Contd after...'he saw a whole universe of emotions whirling into a vortex......
Maitreyi was looking at the ground meditatively. She was almost inaudible as she said, "Yajnyawalkya holds answers for everyone, but not for me."
Artabhaga was straining to hear her. He gave up the effort and preferred to hear by the tone of her voice. It was a forlorn voice which seemed to carry a load of forbearance. He felt uneasy to be witness to her constraints which would not let her break the silence. She closed her eyes to retreat completely.
She spoke with her eyes closed, "No one knows, Yajnyawalkya is the son of deserts. It's his destiny to quench the thirst of others. But no one knows that his soul has never found a shelter."
Artabhaga wanted her to go on. But he knew she would not unless she was prodded to. In order to elicit a response he said, "I don't agree. Yajnyawalkya is an inexhaustible source of knowledge for others. He would never be in need of shelter. "
As soon as he said this he knew that he was uttering half-truth. He watched for her response.
Maitreyi smiled. She did not contradict him. She had opened her eyes now. There were dreamy, hazy memories in her eyes. She said, "Do you believe in auguries?
I do. Sometimes they speak to you of things you cannot see on your own. I had seen Yajnyawalkya in my dream even before I married him. It was an arid landscape, a vast stretch of sands before I arrived at a sanctum that stood alone in the desert. Inside I saw Yajnyawalkya sitting alone. We did not speak because we had not expected to find anyone there. I recognized him as the person seen in that dream when we saw each other at the time of our marriage.'.
Atrabhaga listened with absolute stillness in his heart, ready to be content with whatever he could gather.
Maitreyi continued, "That was a forevision of our life : a sanctum in a desert, where we entered , not of our own accord, and were destined to remain : two entities who did not speak because we had a foreknowledge of each other."
Maitreyi was silent again. Artabhaga did not know how to resume the conversation for want of reinforcement. He was thinking of Maitreyi and Yajnyawalkya together for the first time in the course of his two visits to the hermitage.
The sun was stooping lower in the sky, and the banyan tree had started to cast long shadows in anticipation of evening. Sitting there on the periphery of the hermitage Artabhaga watched the shadows playing around Maitreyi.
A deep shadow moved up with the decline of the sun and rested at her feet. The sunlight was now sloping at an angle and giving a light tinge to her hair. Without looking at her directly, Artabhaga absorbed her presence : trustful like the shadows playing around her feet and guileless like the sunlight falling upon her hair!
Artabhaga thought with a little amusement: if Yajnyawalkya belonged to the deserts, she belonged to the shadows of the forests, two lives as unlike each other as the sun and the shade, and yet as inseparable as them.
He smiled unwittingly. Maitreyi looked at him in surprise.
Artabhaga said. "There was something in you that had got twisted into a knot. I want you to come clear of it. May I ask you a blunt question? "
Maitreyi eyed him quickly. She said, "Go ahead. I don't mind."
Artabhaga asked, "Have you abandoned Yajnyawalkya?"
Maitreyi awoke with his question. She remembered her own words uttered in the past when she intended to resolve Yajnyawalkya's vacillation between priesthood and home. Standing at the threshold of the sanctum of of their home, she had said, "I have come to release you!"
Little did she realize at that time that her act of releasing him could be seen as abandonment.! She realized that Yajnyawalkya had come full circle. Release beyond a certain point could mean abandonment.
Maitreyi was looking at the ground meditatively. She was almost inaudible as she said, "Yajnyawalkya holds answers for everyone, but not for me."
Artabhaga was straining to hear her. He gave up the effort and preferred to hear by the tone of her voice. It was a forlorn voice which seemed to carry a load of forbearance. He felt uneasy to be witness to her constraints which would not let her break the silence. She closed her eyes to retreat completely.
She spoke with her eyes closed, "No one knows, Yajnyawalkya is the son of deserts. It's his destiny to quench the thirst of others. But no one knows that his soul has never found a shelter."
Artabhaga wanted her to go on. But he knew she would not unless she was prodded to. In order to elicit a response he said, "I don't agree. Yajnyawalkya is an inexhaustible source of knowledge for others. He would never be in need of shelter. "
As soon as he said this he knew that he was uttering half-truth. He watched for her response.
Maitreyi smiled. She did not contradict him. She had opened her eyes now. There were dreamy, hazy memories in her eyes. She said, "Do you believe in auguries?
I do. Sometimes they speak to you of things you cannot see on your own. I had seen Yajnyawalkya in my dream even before I married him. It was an arid landscape, a vast stretch of sands before I arrived at a sanctum that stood alone in the desert. Inside I saw Yajnyawalkya sitting alone. We did not speak because we had not expected to find anyone there. I recognized him as the person seen in that dream when we saw each other at the time of our marriage.'.
Atrabhaga listened with absolute stillness in his heart, ready to be content with whatever he could gather.
Maitreyi continued, "That was a forevision of our life : a sanctum in a desert, where we entered , not of our own accord, and were destined to remain : two entities who did not speak because we had a foreknowledge of each other."
Maitreyi was silent again. Artabhaga did not know how to resume the conversation for want of reinforcement. He was thinking of Maitreyi and Yajnyawalkya together for the first time in the course of his two visits to the hermitage.
The sun was stooping lower in the sky, and the banyan tree had started to cast long shadows in anticipation of evening. Sitting there on the periphery of the hermitage Artabhaga watched the shadows playing around Maitreyi.
A deep shadow moved up with the decline of the sun and rested at her feet. The sunlight was now sloping at an angle and giving a light tinge to her hair. Without looking at her directly, Artabhaga absorbed her presence : trustful like the shadows playing around her feet and guileless like the sunlight falling upon her hair!
Artabhaga thought with a little amusement: if Yajnyawalkya belonged to the deserts, she belonged to the shadows of the forests, two lives as unlike each other as the sun and the shade, and yet as inseparable as them.
He smiled unwittingly. Maitreyi looked at him in surprise.
Artabhaga said. "There was something in you that had got twisted into a knot. I want you to come clear of it. May I ask you a blunt question? "
Maitreyi eyed him quickly. She said, "Go ahead. I don't mind."
Artabhaga asked, "Have you abandoned Yajnyawalkya?"
Maitreyi awoke with his question. She remembered her own words uttered in the past when she intended to resolve Yajnyawalkya's vacillation between priesthood and home. Standing at the threshold of the sanctum of of their home, she had said, "I have come to release you!"
Little did she realize at that time that her act of releasing him could be seen as abandonment.! She realized that Yajnyawalkya had come full circle. Release beyond a certain point could mean abandonment.
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