Nala and Damayanti 2: A Sage Visits

नारायणं नमस्कृत्य नरं चैव नरोत्तमम्

 देवीं सरस्वतीं चैव ततो जयम् उदीरयेत्

The "Big Tree" Brihad Aswa

महाभरत

Mahābharata

As retold by

Michael Dolan, B.V. Mahāyogi

Nala and Damayanti

They called him Brihad Asva, which meant “big tree.” Perhaps it was because of the “big tree” where his guru had his ashram, or maybe it was because he was a big man for a forest sage. He was a seer of the truth, a tattva-darshibhi. 



He knew the past and could see the future. He had spent a long time in the Khandava forest.

Brihad Asva knew where to find the pure water of the forest and how to call the sacred fire from sticks. He could eat without hunting for he knew the flower-bearing trees and herbs and was blessed by the gods. He knew the Vedas and the histories called Puranas. He knew that the Pandavas were resting near here. He was a big man and as he tramped through the forest the night creatures fled before him. 

Through the branches of an old tamarind tree he could see the light of a campfire burning low, men stretching and relaxing before taking their night’s rest.

Brihad Aswa had walked a long way through the wilderness to reach this place. He could see that the Pandavas had picked the best place to make their camp. They were close to the Saraswati river and there were plenty of fruit trees. The clearing they had chosen was well-protected by thornbushes. He could see Bhima, and Yudhisthira the king. They were arguing while Nakula and Sahadeva kept the watch, bows at the ready.  Taking a step forward he stepped on twig. Bhima sprang into action. At once he picked up his mace and pierced the forest with his dark glance.

“Perhaps it’s only the wind,” said Yudhisthira.

“Who goes there?” said Bhima.

“Yudhisthira Mahārāja ki Jai!” said a voice in the night.

“I come in peace.”

Sword in hand, Yudhisthira had joined his brother. They peered into the moonless night, through the brambles, adjusting their eyes. A form came through the tall bamboo near the river’s bank. Yudhisthira touched his brother’s arm: “Hold,” he said.

“I come in peace,” said the voice again. They saw a robust man as large as a tree, clad in deerskin, a rope for a belt. His hair was piled on his head and matted. Through an unruly black beard his clear blue eyes and ready smile told them he was a friend. “Shanti, Om.”

Yudhisthira sheathed his sharp sword. Bhima rested his mace on the tamarind tree. They could see the man was a pilgrim, a saint, a truth-seer of the old school of forest sages. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Welcome to our humble camp,” said Bhima. “Excuse our manners, but there are bears in this forest.”

“Long live the king,” said the sage.

“And glory to the saints,” said Yudhisthira. You bless us, sir with your presence. Holy places are called “tirthas” or places of pilgrimage  not because of their monuments, but because of the great men who bless them from time to time with their footsteps. What brings you to the sacred river?”

“I heard from a passing brahmana that the sons of Pandu were here nearby and had to see for myself. I come here not to bless the holy places but to take your blessings, for you my dear king are dear to God Himself, Kṛṣṇa, and all the saints.




The whole world awaits your rule which will take place in only a few seasons of the sun.”

Yudhisthira said, “We have heard your name, Brihad Aswa, you are indeed like a great tree. A tree is both tolerant and humble and gives shade, shelter and fruit to many, while demanding nothing in return. As you have taken shelter of the great tree of knowledge who was your guru before you, you can give shelter to others. Forgive our fallen condition and accept my humble obeisances.”

And so saying, Yudhisthira and Bhima, moved by the humility of this tree-like man who had come so far only to serve the king, fell at the feet of Brihad Aswa with folded hands in prayer.

Brihad Aswa bowed low, gently taking the king by the shoulder and raising him to his feet. “You do me wrong, O king to honour me so. Please, arise. And tell me, how did you come to this place? How are your brothers?   And the gentle Draupadi? How does she fare in this dark forest?”

And so, having met with the tree-like sage in the moonless night by the sacred river, Yudhisthira and Bhima took him back to camp and did their best to make him comfortable and offer him what hospitality they could.

The following morning, Brihad Aswa arose early. And after he had bathed in the holy waters of the river and performed his morning meditation he met again with the Pandavas who entertained him with fresh drink and a hot meal. Draupadi had been blessed with a copper vessel that produced an endless quantity of freshly cooked rice and other victuals. Brihad Aswa asked the Pandavas of their travels in the forest and they told him all about their adventures. 

Finally,  when he had been fully refreshed and given a proper seat, the Pandavas wanted to hear  from him. Bhima said, “It was good you came when you did; my brother the king and I almost came to blows.”

“How could an honest and faithful warrior bound in allegiance argue with his older brother and king?” said the sage. 

Yudhisthira said, “It is my fault.  O saintly one, listen to my doubts and balance my mind. I am in a great crisis.”

“Yes, my son. Speak.” Said the sage.

“I have put my brothers and my kingdom at risk. I gambled away my wealth, my kingdom and my wife.”

Pandavas in Exile

Bhima interrupted, “But we can fight! We can punish Duryodhana and his cousins,” he said, flexing his arms.

“Let us hear your brother.” Said Brihad Aswa, shifting his position on his seat. “Continue.”

Yudhisthira picked up a mango leaf and studied it as he spoke. “I am a king. We have a code. When challenged, we must answer the call, whether to battle or any other conflict. 

He twisted the leaf between his fingers.

“Summoned by cunning gamblers skilled at dice, I was forced to answer the call. To refuse the challenge would be cowardice. If my allies knew I had refused a challenge they would consider me weak and join the opposition.”

Crushing the leaf between his fingers, Yudhisthira looked at his brother Bhima whose eyes still seethed with rage.

“I could hardly refuse the challenge of my cousins. And yet he employed his uncle, a cunning cheat named Shakuni, an expert with dice to destroy me. It is said that he cast his father’s bones into dice. He would talk to the dice and they would do his bidding for revenge. While I took the challenge I am not expert in games of chance and know little of cheating.” 

Yudhisthira cast the leaf aside and fixed Brihad Aswa with his stare. The sage listened carefully, taking a sip of clean water from a cup made of leaves.

Yudhisthira said, “I am an honest men. But these sinful men cheated me. They cheated me of my wife and brothers. They made me take an oath of exile and as my word is my bond I must keep my promise.”

“But now I have nothing. I wander as you see me here, dressed in rags and deerskin, sleeping under a tree.  I have lost my brother, the quick and sleepless Arjuna.  My wife is dressed in rags and has only scorn for my cowardice. My brother the mighty Bhima wants to ride me into battle. I am trapped by my promises, condemned by my vice, impoverished and cheated. If I decide for war, we shall be slaughtered. We are outnumbered and outmanned. Our allies are scattered. We are homeless and helpless, deserted by our friends. And yet if we strike prematurely we shall surely face destruction. How could this happen? A king is not supposed to despair. I am a man, a warrior. How long should I stay here in the forest like a criminal in hiding? I don’t think I can go on like this.”

The sage looked at the horizon. He could see the sacred river Saraswati in the distance. Its silver flow seemed to fade into infinity. He reflected on the words of the king and remembered the teachings of the ancient Puranas. His gaze met Yudhisthira’s

The king was disconsolate: “Has anyone ever suffered like me? Look at us." 

"We have been cast out, ridiculed, impoverished, stripped of kingdom and home and dressed in rags…Has any king every been more unfortunate than myself? 

“Tell me if you can of anyone who has fallen lower than I have, who  is more wretched than I am.”

“I am feeling the weight of this exile. My brothers and my followers are counting on me to return and rule my kingdom from Hastinapura. But the road is long.  I don’t feel I have the strength to continue on this harsh path. At the risk of being slaughtered like sheep I am sorely tempted to break my vows and seek revenge against these evildoers. Perhaps Bhima is right after all. It’s time to wreak havoc and mayhem on the sons of Dhritarasthra. But I am confused about my path. How do you see things?”

The tree-like sage sat in the lotus position. His meditation had taken him back into another time. He remembered the histories he had been taught. Brihad Aswa knew the importance of Yudhisthira’s promise and the depth of his despair. He became grave and began to tell his story.

“O great king,” said Brihad Aswa, “you are not the only one who has been in this position.”

“Tell me O sage.”