La historia empieza

Mahabharata

Version antigua de Mahabharata en Sánskrita

Mientras me encuentro con la tarea de recontar la historia de Mahabharata, busque a una persona bien calificada para traducir mi version particular de esta tradición. Estoy tratando de crear una version moderna, que preserve la antigua, conservando sus valores.  Una version viva que nos permita entrar en la vida de sus protagonistas. Muchas versiones usan una prosa demasiada adornada. Mahabharata esta llena de detalles increibles. Estoy tratando de ser fiel a la historia, incluyendo su drama tanto como su sabiduria, pero omitiendo los detalles que no son centrales al argumento ya que el original cuenta con 100,000 versos en sánskrita.  

Curiosamente, Mahabharata suena mucho mejor en español que en inglés, dado que el castellano tiende a ser más heroico. En castellano ya tenemos historias tales como El Cid Campeador, y El Quijote. El Cid, considerado el progenitor de composiciones en español por academicos, tiene un balance entre tremendos hechos heroicos y el realismo. El Quijote pretende burlar a lo caballeresco, pero nos deja con un sabor del misticismo y el realism magico  del siglo 16. 

Hay elementos de realismo y magia en Mahabharata, entonces se adapta perfectamente bien en el estilo del Cid Campeador o El Quijote de Cervantes. Quizás con el tiempo los lectores en español le van a apreciar como una literatura todavía más profunda que los arriba mencionados, por las importantes enseñanzas de sabiduria encontradas en la parte de Mahabharata conocido como Bhagavad-gita, lo cual solo tiene paralelos en la Santa Biblia. 

Mi poder de expresion en el Castellano es limitado. Así que estoy pasando la batuta a Teresa Loret de Mola (Tapanandini DD) que cuenta con mucha experiencia en la materia de traducción. Leer su excelente traducción me alegra mucho y siento que suena todavía mejor en español que en inglés. Ojalá que Ustedes gozen mucho de la lectura. Cordialmente, Michael Dolan-B.V. Mahayogi

Morir para Vivir

Continuamos con nuestra adaptación del Mahābharata. Por el momento damos la historia en fragmentos. Luego colleccionamos los fragmentos y publicamos el libro entero. 

La escena cambia. Antes de retirarse del campo de batalla Kṛṣṇa y los Pāṇḍavas se presentaron ante el gran héroe Bhiṣma, empalado entre miles de flechas.

Bhiṣma empalado en la cama de flechas

Y Kṛṣṇa, habiendo escuchado las dulces palabras de la dama Kunti, sonrió. Dirigió su cuadriga desde el campo de batalla hacia donde estaba el bisabuelo de los Kurus y los Pāṇḍavas, Bhiṣma, quien yacía empalado en un lecho de flechas.

El poderoso Arjuna sostenía su arco Gandiva, con el rostro sombrío y abatido. El sobrio Yudhiṣthira, su hermano mayor, el Rey, dijo una oración solemne en un lóbrego susurro sobre los soldados caídos. Bhīma se apoyaba en su mazo que tocaba el suelo. Nakula inclinaba su poderosa espada. Permanecían con las manos ensangrentadas alrededor de la fantasmal figura. Enclavado en el suelo ante ellos se halla el guerrero ancestral. El pasto se ha pintado de rojo con la sangre que le rodea. Es robusto y fuerte.

Lleva puesta una cota de malla y armadura de un Rey. Está armado con daga y espada, cuchillo y puñal. Su arco yace en el suelo junto a él. Su larga barba blanca y su frente ajada revelan su edad. Parece que tuviera cientos de años, pero su físico se conserva poderoso. Y lo más curioso de todo, es que está suspendido entre la tierra y el cielo en una cama de miles de flechas. Las flechas lo atraviesan por completo de pies a cabeza. Está paralizado, inmóvil. 

Y sin embargo, no ha muerto.

Este es el gran general Bhiṣma, hijo de Shantany, nacido del Ganges, el de los votos terribles patriarco de los Kurus y de los Pāṇḍavas, líder de legiones de guerreros tales como Droṇa, Kripa, Karna y los legendarios cien hijos del rey ciego Dhṛtaraṣṭra. Maldecido a morir hasta que anhele la propia muerte, él sabe que le ha llegado la hora. Su voluntad de vivir se ha quebrantado. Espera a que el sol entre en el cuadrante norte del cielo ya que es esa la hora favorable para morir. Sus ojos sorprendidos  contemplan la abyecta destrucción provocada por la Gran Guerra. Tantos cuerpos  contaminan el paisaje.

Bhiṣma contempla la masacre, sus ojos azules profundos beben del páramo de violencia y caballos destrozados, huesos rotos, y los cráteres de explosivos que han mutilado elefantes. Millas y millas de campo de guerra. El verde de la tierra se ha teñido con el rojo de la sangre. Hoyos negros y cráteres. Arboles destrozados cual cerillas.

Y así los Pāṇḍavas y Kṛṣṇa rodearon de cerca al gran héroe, quien daba su último suspiro mientras el sol se dirigía hacia el cuadrante norte del cielo, se acercaron y le solicitaron que relatase su historia. Viendo a este Dios yacer en el suelo cual ángel caído, el noble Rey Yudhiṣthira se inclinó ante él. Algunos santos del bosque, rishis y santos también se habían reunido ahí a ofrecer agua al guerrero agonizante.

La lengua del ancestral guerrero está  muy negra tal como las llanuras de guerra que le rodean. Está muerto de sed. “Agua”, murmura. El poderoso Arjuna, siente compasión por esta gran alma, toma su arco mágico y lanza dardos tan rápido que ni el ojo es capaz de ver y construye con ellos un sostén de flechas para que el gran héroe pueda descansar la cabeza. Con otra flecha, perfora la tierra.

El sagrado río Ganges, la madre de Bhiṣma apareció en la forma de un arroyo, fluyó delicadamente formando un pequeño manantial de preciada agua, que humedeció su boca. Bhiṣma bebió. Bhīma miró su mazo y sacudió la cabeza. Incapaz de hablar. Los hijos gemelos de Madri, Nakula y Sahadeva permanecián en silencio junto a sus hermanos, con las cabezas inclinadas. En esos momentos santos como Parvata Muni, Narada, Dhaumya, Vyāsa y otros grandes santos y sabios estaban ahí reunidos.

Y mientras los hombres permanecían en silencio, sorprendidos ante la destrucción que la rivalidad había causado, un niño apareció en medio de la devastación del campo de batalla. No podía ser mayor de cinco o seis años. ¿Cómo sobrevivió a la devastación? ¿Dónde estaba su madre? El niño estaba vestido como el hijo de un brahmán. Vestía un pulcro dhoti blanco. Un paño envolvía su cintura, y una sencilla tela bordada de flores adornaba sus hombros. Caminó hacia el grupo.

¿Es un yogui místico? ¿Será una más de las intervenciones divinas de Kṛṣṇa? Dejaron que el niño se acercara. Sonriendo, se acercó al anciano que yacía en una cama de flechas y le ofreció una guirnalda de jazmines. Colocó las flores aromáticas en la frente del adolorido anciano y sonrió hacia el abuelo de los guerreros y solicitó, “Por favor, ¡Oh abuelo. Dime! ¿Cómo fue que nuestra familia, los hijos de Kuru y los hijos de Paṇḍu llegamos hasta esta devastación? ¿Cuáles fueron las verdaderas causas de esta gran Guerra? Yo contaré tu historia para que estas cosas nunca vuelvan a suceder.”

Bhiṣma, empalado en su lecho de flechas, miró hacia el niño. 

Entendió que este niño brahmán debía ser un agente, enviado desde arriba. En su pena y dolor, apretó los dientes y sonrió hacia el niño. Sería ésta la última oportunidad para contar su historia antes de que el sol llegara hasta el norte y tuviera que morir. Así que, el grave guerrero que había destruido miles de cuadrigas contó la historia de su nacimiento. Cómo nació como el hijo de Gangadevi, la Diosa del Ganges, hacía mucho tiempo. 

Child Bharat

Kunti continued, "With this the nanny came through the ashoka grove bearing a toy bird.

Toy Shakunta bird.

It was a little replica of the kind of birds that attended Shakuntala when she was a helpless infant, abandoned in the woods by her mother the apsara Menaka, so long ago. 

Shakunta birds cared for the little infant

And when the nanny came through the aśoka trees, she said: "Here boy. I brought you your toy. Your shakunta birdie. Here boy. Come and play with the birdie." And she showed him the brightly painted bird of clay.

But the boy only heard the word, "shakunta."

"Mother!" he said. "Where is my mother?" he cried, running toward the nanny.

Dushyant went pale. The blood disappeared from his cheeks. "That word. shakunt," he thought. "Could it be that this child had some connection with his long lost love, the innocent girl he had known in the forest of mangos so long ago at the ashram of the sage Kanva? What cruel twist of fate had led to this moment?"

And at this moment the boy grabbed the bird from the nurses hand and ran about in the grove of ashoka trees. As the sunshine threw dappled shadows on the earth he ran barefoot with tousled hair waving the bird about as if it really could fly. 

And as he ran waving his arms about, the nurse could see that an amulet was missing from his wrist.

"Where is your bracelet boy?" she said.

But the boy simply ran around chasing the bird that flew from his hand in his imagination.

"His bracelet fell when he was playing with the lion cubs," said the king, pointing to a glistening object on the ground. 

Bharat playing with lion cub

And where he looked was a golden wrist-bangle studded with precious stones, shining in the golden sands of the ashoka grove. 

Gold bracelet

"Here, allow me." And he reached to pick it up.

"Don't!" said the nurse, grabbing the king's hand before he could touch the amulet. But the king brushed her away and took hold of the shining object, holding it up to the light to inspect it. How it shined in the morning sun! Was this some divine jewelry, crafted from the gods. 

The king smiled at the nurse, admiring the bracelet "Why not?"

"Your majesty. I can see that you are a noble king. But you are in a land of strange miracles. This child is not ordinary at all. When he was born here in this holy place of pilgrimage, Kashyapa himself, son of Marichi, gave this bracelet to the infant at the time of his birth ceremony. 

Endowed with magic powers the amulet is charmed. If it falls to the ground no one may touch it except the boy himself or his parents. That bracelet you are holding is mystical"

"And what happens if someone else touches the amulet, someone other than the boy's father or mother."

The nurse looked him in the eye. "It is a protective amulet. It transforms into an asp and stings him, or anyone else who dares to molest the boy. How strange that it has lost its power. Normally you would writhing in pain from snakebite by now. Perhaps it was broken in the fall"

"Have you ever seen such a terrible thing happen before?" said the king.

"More than once," said the maid.

With this the boy finished his frolicking, ran back to the nurse and the king who returned his amulet. Fixing it once again to his wrist, the boy looked at the king again as if for the first time.  He frowned and said, "Where's my mother?" 

Child Bharat

Dushyant smiled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just now we are going to meet her," he said. "You shall see her in just a minute."

The boy tried to shake the foreign hand off his shoulder. "Let me go."

But Dushyant's hand of fatherly affection was firm on the boy's shoulder.

"Be patient, my son." he said. "We shall see your mother in just a moment."

"Let me go," said the boy, "shaking free. Don't call me 'son.' You're not my father."

"We'll soon see about that."

"Let me go! I want to see my mother!" said the boy, pulling free.

Wisdom Traditions

 The so-called “wisdom traditions of the East” are deeper than they appear at first glance. These traditions have been practiced and developed over a period of time stretching back at least 50 centuries by the calculations of esteemed academics. This wisdom has survived invasion, the destruction of empires, the rise and fall of Rome. Centuries later these traditions are alive and well, inspiring generations with their ideas. It’s worth mentioning here that the innovations in computer technology that led to mobile phones and laptops were really based on the ideas of Alan Turing; Ideas which required no machines. The ideas forming the background of ancient India are profound and worthy of study.

If we examine the ideas at the heart of the commonly understood ancient wisdom traditions of the East mentioned by Dr. Chopra in many of his lectures we will find that they are basically seven-fold. These include six materialistic or “atheistic” theories. The deepest and noblest of the wisdom traditions go beyond atheistic principles to include a higher sense of the spiritual self. We shall deal with theistic traditions elsewhere.

The point of discussing the atheistic or materialistic theories first is to give the reader a chance to reflect on the lack of originality on the part of so-called “great minds” who espouse these concepts as if they were new.

Not content to ask deeper questions  erudite savants of cognitive science, evolutionary biologists, and quantum physicists become media figures celebrating their brilliant insights. But great minds like Douglas Hofstadter, Richard Dawkins, Stephen Hawkings and their followers haven’t done their homework. They don’t see that the philosophies backing their wildest speculations are nothing new.

Six atheistic or materialistic theories have deeply influenced western thought. We see traces of these ideas in the teachings of Douglas Hofstatder, Richard Dawkins, and even Stephen Hawkings. The philosophical ideas of India have been examined and mined by Western philosophers for centuries and were known to Einstein, Oppenheimer and the great physicists of the 20^th century.

The analysis of the materialistic aspects of Indian philosophy into six basic schools is an accepted view promoted first by Bhaktivinoda Thakura in the 19^th century, later codified by S. Radhakrishnan in his two volume study of Indian Philosophy in the 1940s.

It is useful to have a grasp of these materialistic and atheistic philosophies before approaching the higher, spiritual practices that go beyond mere speculation.

In the 1980s I had the opportunity to study these philosophies and the ideas at their core with  eminent sanskrit scholar, philosopher, and param-guru of the Sri Caitanya Saraswat Math in India, His Divine Grace Bhakti Rakṣaka Śrīdhar Dev Goswāmi. We published his lectures in a series of books at Guardian of Press in San José California.  Here’s a breakdown of these six philosophies from the book Search for Sri Krishna (1983) His comments are worth noting, since he gives a nutshell version of the first six wisdom traditions, which have roots in non-theistic concepts. What he says is astonishing. Here´s the excerpt from his talks.

Six Atheistic Philosophies of India

Atomic theory

There are six ancient philosophical systems of India. The first is the Vaiśeṣika philosophy of Kaṇāda Ṛṣi: the atomic theory. According to him, everything is made of atoms. So many different atoms combine and produce this world. Kaṇa means atomic particle. So many atomic particles have combined and produced this world by chance, with no necessity of any reason, rhyme, consciousness, nothing of the kind. And the outcome of these combinations has produced what we find here. That is the opinion of Kaṇāda: it is an atomic world. “By chance atoms have been combined, and with the dissolution of atoms, nothing will remain. Why do you bother? Don’t care. What is fate? It is nothing; ignore it. And when the body is dissolved, nothing will remain. Why lament?”

                         

Analysis, Yoga, and Logic

             

            Kapila has come with the Sāṅkhya philosophical system of analysis saying, “Analyze matter, and you will be free from all this pain.” Patañjali has come with yoga, “Hey, jīvātma! Come to meet Paramātmā! Then all the problems of this world will go away from you. Come in connection with Paramātmā, the Supersoul.” This is his recommendation .

            Gautama comes with logic, nyāya śāstra: “There is one Maker, one Creator, but He is indifferent. He has created this world, finished, and left it. And you must try to live with the help of your reason. Develop your reasoning faculty, and be reasonable in all your conduct. Then only can you help yourself in this world. There is no other remedy. Be a good logician, and then you will be able to control the environment with the power of reason, and you will be happy.” And Kaṇāda:        

Karma

             

            Then, with the philosophy of karma-mīmāṁsā, Jaimini says, “There may be a prime mover who has connected us with this world and our karma, but karma is all in all. He is an indifferent observer. He has got no hold on us any longer. According to our karma we shall thrive or we shall go down. So, these activities are recommended to you. If you go on with your karma you will be happy. Of course, it cannot be denied; karma phala, the result of karma, diminishes and is ended. But stick to karma, good karma; don’t go to bad karma. The result of good karma will be finished, but that does not matter; again go on doing good karma, and the good result will await you in heaven, and you will have a happy life. If anything is friendly to you, it is your karma. There is God, but He is indifferent. He is bound to serve you either good or bad, according to your karma. He has no independence.”

Buddhism

             

            Then another class of philosophy is that of Buddha: “Only the combination of different things has created your mental system. With the dissolution of the mental system, nothing remains. So, somehow, we must dissolve the mental system. Practice ahiṁsā, nonviolence, satya, truthfulness, the practice of right living, ethical dharma and so on.

Summary

            It is seen that all these philosophers are talking either of renunciation or of exploitation (bhukti, mukti). And by setting different types of enchanting traps, they arrange to capture the jīva soul. Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākur, the nineteenth century founder of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, sings in one song:  keśava! tuyā jagata vichitra. “O my Lord Kṛṣṇa, I see that everything is available in Your world, which has an infinite, variegated nature. Separated from You, however, we are always feeling miseries. A continuous flow of suffering has swallowed us from birth to death, and we cannot tolerate the pain of such misery. And so many relief agents: Kapila, Patañjali, Gautama, Kaṇāda, Jaimini, Buddha, are running towards us, offering their solutions. But I have come to realize that these fellows are all cheaters. And they all have this common stand; they have no touch of Your devotion, Your service. There, they are one. They cannot deliver any real good. They are common to oppose Your devotional service and supremacy. And ultimately they leave us in chaos. From the ultimate standpoint, I see that they are agents engaged by You to segregate the seriously diseased persons to another ward, for the good of the less seriously diseased patients. It is Your arrangement to segregate the hopeless persons to another side for the benefit of the good side. That is Your design, and they are playing in Your hand like so many dolls. They are Your agents and they are also serving You in some way, because nothing is outside You.”

Bhaktivinoda Thakura concludes by saying, “I bid good-bye to them all. I feel in my heart that I shall show respect to all these so-called good agents from a distance, however, my only real capital is the dust of the holy feet of Your devotees. I rely on that dust as the source of all my prospects. I seek to put all my energy into taking the dust of their holy lotus feet upon my head. This is everything for me.”