Indian Idylls · 6 of 9
The Birth of Death
(FROM THE DRONA PARVA OF THE MAHÂBHÂRATA.- LINE 2022. CALCUTTA QUARTO EDITION.)
[The brave and virtuous son of .Arjuna, the young Abhimanyu, has been slain in battle, after splendid exploits, and Prince Yudhisthira is bitterly bewailing his loss. “What is Death? Whence is this Death?” he exclaims. The sage Vyâsa thus replies to him:]
I.
I will relate An ancient story for thy comfort, Prince, By Narad told to King Akampana: For that great lord had lost his only son, Which is of earthly woes hardest to bear. Tliou, too, shalt learn how Death began, and this Shall free thee from the ache of love bereaved. Hear the old story; it is sweet to hear, - Excellent, holy, purging sins away, Prolonging life because it stayeth grief, Good for the heart and soul, strengthening the will Best of auspicious scriptures. Nay, I say, To tell or hear this rede is all as if The blessed Veds were chanted; it should be Said with the morning prayer for kings to con, If they will keep their children, realms, and wealth With minds at ease.
My son, in ages past, In the far Krita Yuga, lived this King Akampana. His foes beset him sore, And slew in fight Hari, his son, a prince, God Narayen’s match for might, youthful and fair, Skilful in arms, wise, pleasant, in the war Fearless as Sákra. But they hemmed him round, Striking such blows amidst his enemies, That when he fell there lay about his corpse A bloody belt of chiefs and elephants.
Long mourned the King, his sire, by night and day Weeping, knowing no joys, uncomforted; Whom that most holy saint, great Narada, Hearing his grief, in pity visited. But when the King saw Narad entering, Uprose he from the dust, and clasped those feet, And poured his sorrows into those wise ears; Recounting all the battle, how ’twas lost, And how the Prince fell! “Ah, my brave, fair son So brake he forth, - “Oh, my most gallant boy! That wast upon our side like Indra’s self For help; like Vishnu, in thy shining mail, - Slain art thou ’midst thy foes. Ah, Bhagavan! Ah, Rishi! he is gone; my pride is dead! What is this Death? Whence cometh it? What curse Hath given it means and might and power to kill, Blasting the bloom of life? Thou, who art wise, Tell me the truth of this; I crave to know.”
Then Narad, hearing his most piteous cry, That teacher of the truth, spake tenderly The ancient tale I tell, which whoso hears Ile shall not weep though his one son be dead.
Narada said; “Listen, thou long-armed King, And grieve no more when thou hast heard. At first, Far back, in the beginning, He who rules, Almighty shining Bhrahma, made what lives To live unchanged; so was there length of days Illimitable, but not growth in days, Which comes of change; and Brahma, seeing His worlds Fixed in fair changelessness, waxed ill content, Bethinking to unmake what He had made, That good should pass to better and there went, O Monarch! from the discontent of Him Bethinking how He should destroy to save A flame, the spirit of His brooding thought, Which, filling all the regions, had consumed The heavens and earth and worlds from west to east From north to south, the heavens and earth and worlds, With all their creatures,- those which live and move, And those which live unmoving, plants and trees. So was that thought of Brahma terrible.
“But, thereupon, he of the matted locks, Hara,-whom men do also Sthánu call, King of night-wandering ghosts, Shiva the god, - Unto dread Brahma’s presence straight repaired. Awful in sunlike majesty sat He; And, seeing Hara at His feet, come there For love of living beings: ‘Son!’ He said, ‘What need hath brought thee? Let the wish be known; That which thou dost desire, it shall be wrought; For thou art Sthánu, and thy will is mine.’
“Spake Hara: ‘O Thou Light of all the worlds! Thine are the worlds, and Thou hast peopled them; And all things in their orders are by Thee, And in Thee live. Wilt Thou not save Thine own? But now they fear to perish everywhere, Slain by this fire which flameth from Thy mood; And 1, who see it, and who love them, come, Moved with compassion. Have Thou mercy, Lord!’
“Brahma replied: ‘I did not think to slay. Lo! I am favorable. Life shall live; For love, not hate, this mood did move in Me; Because the angel of the earth hath come, Constantly praying, “Father, lighten me; Make and unmake this burden sore to bear, My children, lest we multiply to harm.” Yet, having made them, how should I unmake, Seeing I gave gifts indestructible, Giving their lives? I cannot slay, yet these Must change; therefore that mood did move in Me.’
“Spake Hara: ‘O Protector of the worlds Be favorable still, be wroth no morc; Let not these lives, moving and motionless, Perish, O Bhagavan! Let there be henceforth Three states of time for children of the earth, - The past, the present, and the future - these Let them possess, Thou Lord of all! Thy mind Burneth in moving, and therewith a flame Proceeded, scorching mountains, rivers, lakes, Forests, and beasts that dwell there, and the beings, Moving and motionless, of all the earth. Ah, Bhagavan, be Thou then propitious; yield Thine ill-content which slayeth. This I crave. Also the flame, which hath proceeded forth By reason of it, draw it back, dread Lord, Into Thyself - from Thee it sprang. Thou art Master, to bless or ban. Make Thine acts bless These that are Thine, to sweep away or save These that must perish if Thou pity not. O Maker who unmakest! I am here- The messenger of ill the guardian gods Which keep Thy worlds - beseeching Thee, Supreme, Destroy not that which Thou hast wrought so fair For this, at Thy great feet I bend and plead.’
“Hearing Maliddev’s prayer,” quoth Narada, The awful Brahma gave consent, and drew Back to Himself that earth-devouring flame. Then He who maketh and unmaketh worlds Spake of the making and unmaking, -how The purpose groweth so. And when the fire Was wholly quenched, and all His spirit still, Lo! Brahma meditated; and there rose, Live from His thought, a presence feminine, Delicate, tender, splendid, with great eyes. Dark the sweet face was, dark the stately limbs But beauty blossomed red on lip and breasts, And in her ears swung ear-rings of soft gold. She, being so born, drew backward from the throne, Awe-struck to gaze upon those gods. But He Who maketh and unmaketh, spake to her, Saying: ‘Thou Death, thou Mrityu, go, destroy Those that must die. I have created thee Unto this work; bring to appointed end The moving and unmoving; kill and slay All creatures at their time. This is My will: Obey and fear not.’
“Thus commanded, Death- Fair Mrityu, with those eyes like lotuses- Spake not, but bowed her head and sobbed; her tears Fast welling; so that on dread Brahma’s hand Fell the bright tears, - for Brahma drew her close, Saying: ‘I bid thee for the good of all.’”
II.
Bur Narada went on. “Then she assuaged Her sorrow, and replied: ‘Father and Lord!’- Clasping her palms across her beauteous breast, And trembling like a tendril in the wind, - ‘Father and Lord!’ sighed Mrityu, ‘wherefore, then, Mad’st Thou me woman? How shall I fulfil This drcadful duty, this injurious task? I shall be guilty, I shall be defiled. Be gracious; let this work light not on me Why must they die? The friend, the citizen, The son, the mother, father, brother, bride, And bridegroom, - all so happy, all so fair, - Why should these be destroyed? I am afraid To kill them; I shall sadden at their tears, Grieve with their groans. Master of all! dear God Bid me not dwell with Yama, slaying men. I pray Thee rather give me leave to live In holy silences and pains and prayers. This boon I crave, great Father! grant the boon; And I, Thy child, will go to Dhenuka, Where I will dwell in sacred solitudes, Religious, worshipping Thee. But, God of gods, I shall not have the heart to take away The dear lives of the dying creatures. Save, Save me from such a sin!’
“Brahma replied: Mrityu, thou art created unto this, To make an end of all that lives. Go, child; Make them to end, each at his time; spare none: Such is My will, and never otherwise; Thou shalt be blameless doing Brahma’s will.’
“But she,” thus Narada went on, “stood there, To slay reluctant, clasping pitying palms Across her breast, and lifting eyes of ruth To Brahma’s eyes. Thereat there spread in heaven Silence a space, whilst Death, for love of men, Gazed on the face of God, and that dread face Waxed well contented - and great Brahma smiled, Looking upon His creatures, who therewith Fared well throughout the three wide worlds, because The countenance of Him was glad again.
“So passed she from the Almighty Presence, mute, This tender angel, sent to slay mankind, Refusing still to slay; and forthwith went To Dhenuka, where, countless ages through, In meditation and rapt vows she stood Fixed like a rock:[1] - all for the love of men, For sixteen padmas -[2] stood she, seeking grace, Withholding heart and soul from peace and joy; And afterward, for padmas twenty-five, Praying for men; and then through many, more She sojourned with the creatures of the field, Praying for them. Next, upon Nanda’s banks,- Nanda which flows cool, holy, crystal-pure,- Seven thousand years and one kept she firm fast And afterward went east to Kausikî, Where dews and airs of heaven were all her food Until, accomplishing the pilgrimage, By Panchaganga, and at Ganga’s wave Under the feet of sacred Himalay, And so to topmost Himalay, where gods Have offered sacrifice, she, too, a god, - Lay prostrate, praying, still as is a stone. And yet again at Naimish, Pushkara,
[1. The Sanskrit phrase signifies “standing on one leg.”
2.A padma is a thousand billion years.]
Gokarna, and Malaya - wheresoe’er The holiest places are - there sojourned she, Fasting and meditating, making vows For men to Brahma, suing Him for them.
“Whereby the Eternal Father of the worlds, Being well pleased,” quoth Narad, “called to her With kindly 1-nind, saying: ‘My Mrityu! Why dost thou exercise such heavy vows?’
“And gentle Death answered the Lord of life ‘That I may never have, O Lord! to kill Thy creatures, and that they may dwell in peace This thing I ever wish, this boon I crave. Master and Father! I did fear the guilt Of slaying, and I feared to disobey; Therefore I make these penances, Supreme Comfort me, who am Thine, and terrified; Forgive me, for I would be innocent; Have pity, Lord of lords! on me and these.’
“Then He that knows what was, is, and will be, Made mild reply: ‘Blood-guilty art thou not, O Mrityu! if thou slayest these which live. What I have uttered, I have uttered. Vain Can never be My words. These are to die. Go, gentle spirit! therefore, slay Me these Slay all four orders of the things which live Thee shall the Eternal Virtue purify; Thee shall the mighty ones who guard My worlds Succor and aid. Yama shall help thee; plagues, Pestilence, death, shall be thy ministers; And I, the Almighty God, before all gods, Give thee this sign, that, being free from sin, Thou shalt be called “Passionless” Nirajis, She that doth slay for love, and, slaying, saves.’
“So once again, commanded past reply, Mrityu her meek palms folded o’er her breast, And bowed her brow, and answered: ‘If, dread Lord! This must be done, and I must be the means, Upon my head be put Thy dread behest Yet let it be Thy will I strike them not: Let their sins slay them, and die so with them. Avarice, ambitions, envies, calumnies, Wars, wraths, hates, conquests, follies, passions, plots Of mutual mischiefs, - let those work Thy word, And bring to end the beings suffering them.’
“‘Thus it shall be,’ spake Brahma. ‘Go, fair child! Fulfil My purpose, make death enter so; Thou shalt be blameless now and evermore. See! the bright tears that fell upon My hand From forth thine eyes I turn to woes of flesh, Which shall consume them, -aches, diseases, griefs, Born of thy sorrow these will smite; but, born Of thy compassion, these shall heal with peace When the day cometh that each one must die. Fear not! thou shalt be innocent; thou art The solace, as the terror, of all flesh, Righteous and rightful, doing Brahma’s will. Therefore fare forth and slay, making these end With pangs of passion, sting’s of wild desires, Vain sins which kill. This shall thy virtue be And thou shalt purify thee by thyself, Making the good wax and the evil wane By nature of the evil’s self, - by wrongs, By wrath, by lust, self-love, and sinfulness.’
“So, ever since that time,” quoth Naxada, Mrityu, no longer thinking to resist, Works the great will of God, and slays what lives, Taking the breath of creatures at life’s close; Not with her own kind hand; she doth not kill! By ills and pests and hurts which evil breeds- As many as those tender tears that rolled From forth her eyes -they perish; so men call Their plagues Vyâdhi, that which ‘hunts’ [1] to death,
[1. There is a play here upon the two Sanskrit words, vâdhi, “sickness,” and vyâdha, “a hunter.”]
“Wherefore, my King said Narad, “it is vain To mourn the dead. The elements divine, Which enter in at birth, come forth at death. All changes; and the gods are mortal, too. But thou lament no more thy princely son; He hath attained that excellent abode, Airy, invisible, which knows not time, Nor chance, nor any change. Weep not for him! He sits with kings and heroes who are passed Into the everlasting, happy home, Where no wars are, nor wounds, and good men dwell.
“King! this is death! this is that Mrityu! Thus, when the hour is come, the creatures end, Obeying the vast purposes of Him Who maketh and unmaketh. Mrityu takes Their breath. She slays not; of themselves they die The gentle spirit with the staff in hand [1]
[1. The Sanskrit epithet is Dandapani.]
Strikes none, but pities all. Therefore the wise, Knowing that such is Brahma’s will and good, Never lament their dead; grieve thou no more.”
AND when the holy Narada made end (Vyâsa said), this King Akampana Shed no more tears, but spake unto the saint: “Lo! now my woe is gone, my heart is healed! O wisest of all Rishis, I have peace; I thank thee for the blessing of such lore I clasp thy feet.” Therewith Narada went To Nandana, leaving him comforted. Son of the Pandavas, be patient, too! Thy Prince, thy gallant Abhimanyu, Fell like a lord of men, and hath his meed In Swarga with the blessed. Rise thou up, Quit grief, and take thy weapons, and renew The battle with thy brothers on the plain.
Whoso reads and whoso hears This fair story of old years, Well and wisely gives his pains; Since thereby his spirit gains Piety and peace and bliss; Nay, and heavenward leadeth this; And, on earth, its wisdom brings Wealth and health and happy things