TWENTY-SEVEN
Krishna laughed happily. He said, "How simply you illumine the most profound mysteries, Muni! Now tell us about the different natures of the yugas."
Markandeya said, "The krita is the immaculate age, when there is no trace of evil on earth. Eternal dharma is four-footed in the krita yuga, but only three-footed in the treta, because evil enters the world during the second age. Dharma stands on just two feet in the dwapara and in the kali yuga, princes, dharma barely survives, hobbling on just one foot.
In the pristine krita yuga, dhyana is said to be the highest virtue, gyana in the treta yuga, yagna in the dwapara and bhakti in the kali of vice and darkness.
Brahma is the Lord of the krita, Surya of the treta, Vishnu of the dwapara and Rudra of the kali. Brahma, Vishnu and Surya are all worshipped in the kali yuga; and Siva, who bears the Pinaka, in all the four yugas.
In the krita yuga, every creature is perfectly contented. They live at peace with themselves and in harmony with the divine Brahman. Their livelihood arises in spontaneity, from their pleasure in it. In the krita, there is no distinction between the best and worst of men; they are all equally gifted, in wisdom, in longevity and in beauty. They are free from sorrow and given to seeking solitude. They are tapasvins and their goal is Mahadeva Siva. They live without selfishness of any kind and are full of natural joy, welling endlessly in their hearts. They have no permanent homes, but live either beside the ocean or upon mountains.
In the krita yuga, also, children are born from sexual intercourse. But the ecstasy of lovemaking is much more profound and prolonged than it is in the lesser ages."
Krishna sighed, "Ah, indeed. But then, the men and women of those times were more like Gods, weren't they, Muni? They lived for thousands of years, if I remember what my mother Yasodha told me."
Markandeya went on, "At the end of the krita yuga, the natural font of joy in the hearts of the people of the earth dried up; but another blessing arose, as if in its place. When the eternal wellsprings ran dry in the hearts of men, those waters appeared materially in the sky, as clouds: sacral rain fell upon the world, life-giving and full of bliss.
When that precious deluge covered the surface of the earth, lustrous trees sprang up. These trees were called homes, O Pandavas and they were the ancestors of our trees of today. The people of the world got their food from the trees, as they did anything else they wished for; and they, too, were as happy as the men and women of the krita yuga. The trees were full of visions, which moved the spirits of those who sat near them to rapture.
But then, evil came to the earth. It came first into men's hearts, where there was a void left by the cessation of the waters of joy, which were sukshma, subtle, spiritual: of God.
When the evil seed sprouted in the hearts of the men of the treta yuga, they grew passionate and greedy. And the wishing trees, which they had called their homes, vanished from the world. The men and women of the earth were repentant and returned to the path of dharma. They still craved all that the trees had given them, but they knew their greed had made the trees disappear.
Once more, the trees called homes reappeared across the earth and now they gave the people clothing, fruit and ornaments. Cavities in the trees were full of divine honey, which no bees or birds fed on. The men of the earth lived on that ambrosial honey and were content. Joy returned to them, for many years; but the evil, which had sprung once in their hearts, did not die. After a while, the people of the treta yuga turned to greed and violence again. For the first time, they seized the wishing trees for themselves, making possessions of them and attacking one another to own them.
The trees vanished again from the world, as suddenly as they had first appeared. Bitter days fell on the people of the treta yuga. The elements turned against them in wrath; savage extremes of heat and cold beset them. Burning rains fell on them and they built shelters for themselves against the fury of nature. Many perished for their crimes in those days of retribution and the people of the earth turned back to meditation: to seek their souls in dhyana, so some peace may return to the world.
The rains turned mild over the earth again. They flowed down mountains and valleys as the first rivers, flowing always into the ocean. Now, the first herbs of the earth sprouted from the alchemy between the new rain and the soil. As if to answer the prayers of the people, fourteen great trees reappeared in the world, with flowers and fruit.
A brief time of peace came to the earth. But evil had taken root in men's hearts and it diminished the people of the treta yuga, as the age wore on inexorably to fulfil its destiny. Avarice and passion rose again and men seized field and tree, village and shelter for themselves. They seized their brothers' women. The lust for possessions overcame them and perhaps it was because they were afraid of losing all these again.
The life-giving herbs disappeared back into the ground. Desolation stalked the world again. It was then, at the command of the manes, that Prithu milked the earth. Again, violence swept the land, as rapacity mastered the dwindled men of the treta yuga. It was in those fateful days that Brahma created the kshatriyas to rule the earth, to curtail the anarchy that had seized her and to bring peace to the brahmanas. It was in the treta yuga that the classes of men were ordained and each varna was given his own dharma by God, by which they could aspire to nirvana.
Those times are inscrutable, for great wonders and various blessings were still upon the earth. After the first agonies of transformation, men lived in harmony again, with themselves and all the mysterious and divine forces in the world. Thus the treta yuga wore on and then the dwapara yuga dawned.
The evil in men's hearts took many forms by now, some subtle and some openly sinister. The dwapara was an age of conflict and men doubted the very nature of truth. While the Veda had been single and sacred in the treta, in the dwapara it was divided in four by the son of Parasara and the river-girl. Anxiety arose among men, suspicion and an abhorrence for life itself. They could no longer distinguish between truth and illusion. For the first time, disease swept the world as monstrous plagues. Drought came to the earth and terrible suffering, because of which men began to think about liberation from birth and death, to think of moksha. They thought of the futility of life, the emptiness of desire; they meditated upon their own deepest natures.
Rajas and tamas arose to dominate half the dwapara yuga, in war, doubt and strange knowledge born from brutal conflict. Man's very mind divided against him. He became a power and a law unto himself, divorced from the natural world. He sought to control his suffering and was alienated from the natural earth. Yet, all these dark tendencies were tempered, curbed by the profound virtue that men had inherited from the krita yuga and the treta, as well.
But in the kali, the age of wrath and darkness, the earth becomes a realm of night and the sattva guna is all but lost in dominating sinfulness. It is in the spiritual apostasies of the brahmanas that the evil of kali yuga is rooted; for, the holy ones are corrupted in that age and forgetting dharma, they turn to unthinkable sins. Why, in the kali yuga, the twice-born themselves are ignorant of the Veda."
Markandeya sighed as if he could hardly bear the thought. The Pandavas shuddered at the mention of the kali, the fell yuga that lay in wait around the corner of time. Krishna, alone, was as serene as ever. He said with a laugh, "But the kali is the age into which every spirit of all the other ages prays to be born. For it is the easiest age in which to have moksha." Softly he said, "They say that in the kali yuga a man need not perform any great deed or sacrifice; he need not even be pure. Let him but take the name of God and he shall be liberated. Is this true, O Markandeya?"
There were fathomless mysteries beneath the surface of his words. Did his tone gently mock the rishi? Was there so much the sage had left out of what he said, which, indeed, he did not begin to suspect? Great truths that dark Krishna knew. Other worlds stirred in the heart of the earth: unknown, unknowable, legendary dimensions, all of them uncannily part of Krishna's mystery. The Pandavas saw their cousin transformed. It was not a physical change; but for that instant, he seemed to encompass the very universe within himself.
The moment passed. Krishna smiled at them. He looked at Markandeya, who seemed to have turned to stone in the Avatara's mystic moment. The Blue One said, "Muni, you have not answered my question about the kali yuga. Is it true, what they say, that it is the simplest age for a man to attain moksha in? Is it enough for a man to chant the name of God in the evil yuga, for him to find nirvana?"
And now, here was another mystery: Krishna was full of earnest inquiry; he was an anxious seeker. Truly, as if he sought liberation for himself, or as if he could liberate all mankind, if he only found moksha first; as if all Time was just Krishna's quest for his own freedom. Markandeya and the Pandavas sat absorbed in the Dark One's mystery. Somehow, they had never thought of him as a seeker. They realized now, especially the Pandavas, that they had never thought of him as having any needs of his own.
Krishna flashed his smile again, breaking the trance. He urged Markandeya, once more, "Tell us, Muni, about the kali yuga. Forgive my foolish interruptions; I only wondered about moksha and how it was to be had most easily."
Markandeya said in a low voice, "Krishna, there is nothing on heaven or earth that you do not know. But it is, indeed, as you say: the kali is the simplest age in which a man may find moksha and he can find it by just saying the name of God. Yet, the reason for this is not simple. For a man suffers horribly merely by being born into the age of wrath.
He suffers undreamt-of terror, constantly, from within himself and from the world, as well. He lives shrouded in evil; every breath he draws is in fear. In the kali yuga, the kings who sit upon the thrones of the earth will have neither tranquillity nor dharma. They will be men mainly of tamas, full of rage, vanity and lust, full of lies. They will find their pleasure in inflicting torment and death on their subjects, even women and children. And they rise to power just briefly and then fall away. The kings of the kali will be short-lived, greedy and rapacious.
The people will be contaminated by the customs of others. Kings will employ wild barbarians and murderers and these will have their say in the violent affairs of state. And with the people living in perversion, far from dharma, ruin will come to all the land.
Wealth alone will confer nobility, regardless of a man's birth or his character; power alone will define virtue. Pleasure will be the only reason for marriage, seductiveness the quintessence of womanhood. In disputes of justice, the ability to distort the truth will determine who prevails. Just wearing a thread will determine who is a brahmana; for the twice-born will lose their dharma and be steeped in sin themselves. They will not have dhyana, gyana, yagna or bhakti, in the age of night.
All the world will be plunged in a turbid darkness of the spirit and the earth will be full of deceit and passion, greed and wrath. The precious waters of the soil will dry up at the fearsome ways of men. A man's worth will be decided not by his truthfulness, by his wisdom or goodness, but only by the wealth he has amassed, by even the vilest means.
Arrogance and sin will pass for wisdom and righteousness, brashness and a loud voice for scholarship. Only the poor will have any honesty or virtue left and the powerful will make life so miserable for them, that they, too, will become corrupt. Feebleness will be the only reason for not being employed. Just a bath in water will come to signify purification and charity will be the only surviving virtue.
Unimaginable evil will engulf the sons of men. Abduction will be equal to marriage and wearing costly clothes and ornaments to dharma. The very affectation of being great will pass for greatness and boastfulness for heroism.
Men of power, men of great faults within themselves and kings with the hearts of monsters, will rule the earth. Oppressed beyond endurance by their rulers, the good people of the world will flee the macabre cities of kings to hide in secret valleys between mountains, where they will turn to nature for succor, living off wild honey, roots and fruit, birds and flowers. Violence and perversions will rot the cities and all the land. Terrible wars and demonic diseases will decimate the human race and savage cold and scathing heat, scorching droughts and sweeping floods will terrorize the people of the kali yuga. Until, the earth will be a hell in creation, where souls are born for no pleasure at all, but only searing expiation."
Yudhishtira said quietly, "Already, there are omens of what is to come."
"It is not far from us," said Markandeya. "Why, it is prophesied that with your war against the sons of Dhritarashtra, the kali yuga will begin." He paused and said in a low voice, "And it will truly set in when Krishna leaves the world."
Krishna murmured thoughtfully, "Yes, it will be rare for men to even say the name of God in the age of evil."
"And so they will indeed find moksha, if they do, with a devout heart," put in the rishi.
Bheema said, "I pray I will not see much of that wretched time! But tell us, O Markandeya, does the world itself end with the kali yuga?"
"At the end of the kali yuga, when the earth has been ravaged and laid waste by men's sins, a drought arises that lasts for a hundred years, with not a day's rain. Every creature in the world will perish, all the species. And Siva comes as Rudra for the dissolution.
In an awesome form, he comes. He enters the seven rays of the sun as transcendent fire and subsumes the myriad waters of the earth, draining them into himself. Oceans and rivers he absorbs, lakes, mountain-springs and streams; he dries up the darkling waters of patala. Then, those seven rays he has entered become seven separate suns blazing in the sky. They set alight the three worlds as cotton balls dipped in ghee. Mountains, sea-beds, green valleys, islands, the continents, are all ignited and burn like dry grass in that firestorm.
When Rudra has consumed the worlds, he stands upon the cosmic ether and from his chasmal mouth banks of clouds issue, greater than galaxies: clouds like vast elephant herds in fathomless space, thunder-roaring clouds, gashed with immense lightning to blind the terrified Devas in heaven.
Some clouds are dark like the twilight lotus, which bloomed once in jungle-hearts; some are yellow, others amber. Some have the color and texture of chrysoberyl, others of sparkling sapphire and yet others are like red lacquer. Some clouds have the shapes of sea-conches, some of jasmine flowers of crystal in the sky; these are white as goose-feathers, but streaked with lightning black as collyrium.
But others are menacing, themselves dark as night; still others are bright as blue jays' wings and peacock-feathers. Swiftly, there are towns of clouds in the sky, mountain ranges of them; there are unimaginable palaces in the firmament and the strangest faces, some calm, some demented, staring with eyes of fire, latticed with veins of lightning.
The cloudbanks roar to deafen even the Devas' dimensions, which are not material. Then they open in the sky and a sheet-rain falls over the inferno that rages upon the three worlds below. In a day and a night, the rain has extinguished the conflagration of God, which consumed his creation. At the end of each kali yuga, the destruction stops with this deluge; but at the end of a kalpa, a thousand cycles of yugas, the pralaya does not stop.
It rains on, endlessly, torrents pouring down by night and day in the unnatural light; until, the worlds dissolve in those tidal waters and the seven suns are extinguished in the sky. The loftiest world, Bhuvarloka on high, is flooded and a watery night falls over all of creation. Still those rains do not stop; they pour on for a hundred years without pause.
At last, the precious waters have swollen into the realm of the Sapta rishi and the ocean covers everything. It is upon this infinite sea that a pipal leaf floats, my princes and the Lord of the kalpa, the Blue Infant who sucks on his toe, lies on that singular, resplendent leaf. From his mouth, issue great winds to blow away the clouds of the pralaya. For a hundred years, these winds blow before the clouds are all scattered.
Then, Hari is Narayana, lying upon his eternal serpent-bed, Anantasayanam, as both Vishnu and Brahma who lies in the golden lotus that sprouts from Vishnu's navel. Both sleep for as long as Brahma's night lasts, out on that ocean of hardly a ripple. At the end of a thousand chaturyugas, Brahma stirs again. Once more, he pours forth Creation."
Krishna fetched a contented sigh when Markandeya finished. He breathed, "Ah, good Rishi, you are indeed a wonderful pauranika. Why, I would even say you are my mother Yasodha's equal!"
Sahadeva said, "Tell us more, Muni. Your Purana enchants us."
"Yes, do," Krishna said. "How I love these old stories." His tone was fathomless.
They stayed up almost until dawn, while the rishi Markandeya told them a score of tales of the oldest times. About all the yugas he told them, of Dundhumara, of Kuvalaswa and of the rishi Angirasa. About Agni, Markandeya told them and the Fire God's love for Svaha. Of the first war in heaven, he spoke: when Soma the Moon abducted Brihaspati's wife, Tara and the Devas and the Asuras fought. He described other wars also, vividly, the churning of the sea for amrita and the Incarnations of the Lord Vishnu.
He told them about the Asura Taraka and the strange boon he had from Brahma: that only a son born to ascetic Siva, the Mahayogin, could kill him. He described the birth of Parvati, who was once Sati, who killed herself; how she grew in her father Himavan's palace; how Siva came to a nearby tapovana and was deceived by Kama into love. How Siva made Kama ashes. Of the wedding of Siva and Parvati, Markandeya told and the birth of Karttikeya, child of wonder, in the bank of sara grasses; and how that child slew Tarakasura on a fateful seashore.
That was on the first night. Finally, Markandeya yawned. "I think we should stop for tonight. Let us resume tomorrow, when the story-teller and his listeners are fresh."
So they turned in, their minds alight with visions. Such dreams they dreamt that night, the Pandava princes, dreams they would remember nothing of, except that they were splendorous.