Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (76 page)

“It is enemies, actual and potential,

that you should never trust,” replied Bhishma.

“Of course, you must have trust in ministers

and other staff whom you yourself have chosen

with utmost care. And you can be confident

in trusting brahmins who depend on you,

since their prosperity is linked to yours.

But trust must always be provisional.

Consider the story of the bird Pujani.

“
P
UJANI WAS
a wise and learned bird who lived in the women’s quarters of King Brahmadatta’s palace. She and the king were friends, and often conversed together. Pujani gave birth to a beautiful son and, around the same time, the queen also produced a son. The two young creatures grew up playing together.

“One day, Pujani flew to a place near the ocean where wonderful fruits were hanging from the trees. She brought back one for her son, and one for the little prince. The fruit tasted delicious and was so nourishing that it brought an instant increase of strength. When the prince ate it, he jumped from his nurse’s arms, grabbed the young bird and killed it.

“When Pujani saw her cherished son lying cold and still she was consumed by grief. She wept copious tears, and cried, ‘Kshatriyas are heartless, incapable of friendship! This king’s son has killed the one who ate and played with him, the one who should have enjoyed his protection.’ She went to the prince and put out his eyes with her talons. Then she prepared to leave the king’s court.

“King Brahmadatta tried to persuade her to stay. ‘We have injured you; you have avenged the injury. Surely now we are even, and our friendship can continue as before?’

“‘Friendship between one who has committed injury and their victim can never be repaired. We both know that in our hearts. We two could never trust one another again.’

“And Pujani flew away.”

“How does one uphold the way of dharma

when villains are a power in the world?”

“There is no simple rulebook for a king;

he must use his mental faculties

and garner his ideas and policies

from a wide variety of sources.

A king who rules with scrupulous attention

to dharmic principles is justified

in doing all that is needed to maintain

prosperity, and his hold on the kingdom.

He should be ruthless with his enemies,

smashing them when the time is right—as one

might dash a clay vessel against a rock.

He should seek out an enemy’s weak points

but hide his own, as a turtle hides its limbs.

Studying the example of the animals,

he should watch and wait like the crafty heron;

he should attack as boldly as the lion;

he should display the savagery of the wolf;

and, when he needs to, he should run away

like the rabbit. Remember, the rod of force

should always be ready at the king’s right hand.

The threat of force is a great persuader

both at home, and toward rival kingdoms.

“There are those who twist the learned teachings,

who deplore the use of force by anyone.

They are people of weak understanding,

blind to practical necessity.

Others mock morality, and declare

that dharma is no more than what people do.

They too are ignorant and self-serving.

Dharma is highly complex, and a king

should be guided by those who know it best

through many years of devoted study.

The abstruse details are not his business.

He has been created to enforce

correct behavior throughout his kingdom.”

“What is the king’s responsibility,”

asked Yudhishthira, “toward those who flee

into his kingdom—refugees escaping

persecution perhaps? Does he gain merit

by offering sanctuary?”

“He gains great merit,”

answered Bhishma. “Listen to this story:

“
T
HERE ONCE WAS
a wicked hunter, who made his living by killing beautiful wild birds and selling them for meat. No decent person would have anything to do with him, so repugnant was his occupation. One day, in his wanderings through the forest, he was caught in a violent storm which flooded the forest and left him without shelter.

“In misery, and shivering with cold, the hunter stumbled about until he came to a towering tree, and since he was far from home, he decided to take shelter for the night under its branches. Joining his hands, he addressed the tree: ‘May whatever gods live here protect me.’ Then he lay down on a pile of leaves, with a stone for a pillow, and tried to sleep.

“In that tree there lived a handsome pigeon. His wife had been gone all day and had still not returned. ‘Ah!’ he sighed, ‘some terrible harm must have come to my dear one. She is so beautiful and so loving. I cannot live without her.’ And he called out in distress.

“His wife, who was caught in one of the hunter’s snares, heard her husband crying. ‘Listen, beloved,’ she called, ‘this hunter has sought refuge with you, and we know that great sin accrues to one who refuses help to such a person. Treat him with respect, therefore, and do everything you can for him. Since your duties as a householder are completed, and our children have flown, you should serve him even at the cost of your life. If you do, you will certainly be rewarded in heaven.’

“The pigeon’s eyes filled with tears at hearing his wife’s wise words.

‘Welcome,’ he called to the hunter, ‘you have taken refuge in my house, and I wish to do what I can for you.’

“‘I am freezing to death,’ said the hunter. ‘Save me from the cold.’ The pigeon collected leaves, flew to a nearby charcoal-works for the means to kindle a fire, and soon the hunter was warmed and revived.

“‘I am very hungry,’ said the hunter. The pigeon thought hard. He had no food available that he could give the man—except himself. He walked three times around the fire and entered into the heart of it.

“When he saw this, the hunter was appalled, and consumed with shame and pity. ‘This kind bird’s death is my fault! His dutiful action has taught me a great lesson. From now on I shall follow an ascetic’s life.’ Then he set aside his snares, released all the birds he had captured, and left.

“The pigeon-wife flew up to the tree, and wailed in grief. ‘Oh, my perfect husband!’ she cried. ‘He was always kind to me. He wooed me with his sweet songs; I remember how we made love in the treetops, how we swooped through the sky together. My life is empty without him.’

“Then she flew down and entered the fire herself, and as she did so she saw her husband in heaven, garlanded, riding in a beautiful chariot, honored by all, and waiting for her to join him.

“The hunter, looking up, saw the birds in paradise and he yearned to follow them. He resolved to begin his final journey, eating nothing but the wind, wandering from place to place, free of all personal possessions. Eventually he came to a forest which was on fire. He was overjoyed, and ran to the place where the fire burned most fiercely. There, his body was consumed, and his sins with it.

“So, Yudhishthira, a person’s sins

may be expiated by devotion

and extreme austerity. But the sin

of spurning one who seeks out your protection

is dreadful, and can never be wiped clean.”

Yudhishthira derived great consolation

from Bhishma’s teachings, which appeared to him

like a draft of purest nectar.

“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