Chapter
28
Death, Seven Days Ahead
"O,
Emperor, our Preceptor has a son; though he is of tender
years, the splendour of his spiritual attainment is
overwhelming. He reveres his father as his God and has as
his chief aim in life, his service and the upkeep of his
renown. His name is Sringi. You came to that hermitage;
propelled by some inscrutable impulse, you placed a dead
snake round the neck of the father of this Sringi, who is
also my Preceptor. A few children saw it and they ran
towards Sringi, who was engaged in games with his
comrades, to inform him. He did not believe it at first;
he continued with his game. But, the children of the
hermitage repeated the news often and insistently; they
jeered at him for merrily playing on, when his father had
been insulted so grossly. Even his playmates laughed at
his callousness. So, he ran as fast as he could towards
his cottage, and found that their report was
true.
When he turned back, he
saw you moving off from the place and, without any sense
of discrimination about what is of lasting significance
and what is of temporary interest, urged on by frantic
passion and anger, that teenage fellow lost control over
himself ... pronounced a curse on you. This has caused
unending pain to my Preceptor." The Emperor interrupted
him and asked, "0 son of a hermit, tell me what the curse
is." The youth replied, "Lord, I find it hard to tell
you. My tongue refuses to utter it. But, yet, I have to
communicate it since my preceptor has commissioned me to
do so. The son of my Preceptor promptly took the waters
of the holy Kowsiki river in his palm, and pronounced,
"Seven days from this day, may the King be bitten by the
snake, 'Thakshaka', a terrible curse, indeed." The youth
stopped, for his grief overpowered him and he broke into
tears.
But, the Emperor only
smiled. He said, "Young hermit, is this a curse? To be
bitten by Thakshaka, and that seven days later? This is
no curse, this is a signal gift of Grace! This is a
Blessing from the lips of the son of the Preceptor.
Immersed in the affairs of the empire, I had become
slothful regarding the affairs of the spirit, and of God,
which are the goals of life. As a result, the merciful
Lord, Hari, moved the tongue of that Rishi's son to
articulate those words. He has allotted me an interval of
seven days! What a great blessing is this! It must be
Divine Will that I should spend every moment of these
seven days in the contemplation of God. From this very
second, I shall dedicate both Time and Thought, without
intermission at the Feet of the Lord. Young friend, what
more did your Preceptor command you to inform me? Tell me
soon. My heart is yearning to hear it."
The young messenger
continued, "My Preceptor felt that this curse amounted to
unpardonable treason for, you are well established in
Dharma, and you are a great devotee of the Lord. So, he
sought for long to discover some means by which the
consequences of the curse could be avoided; however, he
came to know through his yogic skill, that you are
destined to give up your life as a result of snake-bite
and destined also to reach the Seat of the Lord on death.
He felt that this was an end, which was worthwhile; and
that it was sinful to obstruct such a glorious
consummation. So, he sends you through me his blessings
that you may reach the Presence of God. I have now
finished my mission. I can leave, as soon as you permit
me."
Parikshith prostrated
before the young disciple and prayed that his reverential
gratitude may be communicated to the great saint Sameeka
and his son. At this, he left and reaching the hermitage,
he informed the hermit all that transpired at the
capital.
Death,
Seven Days Ahead
Meanwhile, the emperor
proceeded in great joy to the inner apartments and
standing before the entrance of the zenana, he
asked that his son, Janamejaya, be brought to him.
Hearing the call the son wondered why he was summoned so
suddenly and he ran towards the father. Parikshith got an
old Brahmin into his room, and placing on the son's head
his own crown lying on the cot, he walked barefoot, with
just the clothes he had on, at the moment, towards the
Ganga, entrusting the new King to the old
priest.
Within minutes, the
news spread allover the place and all through the City;
groups of men and women, brahmins and ministers hurried
behind the king and remonstrated piteously; but, it was
all in vain. They wept aloud; they fell at his feet; they
rolled along the road across his path. The king did not
notice anything; he vouchsafed no reply; he moved on,
with the Name of the Lord in his mind and the Goal of
Realisation in his thought. He was fast moving towards
the bank of the Holy Ganga. Finding that the King had
been left alone, and unattended to the River, the Royal
Elephant, the Royal Horse, the Palanquin were taken in a
line behind him, so that he may ascend any one of them as
was his wont; but, the King did not pay any attention to
the importunities. The populace were amazed to see their
ruler discard food and drink; he was engaged without a
moment's break in the recitation of the Name of the Lord.
Since no one knew the reason for this sudden resolution
to renounce, all sorts of rumours got afloat based on the
imaginative faculty of each individual.
But, some people
investigated the antecedents of the event of renunciation
and discovered that the disciple of a hermit had come
with some important news, and following that cue, it was
known that the king had only seven days more to live; the
people gathered on the bank of the river and sat sunk in
grief around the king, praying for his safety.
The tragic news spread
so fast that it reached even the forest. The ascetics and
Sadhakas, the sages and saints - they too trekked along
to the bank of Ganga, with water pots in their hands. The
whole place put on the appearance of a huge festival. The
place resounded to the chanting of the Pranava, the
recitation of Vedic hymns, and the singing in chorus of
the glory of the Lord. Some groups were roundly scolding
the son of Sameeka who was the cause of all the tragedy.
Thus, in a short time, the bank was filled with human
heads, so that not a grain of sand could be
seen.
Meanwhile, an aged
hermit who was filled with great pity and affection
towards the Emperor approached him and, shedding tears of
love, he spoke to him thus: "0 King! people say all kinds
of things; there are many versions going round from mouth
to mouth; I have come to you to find out the truth; I can
walk only with great difficulty. I love you so much that
I cannot bear to hear all that people say about you. What
exactly did happen? What is the reason for this sudden
act of sacrifice? What is the mystery behind the curse
that the son of a hermit pronounced on such a highly
evolved soul as you? Declare it! Satisfy our craving to
know the truth. I cannot look on while the people are
suffering like this; you were like a father to them. Now,
you pay no heed to their pleadings. You have given up all
attachments and come here. Speak to them at least a few
words of solace. With you, sitting silent and hungry on
the river bank, engaged in rigorous asceticism, the
queens and ministers are like fish thrown out of water.
Who was that young man, whose words caused this
disastrous storm? Can he be genuinely the son of a
hermit? Or, is that only a disguise? It is all a mystery
to me."
The King listened to
these words, spoken with such affection and equanimity.
He opened his eyes, and fell at the feet of the sage.
"Master! Mahatma! What have I to hide from you? It cannot
be hidden, even if I want to. I went into the forest
a-hunting. Many wild animals were seen but they scattered
at our approach. The small band of bow men that was with
me was also scattered in the attempt to pursue the
animals. I found myself alone on the track of game and I
was far away from my retinue. I got no game; I was
overcome with hunger and thirst; the scorching heat
exhausted me; at last, I discovered a hermitage and
entered it. I came to know later that it was the cottage
of Rishi Sameeka. I called out repeatedly to discover
whether there was anyone in. No answer came, nor did any
one come out. I saw a hermit sitting in deep meditation,
lost in his own Dhyan. While coming out from the cottage,
I felt something soft under my foot. I lifted it with my
fingers and found it was a dead serpent. As soon as my
eyes fell on it, my intelligence was poisoned; a foul
thought came into me; I placed it round the neck of that
hermit engaged in Dhyan. This was somehow recognised by
the son of that hermit; he could not bear the ignominy.
He cursed, "May this snake round the neck of my father
take the form of Thakshaka and end the life of the man
who insulted my father thus, on the seventh day from
today."
"News was sent to me
from the hermitage, of this curse and its consequence. I
am conscious of the sin I have committed; I feel that a
king capable of this sin has no place in the kingdom. So,
I have given up everything, every attachment. I have
decided to use these seven days, for the ceaseless
contemplation of the Glory of God; it is great good
fortune that this chance has been given to me. That is
why I have come here."
Thus, when the nobles,
courtiers, princes, queens, ministers, hermits and others
who were around him came to know the true facts they
dropped from their minds the wild guesses they had made
so far; they prayed aloud that the curse may lose its
sharpness.
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