Die to Live

MAHĀBHARATA: STORY OF PARAŚURĀMA, Continued

परशुराम

Bhisma continued the story of his guru, Parashurama, beginning at the beginning.

“In those days the elephants went to the Narmada river two by two to bathe and splash water with their trunks. 

After a leisurely bath in the lush green waters, they would roll in the dust and the mud, setting flight to the cranes. 

Monsoon rains kept the rice plentiful and the Narmada flooded her banks regularly twice a year. Banana trees swayed in the early morning breeze and tigers stalked their prey in the bamboo forest on the river banks. Monkeys avoided the tigers, deftly swinging through the bamboo into the mango trees, never minding that the fruits were green.

                "Green mangos make the best chutney," thought Ram. They called him Ram or son of Jamadagni, but he liked "Ram" best. The tigers had not visited his father's ashram where he lived with his mother Renuka and four brothers. Not this year, but still the tigers roamed the bamboo forests all the same.  

On his last visit to the river little Ram saw the bones of a huge water buffalo. It was a bloody mess. The blue bottle flies buzzed in a cloud over the stinking carcass. His village mourned the loss.  With one less buffalo, the village would have trouble bringing bananas and rice to market. He loved bananas and rice. And with green mango chutney it was even better.

                Yesterday he had gone with his brothers to play by the river. Even though it had rained, the sun was hot, and the mud by the river was dry in places. He loved the feeling of mud between his toes and the cold river water on his skin. 

As he was playing in the water he saw a cobra. Just as the cobra neared, a stork swooped down on him and, picking the cobra up in his beak, wrung its neck, severed its head, and flew away. 

Ram returned home to his brothers and mother Renuka, where he lived at the ashrama of Jamadagni on the banks of the river. He listened to his father chant the mantras of the holy Vedas, and when it was time for rest, he slept peacefully under the summer moon. The frogs and crickets chirped rythmically in the jungle and all was quiet.

But as the moon climbed higher in the heavens, Ram had a dream. In his dream there was an axe, dripping blood. His brothers were lying dead, his mother beheaded. He was covered with blood, holding an axe.  Blood was everywhere. He awoke with a start. The sun was coming up over the river. It was just a dream.

Later that morning, at study time. Little Ram and his brothers listened to their father Jamadagni recite the Vedas. Ram tried to concentrate on his father’s words as he explained to his son the secrets of Vedic mantras, but he kept thinking of the terrible dream he had. As he looked at the river, he remembered the cobra and the stork. It was such a powerful snake, but the stork had snapped his body so quickly with his beak and flew into the sky with silver wings. And the vivid dream last night. What did all these signs mean?

 “Ram! Where are you?” His father said. “In the clouds again? Come back to earth!” His father was a great teacher. He had learned all the important mantras and mastered the Vedas at an early age. Ram's  father was the great Jamadagni, a powerful seer, owner of Kamadhenu the wish-fulfilling cow. Ram was sometimes called  Jamadagneya, which meant “son of Jamadagni.” but he liked Ram better.

Jamadagni Rishi

“Ram! Are you listening to me? Are you dreaming again? Sometimes I think you will never amount to anything. At least your brothers pay attention.” His brothers laughed. Ram was the youngest. He felt his face flush red.

                “Yes, father.”

“What was the lesson?”

“You were speaking of forgiveness. You said that forgiveness is illuminating like the sun. That God is pleased when we forgive.”

“Very good.” said his father.  “Now go help your mother.”

                The boys ran to their mother, who was preparing the lunch.

“Go to the river and bring water. Go now.”

 Ram and his brothers Rumanwat, Sushena, Vasu and Vishvasu ran down the path by the old Banyan tree, past the place where the deer hide at night to sleep, past the bamboo trees where tigers lurk, past the hut of the old rishi, overgrown with papayas, down to the river banks, where six water buffalo were entering the waters.

Downriver the ladies were washing their clothes. The boys played in the mud for a while and then washed in the river. When they finished, they filled the clay water pots to bring home to their mother.

                Just then an old man driving an ox-cart stopped by the river to water his bulls.

“What news, Baba?” They asked him.

                “No news, boys,” he said, pouring water over his thirsty oxen. “Watch out for cobras. Remember the Vedas. Respect your father.”

                “We always respect our father,” Ram said, “He is a great Rishi, and a pious sage. His wife is Renuka, the daughter of King Prasenajit.”

                “Well, well,” said the old man. “Royal blood. You know I met Prince Chitraratha down the road apiece. He stopped to picnic with his queens, and should pass by this way. If your mother is royalty, maybe she knows him.”

                “My mother knows all the kings and queens in India,” Ram said. “I’m sure she knows the Prince.”

                “Well, may the gods bless you,” said the old man, carefully guiding his oxen up the river bank to the main road. 

As his oxcart disappeared down the road, the boys took up their water pots and began walking through the pipul trees, past where the girls in their bright saris washed their laundry by the riverside. They returned through the papaya groves where the peacocks pecked at the orange fruits in the noon-day sun. And when they had reached the ashram of Jamadagni, the sweat gleamed on their brown foreheads.

Ancient Hindu Waterpot

The five brothers smiled at their mother. As Ram filled the house water pots with river water, the older boys told their mother Renuka all they had heard from the old man with the oxen. His brothers Rumanwat and Sushena told her how the Prince Chitraratha was passing by with his queens and royal entourage, mounted on great elephants decorated with golden ornaments. And Vasu and Vishvavasu told her how the king’s green silk turban was greener than the coconuts stolen by the monkeys who lived near the banana trees in the bamboo forest.

With this, a shy smile crept over Renuka’s face, for as it turned out, she did know the Prince Chitaratha. They had played together as children in the court of the King, her father, Prasenajit. She blushed, remembering how handsome the Prince had been. It was true that when the humble forest sage Jamadagni asked for her hand the King had accepted.

Renuka Devi

She had tried to be a good wife to Jamadagni and had given him five beautiful sons, each one more qualified and learned than the other. But, secretely her heart belonged to Chitaratha with his deep blue eyes, black hair and charming smile. And now he was coming down the river with his elephants and entourage. If she could only see him again!

So she asked the boys, “How many pots of water have you brought? Only two? Didn’t you notice the clouds? Look at the sky!” For a huge storm was indeed coming. The sky was black with dark foreboding clouds. It was the time of monsoon. At this time the clouds appeared out of nowhere and the bright noon sky became black as night. The storm could be gone in half an hour, or last for days.

“The rain could last for days,” she said, thinking again of Prince Chitaratha and his well-formed body, his charming smile, the happy days they spent together chasing frogs in the court of King Prasenajit. “I’m surprised you didn’t fetch enough water to last out the storm.”

And little Ram answered, “But there were no clouds when we were fetching water from the river. I’m sure there’s enough water.”

“Listen to your mother,” said the sage Jamadagni. “Haven’t I taught you obedience?”

“Yes, sir.” Said Ram.

“Well these boys have spent enough time playing for one day. Gather fruits for lunch.” said Renuka. “I’ll have to go to the river myself.”

“Alone?” said the sage. “There are cobras in the water by the tall bamboo. I have seen them myself. Besides, the storm is coming. I think we have sufficient water. There’s no need for you to go alone.”

His wife Renuka replied, “When’s the last time you did the cooking? I’m sure the boys haven’t brought enough. And I’m old enough to go to the river by myself, cobras or no.”

So saying, Renuka set off with two empty water jugs to the river and passing the place where the stork had eaten the cobra, she paused to fill her water jugs.

Sure enough, on the other side of the river she could see the Prince Chitraratha and his entourage. An elephant was bathing in the water and shooting a playful spray as the friends of Chitraratha splashed in the river.

The prince himself wore a garland of lotuses, his forehead decorated with sandalwood as he entered the water with the queen and her maids dressed in lovely saris. 

Seeing the prince surrounded by his queen and girlfriends, Renuka blushed again. If not for her marriage to the humble Jamadagni, a teacher of the Vedas, she might have been married to the prince. It would have been her and not this thin little girl who married the prince. She shook with envy, dropping both water pots where they smashed on a rock.

Renuka sat down by the banks of the river and wept.

And as the sun began to go down over the river, little Ram sat quietly, meditating. He had spent the afternoon gathering fruits for lunch with his brothers. But lunch was later. His mother had left to fetch water a long time ago. And as the clouds gathered for the monsoon storm, she still hadn't returned from the river. It was warm and Ram was overcome with drowsiness. He found a cool spot under the old tamarind tree to rest on his grass mat. Soon he was fast asleep. In a dream he saw his father’s rage, his eyes red. Something was wrong. Jamadagni ordered little Ram to take an axe and kill his brothers and his mother.

Vishnu Deity found in excavation of Volga River near Moscow

Then in his dream, the god Viṣṇu  appeared before him and said, “You must obey your father. After his rage passes, ask him to forgive your brothers and your mother. He has great mystic power. Whatever he asks is only to test you. He is a compassionate man. Remember the lesson on forgiveness. Ask him to restore things the way they were before. Ask him to forgive your mother and restore her life. When her life is restored, ask him to grant her forgetfulness, so that she will remember nothing of what has happened. Die to live.”

So saying, Viṣṇu disappeared. When he awoke, little Ram saw that the stork had appeared again, landing close to where he slept, with the cobra still in his beak. This time the cobra was alive. The stork left the cobra on the ground and flew away and little Ram watched as the cobra, shaking himself, slithered away into the tall grass, his head and neck intact.

 Remembering the dream and all that the god had said, little Ram heard the call for lunch. He followed his brothers into the kitchen, but his mother had not returned from the river. His father was alone, his eyes burning with rage. “Your mother has not returned from the river.” he said. “When she returns, we will teach her a lesson.”

Woman with waterpot, Rajasthan