiped him. Then he limped home, a wiser man.”

  Yudhishthira asked how gifts and penances

  have beneficial outcomes for the giver.

  Bhishma taught him the subtleties of karma.

  “All a person does throughout their life

  sticks to them as their shadow does, including

  actions they would wish to be forgotten.

  Each act is pregnant with its consequences.

  Just as a plant develops flowers and fruit

  at the proper time, without effort,

  according to its nature, so the actions

  of this life give rise to future outcomes

  in the next. A person must live out

  those consequences, whether good or bad,

  until they are spent. But when one dies

  some residue of merit and demerit

  always remains, to be carried forward

  and to determine the form of the next birth—

  unless, through extreme austerities

  and discipline, a person has achieved

  final release, and union with Brahman,

  the ultimate, eternal reality.”

  Bhishma went on to speak of many matters

  relating to the state of being human.

  “The human being is made of the elements:

  earth, space, water, fire and wind.

  Individuals combine these elements

  in different proportions. The sense of hearing

  springs from space or air; touch from wind;

  sight is the attribute of fire, energy;

  taste comes from water, and scent from the earth.

  The more specific human attributes

  are the mind, the understanding and the soul.

  “With the five senses, we perceive the world.

  Mind, confused, creates uncertainty.

  Understanding clarifies perception.

  And soul is the witness, which sees everything,

  present in every atom of the person.

  It is a fragment of the supreme Soul,

  that universal spirit which infuses

  the entire universe, all that exists.

  “Three qualities in particular pervade

  created beings, part of their inborn nature.

  In human beings everywhere are found

  complex strands of darkness, passion and goodness.

  These govern our material existence.

  Darkness includes anger, lust and hate;

  passion means love, and all forms of attachment;

  goodness embraces the higher moral sense.

  Consciousness is made up of these three.

  From goodness comes joy, from passion, misery,

  and delusion is the fruit of darkness.

  “The freedom-seeker must pursue goodness.

  One in whom goodness is dominant

  moves through the world as a swan does through water,

  never drenched or dragged down, but rather

 
; buoyant, tranquil, treating all experience

  equally. That person generates

  virtue as a spider spins its threads.

  Such a person knows true happiness.

  “The whole cosmos, threaded with desire,

  turns and turns. Its revolutions sweep

  the unwise person into its delusions,

  into its giddy and frenetic dance.

  Only one who sees with a clear eye,

  who sees how craving feeds upon itself

  and is never satisfied, will take the path

  that leads to ultimate release—moksha.”

  “Tell me about spiritual observance,”

  said Yudhishthira. “I have encountered

  silent reciters of the sacred Vedas.

  What do they attain by such a practice?

  What path are they following?”

  Bhishma told him,

  “It all depends upon their state of mind.

  First they should strictly practice all the virtues,

  subduing the senses, celibate, austere.

  They should live alone, concentrating

  on meditation and on non-attachment.

  Using their mind, they should meditate

  on mind itself, reducing their dependence

  on all things external, all things internal.

  In this way, the world of opposites—

  self and other, joy and misery—

  becomes increasingly unreal to them.

  As they silently recite the Vedas,

  they sit, meditating upon Brahman

  —Brahman the formless, the One, the infinite—

  losing all sense of distinctiveness

  until only awareness itself remains.

  “If they recite without any desire

  for favorable outcome, they attain

  the highest reward, complete liberation.

  If they retain desire for the reward

  of their pious practice, then they go

  to the realm of one god or another,

  or even to hell. There they experience

  the attributes of that particular sphere.

  Only if they relinquish all attachment

  can they go beyond, and merge with Brahman.”

  Then Yudhishthira asked to be told

  about the different spiritual routes,

  the paths of understanding, and of conduct.

  “If one’s aim is spiritual release,

  is it best to focus on observance,

  fulfilling every ritual obligation

  to the letter? Or should one, rather, follow

  an inner journey—prayer and meditation—

  toward enlightenment and final freedom?”