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Thursday, September 15, 2016

The Royal Question


Śukadeva takes the Vyāsasana


Now, one might wonder what Vyāsa was doing in the audience. His guru Nārada was there as well. But both Vyāsa and Nārada sat quietly and listened with interest to the boy.

Vyāsa was certainly qualified to recite the Bhāgavata. After all, it was his composition. Why, then, was he content to sit and listen to his disciple? Wasn’t he a qualified spiritual master, well-versed in the Vedas? After all, he had written the Vedas.

And yet, the Vedas contain apparently contradictory instructions. Vyāsa himself was unsatisfied with the karmic sections of the Vedas. This was his motive for writing the Bhāgavata. And he was so much associated with the old teachings of the Vedas, he could hardly be the perfect speaker of the Bhāgavata.


Vyāsa composing the Mahābharata

The Vedas are considered to be like a desire tree. A desire tree can fulfill all wishes. So the religious texts of the Vedas has something for everyone who has risen above a basic animal level of consciousness. For one who has developed a moral conscience there is sacrifice and rituals to please the gods and strictures against murder, stealing, adultery, and so on, just as in the Christian Bible. 

Those who are more advanced can find freedom from birth and death by practicing the kinds of meditations advocated in the Upanishads. The Mahābharata gives vivid examples of the Vedic system in action with all the actions and reactions that karma might produce. And a hint of the greatest transcendence is given in the Bhagavad-gita. 

The branches of knowledge found in the Vedic desire tree include a number of sciences from medicine in the Ayur-Veda, to astrology, alchemy, ritual sorcery, ethics in the Artha-Śāstra, and even the practice of the most intense sensual pleasures in the famous Kama-sutra. The philosophical knowledge of Vedic traditions include metaphysics, ontology, cosmology, epistemology, and ethics. And yet, with all these important branches of knowledge, The Bhāgavata is considered to the ripened fruit of the Vedic desire tree because it yields the highest gift: Divine Love.


But Vyāsa had compiled a veritable encyclopedia of mundane and religious information. If he were to represent his own work, it would be more difficult to see in context. The Bhāgavata would be seen as merely another of Vyāsa’s great treatises. its 18,000 verses dwarfed by the far vaster work of the Mahābhārata.

It is said that when a ripened mango has been touched by the beak of a parrot the fruit is much sweeter. The taste is enhanced by the parrot’s beak. Perhaps this is because the parrot, being such a discriminating bird, always chooses the best fruit. 

The parrot is careful to taste only the sweetest fruit. So when one finds a piece of fruit that has been touched by the parrot’s beak, one knows that this fruit must be the best on the tree. Other’s feel that the parrot’s beak itself is endowed with certain properties such that the taste of the fruit is definitely enhanced by its touch.


In any case, Śuka is compared to a parrot: not merely because he could recite each verse exactly as written by Vyāsa himself, but because his natural speech enhances the sweetness of the original Sanskrit. Even though Śukadeva was already enlightened in all respects, he was naturally attracted by the sweetness of this divine work, just as the parrot cannot resist a fully ripened mango.

As he ascended the seat of honor before the condemned king, he paused and looked at those who had gathered there to witness the last days of the great king. All wondered at the sight of this boy. The son of Vyāsa was gentle and mild, only sixteen years old.

His father looked on, glowing in admiration. His son was the perfect representative of the divine message. He saw that Śukadeva was delicately formed. His limbs were well-turned. His eyes were wide as lotus petals. His nose was fine and his ears were raised. All in all, he was handsome. He was naked as the day he was born, and his complexion was that of a raincloud, like unto Kṛṣṇa Himself.

Nārada and the sages, yogis and saints present there could understand from his bearing that he was a saintly person. All rose. As he lowered his eyes at this honor, the women, seated at a distance, found his natural grace and easy smile pleasing to behold.

At that time the great king who had taken a stern vow to fast unto death, Mahārāja Parīkṣit, son of Abhimanyu, grandson of Arjuna, bowed his head in humility. As they stood in respect, Śukadeva Gosvāmī sat in the place of honor surrounded by gods and saints, Rishis and yogis, his father Vyāsa and Nārada the spiritual preceptor of Vyāsa himself. With so many illuminated personalities, Śukadeva looked like the moon surrounded by stars and planets.

And seated on the place of honor, that boy looked serene and wise.
The King came near. He offered his respects with folded hands and, after asking permission, took his seat before the son of Vyāsa.

After offering some sweet words to the boy who glowed with enlightenment, that king said: “As I am desperate and on the verge of death and you are the spiritual master of great saints and devotees, I am therefore begging you to show the way of perfection for all persons, and especially for one who is about to die. You are free from all material attachments. In fact is said that you are so detached that you have no fixed residence: you hardly stay in a houses of men long enough that a cow might be milked. 

The king said, "I accept you as my guru and surrender myself unto thee. Please instruct me. Let me know what one should do when he is on the point of death. What should such a man hear, chant, remember and worship? And also please tell me what he should not do. Please explain all this to me. What is favorable and what is unfavorable?”


“Such was the question of Mahārāja Parikṣita,” said Suta, who was telling the story before the thousands gathered in the forest of Naimisharanya. He paused his narrative. Once again he looked high and saw a beam of light falling through the branches of the banyan tree. On a high branch, there was a Śuka bird, playing in the leaves. This tree bore no sweet fruit, but the bird was pleased to hear the sweet discourse of Suta as he reported what he had heard of the dying king and the young sage who spoke to comfort him in his last days.

And the crowd of 80,000 sages who had gathered to hear Suta’s version were eager to hear more. Now they understood that there was a deeper literature than the Mahābharata. They had heard the Mahābharata from Suta, but had asked for something more.

And as they listened to Suta describe that supernatural conversation that had taken place in the presence of both Vyāsa and Nārada, they knew that deeper secrets were about to be revealed.

And so it was that upon hearing the question asked by King Parikṣita, the crowd that had gathered in the forest leaned closer. They wanted to hear how Śukadeva would answer the king’s questions about birth and death and what is favorable and unfavorable for attaining the highest goal.

Śrī Sūta Gosvāmī cleared his throat. He drank Ganges water from a cup made of lotus leaves. Looking over the crowd of 80,000, he said: “The King thus spoke and questioned the sage, using sweet language. At that time, the son of Vyāsadeva, Bhagavan Śrī Śukadeva, expert in the highest principles of dharma, began his reply.”


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