Chapter 36
Janaka got up in the morning feeling listless and sad. It was yet some time before sunrise. All was quiet. He went to the stableyard alone, and mounting his favourite horse, rode away alone into the forest that had just begun to stir in response to the light on the hills.
The lure of the forest was irresistible. Here, everything was reduced to its elemental purity and simplicity. No tormenting questions about existence, no impelling curiosity about the mystery of life! A simple benign gratitude seemed to flow like an invisible streamthrough that silence. Yet at the heart of that silence was the stillness of the eternal loneliness: the ultimate end of all our wanderings!
Janaka remembered what it meant to lose one's way in a dense forest at the time when the evening blends into night. He was a young prince then. He had wandered far from the hunting party on the trail of a panther. Before he could realize, the shadows had disappeared into dark. He had run frantically in all directions, driven by the urgency to escape before it grew darker. But every path that right at first, ended at the end of a precipice overlooking a valley. Finally he had to stop and just wait at the foot of a tree, with his horse, until dawn. The forest seemed to close in on him from all sides. At last, engulfed by its immensity, he allowed himself to be still. He had to be still, but wakeful and vigilant. He remained there till morning when everything began to stir as mysteriously as it had fallen silent.
Janaka had been a warrior all his life. But at the break of the dawn in the forest on that day, he understood why the first poetry was born out of gratitude for the gift of light.
.................
When Janaka approached the bend in the path, he realized that he had arrived at Yajnyawalkya's hermitage. Yajnyawalkya had just finished his worship of the morning sun. The atmosphere was still reverberating with the sonorous chanting of the Gayatri Mantra.
Janaka stared at Yajnyawalkya's half-clad body. His eyes rested on Yajnyawalkya's face. Beads of perspiration shone on Yajnyawalkya's brow. There was a certain undefined virility in his movement. He seemed surrounded by a bright aura of a lustrous splendour.
Yajnyawalkya feigned no surprise when he saw Janaka. He received him with a courteous smile.
Janaka looked around the cottage and then at the man who owned it with an effortless renunciation that enabled him to dwell in it with the freedom of one who could walk out of it at will.
Voices of young celibate hermits chanting hymns to the sun drifted in from the inner courtyard. Everything had the breath of celibate virility. The words of the hymn sank deep into Janaka's mind. He was amazed by the fierce concentration with which the young celibate Brahmins were creatively absorbing the lustre of the rising sun to whom they were offering obeisance.
The voices went on rising to a steady crescendo until the entire choric sound acquired the sharpness of a shining sword. Man, of flesh and blood, man, made of this earth, was donning a superhuman lustre before Janaka's eyes.
Janaka looked at Yajnyawalkya. He could not elate the images. An impasse seemed to separate him from Yajnyawalkya. He felt entrenchedin unspeakable agony. He kept looking at Yajnyawalkya as if at a stranger.
He felt engulfed by an energy of unnamed origin. Was it divine or superhuman? He did not know. He looked deeply at Yajnyawalkya, hoping to find an answer, but found himself staring into the eyes of a being that was neither divine nor superhuman.
Yajnyawalkya stirred uneasily under Janaka's gaze. For a moment or two both men endured the fencing silence that distanced them from each other, straining to hear the unspoken words. Then Janaka looked away. With an averted face, he articulated every word, as if speaking the language of someone else.
"You have been here too long, away from your people. I mustn't detain you. I came to tell you that you are free to go back if you so desire. "
Yajnyawalkya reacted in surprise. He felt he saw a wicked maneuver behind Janaka's sudden reversal, though he could not see what inspired it.
The thought of his dependency on patronage anguished him beyond measure. He stared ahead with a ferocious concentration as if he gauged the extent of the sudden inexplicable estrangement between them.
A prince and an ascetic locked in a strange bond! Borrowing from and lending to each other their inherited strength and enriching each other while the bond lasted, not realizing perhaps that something of the ascetic had way for the prince's ardor, and something in the prince had begun to respond in awe to the uncompromising, fervent quest for the meaning of life, which he saw in the ascetic!
This unpredicted moment of sudden hostility surprised both. They retreated into themselves. Overtaken by a perverse impulse to hurt, Janaka blurted out, "But there is one thing, I have wanted to ask you..."
He paused, and and both of them looked at each other with uncertainty. Janaka began with a seeming non-chalance: "What was it that led you to denounce a young man in the assembly held here some years ago? He was a young man called Shakalya, if I remember him right, a rather perverted, rebellious kind of youth who had challenged you in the course of the debate!"
Yajnyawalkya could not see the link behind Janaka's perturbed reaction. He had known Janaka long enough now to interpret his words and gestures with a fair degree of insight. But this time he remained stupefied for a moment. All he could see was that there was no premeditation behind the question. And yet the question seemed to have existed between them all along, without his ever being able to recognize it.
His mind ranged over the past in a rapid, wounded flight. Where did it start? Or did it start of its own accord? Why was he here at all? What was he doing here?
'Shakalya!' He had forgotten Shakalya, but Janaka had not. In fact Janaka could not see Yajnyawalkya without being aware of Shakalya. This thought was revolting, but at the same time it was too discincerting to be brushed aside.
Surely, that which impelled Janaka to ask this question was no perverse cynicism or a willful hostility of the moment!
Yajnyawalkya remembered the incident. He looked quizzically at Janaka. For a moment their eyes met and both confessed a sense of a sad failure.
Janaka got up listlessly and turned brusquely to face Yajnyawalkya. It was a harsh, defiant attempt to extricate himself from this unbearable moment.
"It was not what I really came here for!I mean--it was not my purpose to ask you to go back...But...
How can I make you understand? I came here in a state of agitation. I thought, probably you would help me set it right. But when I come to you with a hope, I find myself at a loss for words. I just cannot unravel myself to you. We ae cast in different moulds, you and me!"
Janaka wrung his hands in despair as he paused. Then he continued with an effort, "But my question still remains, because now, as I think about it, I realize that I understand why you denounced the man. Nevertheless, I hate you for having denounced him. I want to get id of that hatred . Because strangely, I hate myself so long as I hate you. I want to extricate myself from this tangle once and for all. But it is not easy. It was as if I was in sight of a profound truth of life, but there is something within me , some deficiency, inadequacy you may call it, which holds me back from reaching it. I thought , perhaps you could provide the answer. But it all seems so hopeless!"
He stopped and looked at Yajnyawalkya imploringly. There was nothing he could think of saying further. The silence that ensued was pregnant with many possibilities of choice for Yajnyawalkya. Janaka stood there like a man who had played a game rather badly.
Yajnyawalkya had been listening quietly but intently. The sudden and unexpected crisis between them had left him speechless. It was far easier to score a victory in a battle of wits than to act in a situation that demnded a total commitment and a tremendous effort of will.
He spoke:
"Listen O king, your question embraces more than what you and I can perceive at the moment. Why did I denounce Shakalya? Perhaps I have yet to find the answer. Perhaps that is the reason why I have been brought here without my realizing it. Words being what they are, I shall not try to say anything more than what I can now understand. Some day I may find the meaning of it all. But I fear, by then I may have no use for the language of words. I beseech you; bear with me till I reach there."
There was a tragic finality behind Yajnyawalkya's words. It was more than what Janaka could bear, ill-prepared as he was, for whatever Yajnyawalkya was wont to say or do at that moment. He moved forward impulsively and clasped Yajnyawalkya's hands.
"I shall not force my will upon you any more. I release you from the bond of servitude. But let me be assured that I exist for you, not as the king, but as a friend. Stay here as long as you wish to. In fact, I do wish that you stay with me as long as you can."
The words echoed in Yajnyawalkya's ears with a familiar ring. It was Maitryi who had spoken almost the same words with a little difference at their parting.
Janaka got up in the morning feeling listless and sad. It was yet some time before sunrise. All was quiet. He went to the stableyard alone, and mounting his favourite horse, rode away alone into the forest that had just begun to stir in response to the light on the hills.
The lure of the forest was irresistible. Here, everything was reduced to its elemental purity and simplicity. No tormenting questions about existence, no impelling curiosity about the mystery of life! A simple benign gratitude seemed to flow like an invisible streamthrough that silence. Yet at the heart of that silence was the stillness of the eternal loneliness: the ultimate end of all our wanderings!
Janaka remembered what it meant to lose one's way in a dense forest at the time when the evening blends into night. He was a young prince then. He had wandered far from the hunting party on the trail of a panther. Before he could realize, the shadows had disappeared into dark. He had run frantically in all directions, driven by the urgency to escape before it grew darker. But every path that right at first, ended at the end of a precipice overlooking a valley. Finally he had to stop and just wait at the foot of a tree, with his horse, until dawn. The forest seemed to close in on him from all sides. At last, engulfed by its immensity, he allowed himself to be still. He had to be still, but wakeful and vigilant. He remained there till morning when everything began to stir as mysteriously as it had fallen silent.
Janaka had been a warrior all his life. But at the break of the dawn in the forest on that day, he understood why the first poetry was born out of gratitude for the gift of light.
.................
When Janaka approached the bend in the path, he realized that he had arrived at Yajnyawalkya's hermitage. Yajnyawalkya had just finished his worship of the morning sun. The atmosphere was still reverberating with the sonorous chanting of the Gayatri Mantra.
Janaka stared at Yajnyawalkya's half-clad body. His eyes rested on Yajnyawalkya's face. Beads of perspiration shone on Yajnyawalkya's brow. There was a certain undefined virility in his movement. He seemed surrounded by a bright aura of a lustrous splendour.
Yajnyawalkya feigned no surprise when he saw Janaka. He received him with a courteous smile.
Janaka looked around the cottage and then at the man who owned it with an effortless renunciation that enabled him to dwell in it with the freedom of one who could walk out of it at will.
Voices of young celibate hermits chanting hymns to the sun drifted in from the inner courtyard. Everything had the breath of celibate virility. The words of the hymn sank deep into Janaka's mind. He was amazed by the fierce concentration with which the young celibate Brahmins were creatively absorbing the lustre of the rising sun to whom they were offering obeisance.
The voices went on rising to a steady crescendo until the entire choric sound acquired the sharpness of a shining sword. Man, of flesh and blood, man, made of this earth, was donning a superhuman lustre before Janaka's eyes.
Janaka looked at Yajnyawalkya. He could not elate the images. An impasse seemed to separate him from Yajnyawalkya. He felt entrenchedin unspeakable agony. He kept looking at Yajnyawalkya as if at a stranger.
He felt engulfed by an energy of unnamed origin. Was it divine or superhuman? He did not know. He looked deeply at Yajnyawalkya, hoping to find an answer, but found himself staring into the eyes of a being that was neither divine nor superhuman.
Yajnyawalkya stirred uneasily under Janaka's gaze. For a moment or two both men endured the fencing silence that distanced them from each other, straining to hear the unspoken words. Then Janaka looked away. With an averted face, he articulated every word, as if speaking the language of someone else.
"You have been here too long, away from your people. I mustn't detain you. I came to tell you that you are free to go back if you so desire. "
Yajnyawalkya reacted in surprise. He felt he saw a wicked maneuver behind Janaka's sudden reversal, though he could not see what inspired it.
The thought of his dependency on patronage anguished him beyond measure. He stared ahead with a ferocious concentration as if he gauged the extent of the sudden inexplicable estrangement between them.
A prince and an ascetic locked in a strange bond! Borrowing from and lending to each other their inherited strength and enriching each other while the bond lasted, not realizing perhaps that something of the ascetic had way for the prince's ardor, and something in the prince had begun to respond in awe to the uncompromising, fervent quest for the meaning of life, which he saw in the ascetic!
This unpredicted moment of sudden hostility surprised both. They retreated into themselves. Overtaken by a perverse impulse to hurt, Janaka blurted out, "But there is one thing, I have wanted to ask you..."
He paused, and and both of them looked at each other with uncertainty. Janaka began with a seeming non-chalance: "What was it that led you to denounce a young man in the assembly held here some years ago? He was a young man called Shakalya, if I remember him right, a rather perverted, rebellious kind of youth who had challenged you in the course of the debate!"
Yajnyawalkya could not see the link behind Janaka's perturbed reaction. He had known Janaka long enough now to interpret his words and gestures with a fair degree of insight. But this time he remained stupefied for a moment. All he could see was that there was no premeditation behind the question. And yet the question seemed to have existed between them all along, without his ever being able to recognize it.
His mind ranged over the past in a rapid, wounded flight. Where did it start? Or did it start of its own accord? Why was he here at all? What was he doing here?
'Shakalya!' He had forgotten Shakalya, but Janaka had not. In fact Janaka could not see Yajnyawalkya without being aware of Shakalya. This thought was revolting, but at the same time it was too discincerting to be brushed aside.
Surely, that which impelled Janaka to ask this question was no perverse cynicism or a willful hostility of the moment!
Yajnyawalkya remembered the incident. He looked quizzically at Janaka. For a moment their eyes met and both confessed a sense of a sad failure.
Janaka got up listlessly and turned brusquely to face Yajnyawalkya. It was a harsh, defiant attempt to extricate himself from this unbearable moment.
"It was not what I really came here for!I mean--it was not my purpose to ask you to go back...But...
How can I make you understand? I came here in a state of agitation. I thought, probably you would help me set it right. But when I come to you with a hope, I find myself at a loss for words. I just cannot unravel myself to you. We ae cast in different moulds, you and me!"
Janaka wrung his hands in despair as he paused. Then he continued with an effort, "But my question still remains, because now, as I think about it, I realize that I understand why you denounced the man. Nevertheless, I hate you for having denounced him. I want to get id of that hatred . Because strangely, I hate myself so long as I hate you. I want to extricate myself from this tangle once and for all. But it is not easy. It was as if I was in sight of a profound truth of life, but there is something within me , some deficiency, inadequacy you may call it, which holds me back from reaching it. I thought , perhaps you could provide the answer. But it all seems so hopeless!"
He stopped and looked at Yajnyawalkya imploringly. There was nothing he could think of saying further. The silence that ensued was pregnant with many possibilities of choice for Yajnyawalkya. Janaka stood there like a man who had played a game rather badly.
Yajnyawalkya had been listening quietly but intently. The sudden and unexpected crisis between them had left him speechless. It was far easier to score a victory in a battle of wits than to act in a situation that demnded a total commitment and a tremendous effort of will.
He spoke:
"Listen O king, your question embraces more than what you and I can perceive at the moment. Why did I denounce Shakalya? Perhaps I have yet to find the answer. Perhaps that is the reason why I have been brought here without my realizing it. Words being what they are, I shall not try to say anything more than what I can now understand. Some day I may find the meaning of it all. But I fear, by then I may have no use for the language of words. I beseech you; bear with me till I reach there."
There was a tragic finality behind Yajnyawalkya's words. It was more than what Janaka could bear, ill-prepared as he was, for whatever Yajnyawalkya was wont to say or do at that moment. He moved forward impulsively and clasped Yajnyawalkya's hands.
"I shall not force my will upon you any more. I release you from the bond of servitude. But let me be assured that I exist for you, not as the king, but as a friend. Stay here as long as you wish to. In fact, I do wish that you stay with me as long as you can."
The words echoed in Yajnyawalkya's ears with a familiar ring. It was Maitryi who had spoken almost the same words with a little difference at their parting.
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