A very happy new year full of peace, love and hope to all.

Path of Destiny

The Path of Destiny

When Vishvamitra set out in the direction of river Sharayu, he was accompanied by Rama and Laxman. They had left Ayodhya far behind now. When they reached the south bank of the river, it was time to rest. Vishvamitra told Rama and Laxman to drink the water of the sacred river. It was a solemn ritual. As they held the water in the cup of their hands, Vishvamitra held his hands above their heads and chanted mantras in a deep, sonorous voice. They absorbed the vibrations in reverence. After the chanting of the mantras stopped, there was a profound silence.  The brothers waited in expectancy. Vishvamitra said, “I transmitted indomitable courage, alertness and immense strength to you by means of these mantras. Their power will stay with you always, at all times and at all places. Henceforth you will never be troubled by fatigue, sickness or anxiety.  Your enemies will not be able to take you by surprise while you are asleep. You will have no adversary.  Good luck, presence of mind, intuition  and intelligence will always come to your aid. I have blessed you with those powers of the mind which give rise to all knowledge. You will conquer hunger and thirst. I have attained this state of mastery by devoting all my life to penance and austerity. Now I am endowing you with my power so that you may use it for the benefit and protection of the helpless on this earth. “

On that night, Rama and Laxman slept on a bed of grass and listened to Vishvamitra. His words carried tremendous assurance and gave them a glimpse of their mission.

The next day, they reached the place where the river Sharayu merges with the great river Ganga. The sages living on the bank of the river had grown fond of the grave sage Vishvamitra and his young disciples who had conquered their hearts by their unworldly charm. As soon as Vishvamitra mentioned to them that they were going to cross the river, the sages arranged for an elegant and comfortable rowing boat for them. As they reached midstream, they listened to a roar of two streams clashing with each other. It was like a gong of thousands of huge bells clashing together. The impact was tremendous. On reaching the middle of the stream, Rama asked, “Why is the sound of two great streams, when they meet each other, so awesome? There is a terrible beauty in it.”

Vishvamitra was looking at the waters in deep awe. He said, “The two rivers which are singing this awesome, sublime duet, are none other than the river Sharayu and the river Ganga. Sharayu springs from the heavenly lake ‘Manas’ on the crest of the mountain Himalaya. This is the river which flows by Ayodhya. She is pouring forth her waters in the stream of Ganga. The two rivers clash here. When two mighty phenomena greet each other, there is an illusion of war before we recognize it as love. All that we can do is bow down in reverence.”

The boatman circumnavigated the tumultuous merger of the two streams. They got off on the south bank of the river and walked ahead briskly. Their path cut across a thick uninhabited forest where there was no sign of human life. The eerie silence was pierced across by screech of owls and bats and they had to halt from time to time as they came across signs of wild animals crossing their path. Vishvamitra gathered the two brothers around him and told them to slow down their gait. The boys were curious to know about this land which they had never seen before.

“It was a fertile and prosperous land once upon a time,” Vishvamitra said, “until it came under the dominion of a woman called Tataka. She was still the undeclared ruler of this land. She was the only child of a Yaksha: a divine race closely connected to the devas. Once a very beautiful woman, she had now turned into a cruel ugly hag. The kingdom which had belonged to her Yaksha father was now devastated. She had married and borne a son. Her husband was a lackluster person and she would get him into trouble by her wayward conduct. Thus, by her arrogance, she offended a sage called Agastya and incurred his wrath. In the course of a long drawn out battle between Agastya and Tataka, the land suffered; Agastya’s curse put an end to the life of Tataka’s husband Sunda; her son lost his godly appearance and grew into a demon; and Tataka herself, once a beautiful woman of the godly Yaksha race, turned into an ogress. She vowed revenge upon Agastya and was bent upon making life a hell for him. The result was a perpetual state of war in which the people of this land had to pay with their life and property. She was still in command over this area which had already turned into a veritable inferno.”

Vishvamitra related the whole story to Rama and Laxman and said, “Rama, you must have understood the gravity of your mission by now. I want both of you to see the kind of world we are living in. Tataka is uncontrollable. Her greed for power and her love for her only son have made her what she is today. Insane anger, frustration and revenge have produced a devastation and terror called Tataka. She won’t change. The only way to restore peace and order is too kill her now. Vishvamitra was precise and uncompromising. Seeing Rama perplexed, he said, “Have no qualms about killing her because she has no qualms left in her. There were many instances in the past when mighty princes were called upon to kill female tyrants. You have my consent and order to kill her in a battle.”

Tataka was enraged when she learnt about the entry of Rama, Laxman and Vishvamitra into her domain. She marched angrily towards them alone because she was confident of her power. There was an exchange of missiles first between the two parties. A whirlpool of dust surrounded Tataka and her adversaries lost sight of her for a while. There was a hailstorm. But In The midst of all that turbulence Rama and Laxman slashed her hands. She was still invincible because she possessed occult powers of destruction.

Vishvamitra knew what kind of power she was using now. He said, “We must kill her before sunset because those who possess occult power are at their worst in the twilight hour.”

Rama allowed Tataka to come near and made himself appear non-resistant. As she closed in on him, he could feel her advance only by the sound because a screen of smoke covered her on all sides. He threw his missiles by the direction of the sound. Soon she emerged out of the screen and revealed her awful presence. Rama was quick and precise. His missile hit her on the heart and she fell on earth.

They spent the night in the forest which was the stronghold of Tataka until a few hours back. Vishvamitra imparted a lot more instructions to them on the art of war with rakshasas and asuras who were advanced in occult power and the art of warfare.

The next day they walked out of the forest. They could see a mountain ahead of them at the foot of which was lush-green wood’s cluster like clouds. The sight of those distant woods told them that they were well out of the bounds of the sinister domain of Tataka. 

On the way, Vishvamitra told them how, eons ago, in the age called the ‘Age of Truth’, Devas and Daityas, though belonging to the same origin, had parted ways. The Devas occupied the northern hemisphere and the Asuras and Daiyas were pushed to the southern hemisphere. They were literally poles apart in every respect. Devas were poetic by temper. They had an innate predilection towards beauty and luxury. They relished the good things of life and controlled the elements of nature. The highly spiritual of the humans were believed to have a place among the Devas after death.  

Daityas were the progeny of a divine being called Diti.  They had a demonic energy and great physical prowess but in respect of shrewdness the Devas took the laurels. The Devas and the Daityas had co-operated with each other only once. They had joined in a venture to delve deep into the oceans to investigate what was concealed there. Among the treasures which were discovered, (and Devas contrived to lay a claim on most of them) was wine, which was claimed by the Devas. As a result, the Devas came to be called Sura, that is, the beings who relish wine, and the Daityas came to be called Asura, that is, the ones who were deprived of wine. The most vicious among the Daityas came to be known as rakshasas. The uncivilized among them were man-eaters. The Devas were worshiped by humans who had to pray to them for protection against the rakshasas.

Some of the rakshasa dynasties were gifted with extraordinary accomplishments in architecture and technology and possessed knowledge of occult powers. They were envious of the humans who were ready to work hard and knew how to use the resources of nature for the well-being of their race. They were the proteges of Devas who were superior to both rakshasas and the humans by virtue of their divine astral existence Devas belonged to the bright dimensions of existence and the humans attributed to them the grandeur and ethereal beauty they could envisage in the highest state of meditation. The sages would make it the goal of their life to attain the godly state in this life itself, or if not in this life, in life after the death of the earthly body.

Rakshasas lacked calm and serenity on the whole. Envy, pride and insecurity drove them to acquire power and more power with which they would strive to subdue Devas. Rakshasas had a great capacity to withstand physical stress and some of them followed the path of rigorous penance to acquire occult power. For them, penance was a means of propitiating Shiva who was the most impartial of the deities. He gave his blessings without discrimination. Shiva is purity incarnate: withdrawn from the duality of good and evil: leaving the choice between them to the discretion of his devotees.

Vishvamitra understood the importance of power. He was not a saint. He had outgrown personal ambition and pride, but he had not given up his commitment and responsibility to his people. After all, he was a warrior king before he became a sage in retreat. Rama and Laxman had begun to understand his vision and mission by now. They understood their own role in that massive project. Cocooned in Ayodhya, they were unaware of the threats which the foresters faced because of the growing menace of the rakshasas. Their encounter with Tataka had given them a glimpse of the life in the far-flung parts of the kingdom which were almost no-man’s-land.

On their way, Vishvamitra also told them how one of their ancestors, king Sagara had initiated a sacrifice to declare his sovereignty, and how Indra, the lord of the Devas of that time, stole the sacrificial horse in order to obstruct the completion of the sacrifice. The person who held the seat of power as Indra was supposed to prevent the kings and the sages of this earth from asserting their power because then they might usurp his position. He always feared a threat to his position from the sages, kings and rakshasas, so he always set them against one another.  The result was that the kings and rakshasas were always fighting each other and Indra enjoyed his seat of power among Devas. Sages preferred to take asylum with kings rather than with Indra. Indra rallied kings and sages around him whenever it suited him, while rakshasas were always left high and dry.

However, this time, Indra had straight away challenged the sovereignty of Sagara who ordered all his sons to search the entire earth and bring back the horse. But nobody knew that the thief was none other than Indra. They all thought that it was the deed of some rakshasas.  The armies of Sagara spread in all four quarters of the earth. There was massive digging, aggression, atrocities and destruction. All the races living on earth feared extinction. The war-crazy soldiers of Sagara under the leadership of the princes reached the hermitage of an ancient sage called Kapila. Indra had left the horse there deliberately to mislead the princes. A terrible war began between Kapila and the princes in which the princes were reduced to ashes. By this time, vast terrains of this earth were devastated by digging and war. The face of the earth changed beyond recognition. The place where the princes lay in a heap of ashes had become a vast desert with not a drop of water in sight. The agrarian economy of earth faced a tremendous set back.

Sagara’s grandson Anshuman went in search of his missing uncles and the lost horse. He realized what had happened, saw the extent of the damage and came back with the horse, but without his uncles. A prophecy was made by great visionaries when he had left that he would bring the horse back and the sacrifice would be completed, and so it was. King Sagara died soon after. Anshuman came, ruled, and passed away, leaving the kingdom to his son Dileep.  After Dileep his son Bhageerath took over.  With superhuman engineering effort, he diverted the flow of the river Ganga and built seven canals, three of which started flowing in the direction of the east of Himalaya. Three more were in the direction of the west and the seventh stream was channelized by Bhageerath to flow over the dry terrains until it reached the sea. That was how the land devastated by Bhageerath’s forefathers was restored to its ecological balance, peace and prosperity.

Bhageerath’s superhuman endeavor was inspired by a greater vision than the ambition for sovereignty which had driven his ancestor Sagara to devastate the land.

Rama and Laxman were now eager to hear more stories from the ancient past. These stories belong to the age of mythology. Myths are encrypted truths and only those with subtle minds can decode their meaning. 

Vishvamitra told them another story.

“Long ago, at the beginning of time immemorial, the two mighty races of Devas and Daityas were not at war constantly as they are now,” said Vishvamitra. “Both the sisters were married to sage Kashyapa.  Devas and Daityas were equally mighty. They used to meditate a lot over the prospect of living a life without malady, aging and death. The ocean was, according to them, an untapped source of untold mysteries, one of which might unlock the secret of conquering old age and death, they thought. Together, they began to explore the depths of ocean. The experiment continued over centuries. It yielded some valuable findings. The first among those was a deadly poison. The Daityas did not know what to do. But the minds of Devas worked quickly in such crises. They appealed to the greatest of all powers in the universe: Lord Shiva. Shiva was unaffected by good and evil, joy and sorrow, desire and aversion, all alike. They also appealed to Lord Vishnu who was known to be their protector always. But somehow, they saw to it that Lord Shiva would arrive first on the scene. Lord Vishnu, who was in collusion with them ,arrived a little later. He smiled and said to Shiva, “The precedence of claim over the first finding of this experiment goes to you, since you are the greatest of all powers. Please accept this poison.” Saying thus, Vishnu disappeared. Shiva, who was always amenable to prayers, consumed it and saved the earth from the deadly pollution which experiments often lead to. The mighty experiment continued for years and mountains arose and sank in the ocean under its terrible impact. This time Lord Vishnu came to the rescue of the experimenters and raised the level of the land beneath the ocean. They called Vishnu an almighty tortoise and continued the churning of the ocean. For some years the power of Vishnu lay dormant beneath the ocean. But a time came when Lord Vishnu was himself curious and instead lying passive he decided to add his power to the efforts of the experimenters. That was a stroke of good fortune which experiments see sometimes. The experiment now began to yield good results. By now, they found out many medicinal herbs and developed a science of remedies. The person who developed it came to be known as Dhanvantari. There were many minor discoveries in the process. Then they found a wine called Sura. They thought it to be the best potable water they had known because it tasted divine. So they attributed it to the god of rains: Varuna: and called it Varuni: the daughter of Varuna. However, the leader of the Daityas became wary when he felt dizzy and lost his power of thinking upon tasting it. He was all the more suspicious because the taste was very tempting. He suspected some crooked design of the Devas behind it and told his followers to drop it forthwith. Devas relished it. They knew Daityas’ propensity for declining the good things of life and were quick to claim it for themselves. Thereafter they were nicknamed ‘Sura’, the connoisseurs of wine, and the Daityas—‘Asura’--- that is, the abstainers. But the best was yet to come

Vasishtha

Vasishtha

After his meeting with Vishvamitra, Rama saw Laxman off and strolled past the deserted cottage of the hermit. He remembered how they shared silence when the streams flooded with the rain-waters and how, all of a sudden, the hermit was gone one day without a warning.

These days, after the hermit’s departure, Rama’s mind often remained vacant like the sky. Things seemed neither real nor unreal. They seemed to exist one moment or vanished. It made no difference either way. Vishvamitra was a part of that world which wavered between reality and fantasy.

As he stepped inside Vasishtha’s cottage, he found Vasishtha in deep meditation. After a long interval of silence, Vasishtha opened his eyes. He smiled and said, “Speak Rama; I am glad that you are here.”

Rama was still seeking his answers within. The words came forth, but not in the form of a question.

“I do not want to rule this kingdom,” he said. “What do I do with a kingdom in which I have no involvement? I don’t want to rule over people with whom I cannot relate. They are going to surrender to whoever is going to be their king, because they are required to do so. Why is this complex heritage being presented to me? If you say that this world is unreal, let it remain so. It is not going to matter to anyone. You are all concerned about what Rama is going to do. Which Rama are you talking about; Rama: the prince, the son, the brother, the disciple?”

Vasishtha knew that this moment was destined to come. It was for Rama to decide when he was going to face it. He said, “When I talk about Rama, I talk about Rama. There is no other Rama than the Rama I know. I know him because I know myself. Rama knows himself because he knows Vasishtha.”

Rama asked, “And how does Vasishtha know himself?”

Vasishtha said, “Vasishtha knows himself in the same way in which he knows Rama. He knows Rama in the way in which knows the life that dwells in this earth, waters, air, light and space. You are at this moment agitated by our concern as to what Rama is going to do. I am not agitated. I know, Rama is not going to do anything. Rama is neither the cause nor the consequence of what is happening here in Ayodhya, or anywhere else in the world.”

“Why are we here then, you and me?” asked Rama. Vasishtha was silent for a while. He said, “Your heart holds the knowledge of everything. It is as vast and open as the sky. You know that this world is what you make of it---real if you view it from this side of the fence; unreal if you view it from the other side. “

Rama said, “Where do we find the truth then, on this side of the fence or there where ‘Nothing’ begins?”

Vasishtha was silent. Rama said, “Life has found its most subtle and intense vibration in you. That is why you can make your silence hold all answers. But today I want you to speak. You---the sage known by the name Vasishtha, you who are the embodiment of the highest state of ego---how are you placed in the midst of the real and the unreal?”

Rama’s question ended. There was no answer. The silence was clear and deliberate.

Rama spoke, “Your holiness, you too are speechless like me! I am often accused of withdrawing into silence! There is no question that you cannot answer. Why is this silence then?”

Vasishtha said, “You are innocent, my lad! It’s not that I lack arguments for want of anything worth saying. But silence is the only answer to your question. Be content to know at present that the world is neither real nor unreal. What is real is you and you alone. So long as you know the self in you, the question which you are asking me, holds no relevance. “

After watching Rama for a while, Vasishtha said, “Rama: the one I know, is not fragmented. He was never fragmented. Keep this in mind and go ahead. You are an ascetic born in a royal dynasty. There has to be a meaning to it. “

Rama said, “Things can happen without a reason. They just happen. It’s our vanity that makes us read a meaning into them.”

Vasishtha did not counter Rama. If Rama was determined to follow the path of asceticism, why should he or Vishvamitra not let him do so? Was the world going to lose Rama or was Rama going to lose the world? Was he or Vishvamitra not using Rama against his will? But Rama might live for the world. How and why---these questions had to be left to the discretion of time. Neither Vasishtha, nor Vishvamitra could see the verdict of time . What lay ahead was a war of civilizations and Rama had to choose to fight. Ascetics and sages: however great they may be: and there were many: Rama would be just one of them if he chose the path of asceticism. On the one hand Rama had the right to live his life as he chose to live it; on the other, was the question of preserving a world of sanctity and reason.

Vasishtha was emotionless. He knew what Rama was going to choose in spite of the present state of vacillation.  He said, “Go ahead and do what serves you best, not what suits you best. Whatever is good for you has to be good for the world. “

Rama remained silent. Then he moved forward and touched Vasishtha’s feet.

“I shall go with Vishvamitra,” he said.

Vasishtha blessed him.

Vishvamitra: Again

Vishvamitra

Vishvamitra was a man of mercurial temper. It was difficult to fathom his mind. Born in the royal dynasty of the Kushika, he had ruled as a king for many years, abdicated the throne because he wanted to acquire rare yogic powers which he did attain, but in the meanwhile, often succumbed to temptations, married, divorced, and even cursed the women he had married, for luring him away from his chosen path. His main interest was inventing weapons and missiles, acquiring them if necessary, or getting them made by using the expertise of some well-known, powerful men of rare intelligence. He did not want to waste his time in trying them out himself because he had better things to do, like thinking, researching and planning. He had sought the two young sons of Dasharatha because he knew that a young mind in a young body is never beset by doubts which cause the downfall of experienced warriors. Besides, he had tremendous faith in his own ability to guide and protect them. And his confidence was not misplaced.

Though he had sought them out initially with a purely pragmatic purpose in mind, he began to like them. They were eager to learn everything about life. They were vivacious, cheerful and refreshingly young. Especially Laxman was a daredevil, and it used to be Rama’s responsibility to curb his enthusiasm. Rama would do it quietly but firmly. Rama was not an ordinary archer. He was well-versed in the art of missiles, horse-riding and charioting. He would aim with a fierce concentration, and once discharged; his missile would hit the target without fail. But he would not spring into action without a provocation. He was all too forgiving, which was both, his strength as well as weakness. Animosity out of jealousy, envy or pride was far from his mind. Though not easily led to anger, he was quick however, in gauging the other person’s state of mind. He had the rare capacity to bring out the best in others without appearing to notice any of their shortfalls. His very proximity was enough to make people want to rise to noble heights.

Laxman was a rationalist, and as many rationalists the dreamers at once, he had realized that his elder brother Rama was a poet and a lover at heart.

Vishvamitra’s sudden arrival with a pre determined design on the two princes, had thrown their life into turmoil. Laxman could sense that it was the beginning of a radical change. Though he could not see the direction of the change as yet, he was silently entering into a state of readiness. Rama’s calm demeanor in this situation was a source of great strength to him. However, Vishvamitra was not satisfied by the outcome of his conference with Dasharatha and Vasishtha, and although Dasharatha had given over his sons to him unconditionally, Vishvamitra was not sure whether he had taken charge of ignorant kids, or whether he had acquired real warriors of true strength. Whenever he remembered their tender young faces, the warrior in him withdrew in remorse. He spent a sleepless night after the conference.

The next day, he met both of them in the quiet hours of the noon, away from the glare of the conference- hall. The two brothers stood before him, waiting for him to speak, while he studied them silently. They were as yet untouched by the impurities of life. They seemed capable of getting stirred to anger, but anger had not seeped into them deep enough to make them bitter. Rama seemed to carry sorrow inside him. Vishvamitra could feel it, though he was not curious to find its nature and origin. It looked like sorrow in its abstract form. Sorrow, which is the destiny of humanity, had found its place in Rama’s heart. Vishvamitra saw the path before Rama branching in to two directions: either asceticism or action.

Vishvamitra was at a loss. Rama seemed to deny access to everybody. It was not desirable to force him into action while he was in this state of mind. Vishvamitra’s own mission carried enormous importance, the magnitude of which was not comprehensible even to him. How could he transform an ascetic into a fighter? If this problem remained without an answer, Vishvamitra’s mission was going to be frustrated.

Suddenly, Vishvamitra had an illumination: Vasishtha! Vasishtha held the answer and Vasishtha alone could initiate the process.

Vishvamitra made up his mind. He gazed at them pensively for a moment or two, and then addressed Rama.

“Rama”, he said, “I want you to go and seek the blessings of Vasishtha before you set out on the mission. Go and talk to Vasishtha. A slightest doubt or wavering on your part can turn my endeavor into a stupendous failure.”

Rama and Laxman looked at Vishvamitra simultaneously, Rama with a quick insight, and Laxman with skepticism. Laxman wondered what was going on in the mind of this astute diplomat, while Rama felt a touch of elation at the thought of meeting Vasishtha.

Vishvamitra watched them for a while and said, “I revere Vasishtha’s wisdom. I shall wait till Vasishtha speaks his mind clearly.”

Valmiki : Again

The traveler who had brought about this metamorphosis, had uttered a mystic name ’Rama’ in his ears. The sound of it magnetized him. It acted like a light on his path and gave him strength. How and why, he did not know.

One day, he met a man who stopped to talk to him and said, “You will write. You will write the saga of a king called Rama.”

Valmiki looked at him in astonishment.

“It’s not in me even to write a line that makes sense. I have no strength left to do anything,” said he to the man.

The man simply said, “You are going to write, pages after pages, thousands and thousands of verses. Ages will go by, but your work will continue to be read by millions of generations of humanity,” said the man.

Valmiki, who considered himself lost and defeated at the hands of life, stared in disbelief.

The quiet certainty in the man’s eyes filled him with a faith he had never known before.

“I will. I will write because I believe you,” said he.

The name Rama haunted Valmiki like the name of some long-lost beloved whose face begins to glimmer in the clouds. He would retreat in solitude to think of Rama whom he had never seen. The name generated a passionate desire to see him, know him, to feel his heart and mind. Soon he began to live with the thought of Rama. The name was transformed into a thought and the thought was transformed into energy of an unknown origin.

Valmiki came to believe in the reality of it all. He was born anew in that self-created reality. His mind became devoid of every desire other than the desire for meeting Rama. He was no longer of this world.

Gradually in his hours of solitude, he began to feel the presence of a man whose heart was a silent lake of a deep sadness, and surrounding that sadness was peace and compassion. Valmiki began to live in that peace and compassion, away from the turbid life of busy men. He began to wonder if life could be any better than this solitude which was filled with the presence of Rama.

………………

Years went by. Valmiki had no knowledge of what was happening in the world of politics and civilization. Two cultures were clashing with each other. Kings and sages were under threat of extinction from the powerful races of rakshasas, daityas and asuras. Sages were massacred, people subjugated. Kings were unable to protect sages.

One day, Valmiki met the same holy man who had prophesied that Valmiki was to write the saga of king Rama. Till that day, Valmiki had not written a single word to that effect.

The holy man gave him a smile of assurance. He said, “The saga is ready. It has been enacted. It is waiting to be told. Unless you immortalize it in poetry, it will be forgotten. But I can see; its destiny is ordained now. I am an ordinary bard who narrates the facts of the lives of kings and queens. Today I will recite to you the story of the king Rama. Mind you, I will present mere facts; but you are going to transform them into a perennial epic. Valmiki listened to the story in amazement. For hours together, the holy man spoke and Valmiki listened, internalizing the story of his beloved Rama, who had indeed been crowned the king of Ayodhya after a long ordeal of unimaginable suffering.

When the holy man had uttered the last word, there was a peaceful silence. The holy man reclined in his seat and said to Valmiki, “Hereafter your mission begins. Bring this story to life and let the world know it. Valmiki fell at the feet of the holy man. A wave of sublime beauty engulfed him all around.

The holy man raised him up. “Let this knowledge not escape your understanding. Enter into it with all your soul. Reality is far deeper than facts. Enter that reality which is lying beyond facts. Go to the secret which my recitation of facts points to but does not divulge.”

Valmiki listened intently. The holy man continued, “I started off my narration from a place and a point of time. You have to take this saga beyond the limits of an epoch. Let your mind range over every possible thought and feeling experienced by humanity. Let the friend see himself in the foe. Let the rival unite with the claimant. Let everyone see his own self in the other. Let your discourse be disengaged from all that marks the will to power: the will to possess: the will to engender blame, and hence guilt in your listener. Let it be a story of infinite patience and sharing”.

The holy man got up to take leave of Valmiki.

“You have entrusted me with an impossible task. I don’t think, it’s in me to bring it to fulfillment,” said Valmiki.

The holy man said, “You don’t have to strive. A time will come when you will find a peaceful marriage of the right word with the right thought. Do not have any preoccupation right now. A tree does not fall where and when we expect it to fall. But it’s ready to fall.”

Valmiki looked at the holy man with disbelief.

“I have not received any schooling in grammar. I’ve never been in the company of scholars. You have entrusted me with an impossible task. You have very high expectations of me: a less than an ordinary man who has been spending life in the wilderness of this forest!” said Valmiki.

“Who told you that language always follows scholars? The task I see ahead of you needs a heart that is all-embracing. You are self-taught. Your penance and solitary self-reflection will raise you above all those who claim to know the secret of language.”

The holy man thought it unnecessary to answer any further questions. He took leave of Valmiki and went the way he came.

……………