Yajnyawalkya's return filled the hermitage with expectancy and a groping uncertainty. A hitherto lost horizon was suddenly in sight and everyone was determined to see that the harbour would stay in place and not get washed away.
Yajnyawalkya was alive to the vibrant expectancy of his pupils. They would not let him be by himself for the fear that they may lose him again. He knew that for the time being they were least interested in any kind of an academic prologue; they simply wanted to be assured of his presence. They waited upon him anxiously, anticipating every small wish of his., and eagerly fulfilling it before he could utter a word.
Katyayani was her own self again after a lapse of more than a decade. She assumed her strident commanding tone and admonished the pupils for their excessive, exuberant, and almost suffocating attention showered on Yajnyawalkya.
On an afternoon, Yajnyawalkya decided to meet all the pupils together. They gathered and sat before him in a receptive mood. Yajnyawalkya looked around: eager faces, bated breaths, every sound suspended: the very air had assumed the role of ears!
Yajnyawalkya felt the futility of human language in an hour like this. Love enveloped him and asked, "How can you fail to remember me? Here I am to take you in: throw open your arms and meet me. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change for love; for love transcend time!"
It was youth and zest for life everywhere. Yajnyawalkya knew they were not bothered about the metaphysical meaning of Brahma. The purity of youth, in all its innocence, shone upon their faces. He could feel the presence of a subtle fragrance of an unknown origin in the air around him. Of all the joys that are offered to the life of the body by the senses, fragrance alone defies human control. You can create and control music, but not fragrance, and this fragrance encompassed everything: sight, sound, touch and all of his being. It was the fragrance of love: love, simple and pure!
Yajnyawalkya waited for someone to speak and ease the burden for him. None spoke for the fear of missing the first word from their Master who had been lost to them for long.
Yajnyawalkya spoke: "My beloved pupils, I am here for you. Ask me whatever you want to ask."
Then after a pause, one of the youngest of the lot said, "We ask you to stay with us..."
Someone prompted..."As long as you can"
Someone shouted, "No, forever!"
Then everyone joined in a chorus: "Yes, forever; we want you to be forever!"
Yajnyawalkya had returned to a different world; whether he considered it his own or found himself alienated still, nobody knew. The moment demanded that he be 'here and now'. What is meditation if not this awareness of being 'here and now'? Where is 'now'? Is it 'here', or 'there' , or everywhere'?
What was he going to tell them?
They seemed to understand more than what he could tell them. Could he tell them that the scholars and sages in Videha had sought his blood for not showing them Brahma? Could he tell them that a king chose to hand over his crown to him and preferred to call himself a pauper because his wealth was not the riches of the kingdom, but his self?
Could he tell them that their joy in here and 'now' was all that mattered to him in this moment? They were not looking to him for the great answer that had eluded all sages. They simply wanted to draw him into the joy of 'here and now'; and without realizing it, they were answering everything, every question that they had intended to ask.
Yajnyawalkya was alive to the vibrant expectancy of his pupils. They would not let him be by himself for the fear that they may lose him again. He knew that for the time being they were least interested in any kind of an academic prologue; they simply wanted to be assured of his presence. They waited upon him anxiously, anticipating every small wish of his., and eagerly fulfilling it before he could utter a word.
Katyayani was her own self again after a lapse of more than a decade. She assumed her strident commanding tone and admonished the pupils for their excessive, exuberant, and almost suffocating attention showered on Yajnyawalkya.
On an afternoon, Yajnyawalkya decided to meet all the pupils together. They gathered and sat before him in a receptive mood. Yajnyawalkya looked around: eager faces, bated breaths, every sound suspended: the very air had assumed the role of ears!
Yajnyawalkya felt the futility of human language in an hour like this. Love enveloped him and asked, "How can you fail to remember me? Here I am to take you in: throw open your arms and meet me. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change for love; for love transcend time!"
It was youth and zest for life everywhere. Yajnyawalkya knew they were not bothered about the metaphysical meaning of Brahma. The purity of youth, in all its innocence, shone upon their faces. He could feel the presence of a subtle fragrance of an unknown origin in the air around him. Of all the joys that are offered to the life of the body by the senses, fragrance alone defies human control. You can create and control music, but not fragrance, and this fragrance encompassed everything: sight, sound, touch and all of his being. It was the fragrance of love: love, simple and pure!
Yajnyawalkya waited for someone to speak and ease the burden for him. None spoke for the fear of missing the first word from their Master who had been lost to them for long.
Yajnyawalkya spoke: "My beloved pupils, I am here for you. Ask me whatever you want to ask."
Then after a pause, one of the youngest of the lot said, "We ask you to stay with us..."
Someone prompted..."As long as you can"
Someone shouted, "No, forever!"
Then everyone joined in a chorus: "Yes, forever; we want you to be forever!"
Yajnyawalkya had returned to a different world; whether he considered it his own or found himself alienated still, nobody knew. The moment demanded that he be 'here and now'. What is meditation if not this awareness of being 'here and now'? Where is 'now'? Is it 'here', or 'there' , or everywhere'?
What was he going to tell them?
They seemed to understand more than what he could tell them. Could he tell them that the scholars and sages in Videha had sought his blood for not showing them Brahma? Could he tell them that a king chose to hand over his crown to him and preferred to call himself a pauper because his wealth was not the riches of the kingdom, but his self?
Could he tell them that their joy in here and 'now' was all that mattered to him in this moment? They were not looking to him for the great answer that had eluded all sages. They simply wanted to draw him into the joy of 'here and now'; and without realizing it, they were answering everything, every question that they had intended to ask.
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