53.
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?”
Bhishma said, “Acting scrupulously
in line with ritual and moral precepts
is always right, and leads to happiness.
But happiness is not the highest goal,
and a person who seeks it for itself,
gripped by craving, will find themselves in hell
tortured by suffering, a burning sense
of separation from the eternal One.
Only by true indifference to results
can action lead to liberation—union
with the divine, the inexpressible,
the being with no attributes, neither
male, female, nor neuter, neither existent
nor non-existent, beyond categories.
It is akin to the dark side of the moon—
we know it exists, though we are unable
to perceive it with our mortal senses.
“The path of understanding is austere.
It is the apprehension of the soul
by the soul itself. Devoted study
leads to great learning, but learning alone
will not reveal Brahman. Just as we may wait
for the moon to emerge from its shroud of mist
to light us on our way, so, patiently,
we wait for the One to manifest itself.
Only then can we come to experience
our own being as part of the divine.
“For this, we should detach ourselves from sorrow
and from every sensual impression.
We should not yearn for what is transitory
as a child runs here and there after a toy.
We should not say, ‘Why me?’ at our misfortunes,
but see that sorrow knocks at every door.
Cultivating true understanding,
we move beyond sensory experience,
beyond distinctions, beyond attributes,
even beyond language, into the radiance
of a clearer, more far-sighted vision.
In this way, our soul becomes prepared
to recognize that it has always been
continuous with the eternal Self.
The clouds disperse. We see. Only illusion
has kept our true nature hidden from us.
Those who are obsessed by earthly things
will never understand reality.”
“Grandfather, please tell me more of Vishnu,
the uncreated Creator of all that is.”
“Vishnu is the highest of all beings,”
said Bhishma. “He created the elements
and the earth, and then he laid himself
floating on the surface of the waters.
He made consciousness, which infuses
all created things. And as he lay
on the waters, a most beautiful lotus
grew from his navel and gave birth to Brahma.
From the surrounding darkness, there then sprang
Madhu, a demon, bent on killing Brahma.
Brahma called on Vishnu to protect him
and instantly, Vishnu destroyed the demon;
that is why he is called Madhusudana,
‘Slayer of Madhu,’ among his many names.
“Vishnu then created day and night,
the seasons, and all temperaments of weather.
In Brahma’s line, sons were born, and daughters,
and from them came animals and demons
and gods, to populate the three worlds.
Next he created the four human orders.
From his mouth, he created brahmins;
from his arms, kshatriyas; from his thighs,
he made vaishyas; and, lastly, from his feet
he brought lowly shudras into being.
He appointed gods to be responsible
for diverse aspects of the heavens and earth
and to guard the cardinal directions.
He made Brahma lord of created beings.
He appointed Yama ruler of the dead;
Kubera was lord of treasures; Varuna,
lord of the waters and of aquatic creatures.
“At first, there was no fear of death—people
lived as long as they chose. There was no sex.
Children were conceived by touch alone.
Only in a later age did people
feel the need to marry and live in pairs.
And only later, too, did warfare start.”
“Tell me how Lord Vishnu saved the world
the first time, by taking animal form.”
“This is how it was told to me,” said Bhishma,
“in the hermitage of Markandeya:
“MANY YEARS AGO, the earth was overrun by demons. They had become very powerful and arrogant and, rather than being content with their earthly riches, they cast their eyes up to heaven, and were envious of the prosperity of the gods.
“The other inhabitants of the earth, minor deities and their offspring, were oppressed and grief-stricken, and came to Brahma in great distress. He reassured them. ‘The fate of those wretches has already been decided. They do not know that the invincible Vishnu has assumed the form of a boar, and is out to destroy them for their pride and wickedness.’ The petitioners were overjoyed.
“As Brahma had said, Vishnu, in the form of Varaha, burst into the place under the ground where the demons had congregated. Astonished, the foolish demons tried to fight the animal, seizing it and trying to drag it down. But however hard they tried, and whatever weapons they used, the boar remained unharmed. At this they became afraid. Then the boar started to give voice to roars so loud and terrifying that they resounded over the entire earth and through the heavens as well. The demons fell to the ground, unconscious, and the boar pierced them with its hooves, tearing the fat and flesh from their bones.
“At the tremendous sound, the gods ran to Brahma in confusion. He told them the world had been put to rights again by the great Vishnu—Creator, all-destroying Time, Ordainer, Upholder of the world. And he told them that, from time to time, when the earth was oppressed, Vishnu would incarnate himself, in order that balance and order could be restored. And so it happens that, in our day, he has taken birth as Krishna, for the good of all humanity.”
This account was so wonderful, the listeners
were moved to tears, and gave heartfelt thanks
that they were living at this historic moment
when Vishnu walked among them on the earth.
The story was familiar but, somehow,
in the telling, it became news again.
“What are the faults a person should avoid,”
asked Yudhishthira, “if they hope for freedom?”
“Avoid those qualities that are born of passion
and darkness,” warned the patriarch, “such as greed,
lust, anger, cruelty, procrastination,
laziness and self-indulgence. The person
whose soul is purified by austerity
will see these tendencies for what they are.
But those caught in illusion will meet sorrow.
“From the very moment we inhabit
a body, in the womb, sorrow begins.
We all have to be born from a woman’s womb,
defiled by blood, phlegm, urine and excreta
which give rise to evil tendencies.
Women are primal substance; men are souls.
Wise men should keep well away from women;
they are the eternal embodiment
of the senses, and give rise to trouble.
Leading the fascinated mind to follow
as a child chases a dazzling butterfly,
they draw a man from his spiritual path.
A student at the start of life, practicing
celibacy, should avoid all contact,
even the most mundane, with any woman.
If semen spurts out of him as he dreams,
he should immerse himself up to the chin
in water, and remain there for three days.
If this fails, he should abandon sleep,
that forest of illusory delights,
and use the long hours of the night for study.
“Later, because the man desires a woman,
children arrive who undermine his quest
for wisdom. ‘These are my children,’ he will say.
But they no more belong to him than vermin
born on his body; he should shake them off
as he would fleas and mites. The man of wisdom
should avoid becoming attached to them.
He will find the practice of yoga useful
in harnessing the restless, possessive mind.”
So said Bhishma, lifelong celibate.
And if Yudhishthira gave any thought
to Draupadi, sitting among the listeners,
and wondered what she felt, we will never know.
“A clear mind is the way to liberation.
Even compassion, since it is prone to lead
to attachment, will hold a person back
by focusing attention on particulars.
One cannot know the universal soul
if worldly concerns clutter up the mind
with material issues and distinctions.”
Day after day Bhishma shared his wisdom.
There seemed to be no end to the king’s questions.
He asked how happiness could be achieved,
how fear could be avoided. What penances
were most appropriate; and whether people
really were the authors of their actions.
“On this last point,” said Bhishma, “there is a tale
of the visit Indra paid to Prahlada:
“PRAHLADA, CHIEF of demons, had fallen on hard times, defeated by the gods, his enemies. Indra came to visit him, intending to gloat over his vanquished opponent, expecting to find him crushed and humiliated. But far from being cast down, the demon was living in tranquillity, seated in an empty room, meditating, observing stringent vows, and indifferent equally to praise and blame. A clod of earth and a heap of gold were just the same to him. He wished for nothing and avoided nothing.
“‘How is it,’ asked Indra, ‘that you are apparently so unaffected by the misfortunes that have come your way? You have lost everything, and yet you seem happy and serene.’
“Prahlada smiled. ‘It is because I understand that every event, every entity, comes into existence and then ceases to exist in accordance with its own nature. No personal effort is required to bring this about; it is simply what happens. I have been defeated; in time, you will meet the same fate. Time is the agent. Most people do not see it that way. They struggle to achieve a goal and, because they regard themselves as the doer of acts, they suffer torment when their actions fail to produce the desired results. They may blame themselves for not trying hard enough, or for not having acted cleverly. But they are the person nature has made them, and they act accordingly. A person engages in activity, of course, and the soul is the silent witness. It is foolishness for a person to feel proud of their talents, or to feel ashamed of their shortcomings. Even final release arises from nature, not from human effort by itself. Understanding this, I am incapable of grieving.’
“‘How did you arrive at this understanding?’ asked Indra.
“‘I observe how nature works,’ said Prahlada, ‘how everything rises and falls. I pass my time very happily. I am obedient to my teachers and I listen to those who are old and wise. Watching the play of phenomena as they appear and disappear, I am without craving or hope, without affection or aversion, without fear or anger. I do not yearn for this world or the next.’
“Indra was profoundly impressed, and went thoughtfully back to his own domain.”
“Grandfather, is dharma meant for this world,
or the next?” asked Yudhishthira.
“It is meant for both worlds,” answered Bhishma.
“Observance of the rules of dharma leads
to happiness in this world and beyond.
Each class should follow its own dharma.
Vaishyas should labor to create wealth;
kshatriyas should fight to protect it; brahmins
should spend the wealth appropriately; and shudras
should do the work that sustains the others.
“Everyone honors dharma—including those
who do not follow it. Even the thief
who wickedly robs others will appeal
to the king to enforce the rules of dharma
when he himself is robbed of his possessions.”
“Is it possible,” asked Yudhishthira,
“for a man to attain liberation
while still living as a householder?
Can a reigning king achieve moksha?”
In reply, Bhishma told him the story
of Janaka and the yogi Sulabha:
“MANY YEARS AGO, there lived King Janaka, who claimed to have attained a state of liberation while still remaining ruler of his kingdom. He was greatly revered, and his fame spread far and wide.
“A female ascetic, Sulabha, heard the story of his achievement, and wanted to find out for herself whether it was true. Through her yogic power, she took on the disguise of a beautiful woman, and presented herself at the king’s court.
“Janaka, struck by her beauty, welcomed her and offered her lavish hospitality. ‘Who are you, and to whom do you belong?’ he asked her. As they sat, in the midst of an assembly of learned men whom Janaka had gathered around him, Sulabha opened up the topic of liberation, asking the king to tell her if he was, indeed, enlightened. She gazed into Janaka’s eyes, her yogic powers enabling her spirit to enter his, and there ensued a conversation between them, both occupying the same body.
“Janaka told Sulabha what he had learned about enlightenment. ‘My guru, Panchashikha, stayed with me for four months during the rainy season, and I was able to learn from him all I needed to know. As a result, I have reached a state of equanimity. I regard all things as having equal value. I am free of attachment—I neither love my wife nor hate my enemies. I have learned that, by following the path of knowledge, it is possible to arrive at an exalted spiritual state. It is said that a king cannot achieve liberation; for that, one should renounce all earthly ties. But I have shown the contrary.
“‘Of course, I have to wield the rod of authority and distinguish between the law-abiding and the delinquent. But mendicant renouncers, too, reward and chastise people as they see fit. And many mendicants, while showing all the outward trappings of renunciation, have by no means achieved a state of non-attachment, as I have. My circumstances are affluent, I have great wealth, but liberation does not depend on whether one is rich or poor; it depends on knowledge.
“‘Madam, I have taken a liking to you. But I have to say that I regard it as very deceitful of you to enter my body with a view to testing me. It is also contrary to dharma. You are a brahmin woman, I am a kshatriya. By entering my body you have mixed the social orders in an inappropriate manner. Perhaps you have a husband somewhere? If so, you have committed the additional sin of adultery. You are living the life of a renouncer; I am a householder. So by entering me you have committed a third sin: the mingling of differing modes of life. It may even be that we belong to the same line of descent, in which case you have committed the further sin of incest! It seems to me that you must have an evil nature—otherwise, you would not be roaming around the country by yourself. And you would not be attempting to prove yourself the superior of a man. I suspect you wish to show your superiority to my whole court, and humiliate these learned men. But now that I have assured you that I have achieved liberation, you should tell me who you are, what is your background, and what is your purpose in coming here.’
“Sulabha replied, ‘Being made of ever-shifting particles, the human being changes constantly, as the liberated person knows. By asking me who I am, and whose, you show that you are still mired in the illusion of distinct identity, seeing the world in terms of dualities. If you were truly liberated, you would see that there is no difference between me and others, or between me and you. The self is neither male nor female. If you were truly liberated, I could not have wronged you by entering your body with my mind.
“‘You speak of “having” great wealth. A liberated person does not speak of “me” and “mine.” Of course, a king must worry about wealth, and must defend his kingdom. He has to live in a world of dualities. That is why he cannot attain enlightenment so long as he remains a king.
“‘As for your gross accusations—I have not touched you with any part of my body. How, then, could I be guilty of mixing social orders? My soul, which has entered you, is the same as your soul. What have I done, then? You have insulted me by uttering your crude accusations in front of the whole court. In fact, I am a kshatriya like you, a descendant of a royal sage. No suitable husband could be found for me, so I have devoted myself to the study of liberation, and am firm and steady in my vows. I came here in a spirit of inquiry. Tonight, I shall stay inside you, as if you were my chamber—an empty chamber, since I find that it is devoid of understanding. Tomorrow, I shall leave your court.’
“King Janaka was silent, lost for a suitable reply.”
“Which deity above all other gods
should one worship to obtain release?”
asked Yudhishthira. “The Lord Narayana,”
Bhishma replied. “Listen to this story:
“ONCE, IN the Krita age, the seer Narada was addressing the divine seer Narayana, who was engaged in performing austerities. ‘Since you are yourself the uncreated creator,’ said Narada, ‘whom do you worship as divine?’ Narayana replied that he worshiped the indestructible origin of all, the universal Self which infuses all beings.
“Then Narada, desiring to see the highest lord with his own eyes, traveled to the White Island, where those devoted to Lord Narayana, the supreme being, live in an exalted state, beyond the senses, motionless, pale and spectral as the moon. Narada performed extended acts of devotion, knowing that only those people may see Lord Narayana who have been devoted to him with their whole being, for a great length of time. He had practiced the most severe austerities, but not everyone who had done so, and who had traveled to the White Island hoping to see the lord, was blessed with that supreme vision.
“Narada sang a great hymn of praise to the god—that being without attributes who is the essence of all virtuous qualities—recounting his many forms and legendary deeds. Lord Narayana appeared before him, in indescribable bodily form, having something of fire about him, and something crystalline, something of gold, and something of the deepest lapis lazuli. He was enormous, with a thousand arms, and utterly beautiful. The god offered Narada a boon. ‘O Lord, to have seen you with my own eyes is the greatest possible boon!’ exclaimed Narada.
“Then he made his way back to the hermitage of the divine seers, Nara and Narayana. ‘And have you seen the highest lord, the universal Self?’ asked Narayana. ‘I have,’ replied Narada, ‘and when I look at you and Nara, I see him still.’ Then Narada remained at the hermitage for a thousand years, worshiping the supreme lord with all his heart and soul.
“Yudhishthira, you should remember this—
only those who are free of greed and passion,
only those who are devoted to him
with their entire being, will see the Lord.
In him are contained all other gods,
the Vedas, sacrifices, austerities . . .
To worship the highest lord, and him alone,
to be granted the unspeakable joy
of seeing him in his unearthly form
is all that is required for liberation.
From age to age, the Lord becomes incarnate
to protect his creation. Many tales
are told of his wonderful interventions
but, in the end, all the tales are one.
What I have told you is the essence of them
and, listening, your soul is purified.”
Then the patriarch, in a fading voice,
yet ecstatic in his love for Krishna,
extolled his many marvelous attributes,
intoning his thousand names—a poem of praise,
a sublime hymn that is still recited
by devotees of Vishnu to this day.
Having heard Bhishma’s inspiring words
Yudhishthira and his brothers all became
devotees of lord Narayana.
Hearing all this from Ugrashravas,
the holy men of the Naimisha Forest
were eager to know more, and the bard told them
that Janamejaya had also asked
many questions of Vaishampayana.
How was it, he had wondered, that the gods
pursue the path of action in all the worlds
rather than the path to liberation?
“We pupils asked Vyasa the same question,”
said Vaishampayana. “He explained to us
that after the gods and seers had been created,
and after they had performed sacrifices,
Brahma assigned to them their diverse duties
to sustain the worlds—some to engage
in action, others to be disengaged.
“And remember,” said Vaishampayana,
“Krishna’s great teaching to Arjuna
when he was crushed by doubt on the battlefield.
The lord himself has revealed to mortals
the path of devotion, which can be pursued
in the midst of action and engagement.
I learned this from the great Vyasa here.”
And Vaishampayana extolled Vyasa,
calling him the son of Narayana.
“Why do you call him that?” asked Janamejaya,
“when previously you have referred to him
as the island-born son of Parashara?”
Vaishampayana explained, relaying
what he had learned from Vyasa: “This creation
is only the most recent one of many,
stretching back through all eternity.
When Narayana stirred, and began to form
this world and its creatures, he created
a great seer named Apantaratamas
whose given task was to divide the Vedas
and make them known. Pleased with the seer’s work,
Narayana told him he would be reborn
as the son of the rishi Parashara,
and would beget, in the line of Bharata,
a race of mighty princes, who would quarrel
and destroy each other—this being
Narayana’s intention for the world.
“That is Vyasa, and those are his origins
—and who else but a portion of Narayana
could have composed the Mahabharata?”