Chapter 12
Yajnyawalkya's journey to Videha took him through various parts of the kingdom. The king's horsemen rode ahead. Behind them, in a carriage pulled by horses, sat Yajnyawalkya and his followers. By the end of the first day, they reached the outskirts of the town. The path ahead now lay through a forest. It was nearing sunset when they entered the forest. Yajnyawalkya asked the charioteer to halt. When Yajnyawalkya stepped down, it was sundown, but there were still traces of sunlight lingering in some quarters of the forest. The forest had suddenly come alive with multiple sounds. The atmosphere was filled with a queer anxiety that impels all living creatures to seek the safety of the known and the familiar before the night sets in. Suddenly from somewhere, not very far, one could hear the chatter of a lone monkey. Suddenly all other sounds dropped to a frozen silence and then birds resumed their chirping with a greater intensity. The tree-tops swayed to the incessant movement of the roosting birds. The forest seemed to sink anew every night into a swoon of fear with the coming of darkness. The primordial fear of darkness seemed to be born afresh as never experienced before, and brought in its trail all the primordial urges that were silenced during the day.
Yajnyawalkya left his retinue behind and walked alone in search of a solitary retreat. A few steps ahead of him was a brook, and a mighty banyan tree stood brooding over it.
Yajnyawalkya spread his mat-seat under the great expanse of the tree and sat down. Shadows seemed to chase shadows until they were scarcely distinct from each other. Yajnyawalkya watched the twilight. An ancient primitive loneliness pervaded his mind. The pain proclaimed its reality. The awareness of who, what or where he was ceased to mean anything in the profound knowledge of pain and loneliness. He closed his eyes. He heard nothing but the voice that said, “I am”.
When he opened his eyes, the last vestige of light had spread its web of magic over everything as if to remind the onlooker that everything visible was only a feat of magic. Yajnyawalkya desperately held on to the vestige of departing light as though it was his last chance of discovering what he was seeking. And suddenly in the afterglow of the departing light of sunset he beheld a woman clad in the rays of the evening sun. The woman seemed to smile through her transparent veil. Her smile produced in him a tremendous upsurge of energy he had ever experienced. It seemed to have ignited a spark that grew into a blazing flame. The woman smiled once again, an ensnaring bewitching smile, as though she had his soul in her custody. The vision faded, leaving behind in its wake a soft, elusive glow.
Yajnyawalkya's senses received a jolt. He continued to stare in front of him, trying to gather the scattered wands of consciousness. Gradually, as the image sank into his memory, he realized that the woman bore the face of Gargi.
Yajnyawalkya's journey to Videha took him through various parts of the kingdom. The king's horsemen rode ahead. Behind them, in a carriage pulled by horses, sat Yajnyawalkya and his followers. By the end of the first day, they reached the outskirts of the town. The path ahead now lay through a forest. It was nearing sunset when they entered the forest. Yajnyawalkya asked the charioteer to halt. When Yajnyawalkya stepped down, it was sundown, but there were still traces of sunlight lingering in some quarters of the forest. The forest had suddenly come alive with multiple sounds. The atmosphere was filled with a queer anxiety that impels all living creatures to seek the safety of the known and the familiar before the night sets in. Suddenly from somewhere, not very far, one could hear the chatter of a lone monkey. Suddenly all other sounds dropped to a frozen silence and then birds resumed their chirping with a greater intensity. The tree-tops swayed to the incessant movement of the roosting birds. The forest seemed to sink anew every night into a swoon of fear with the coming of darkness. The primordial fear of darkness seemed to be born afresh as never experienced before, and brought in its trail all the primordial urges that were silenced during the day.
Yajnyawalkya left his retinue behind and walked alone in search of a solitary retreat. A few steps ahead of him was a brook, and a mighty banyan tree stood brooding over it.
Yajnyawalkya spread his mat-seat under the great expanse of the tree and sat down. Shadows seemed to chase shadows until they were scarcely distinct from each other. Yajnyawalkya watched the twilight. An ancient primitive loneliness pervaded his mind. The pain proclaimed its reality. The awareness of who, what or where he was ceased to mean anything in the profound knowledge of pain and loneliness. He closed his eyes. He heard nothing but the voice that said, “I am”.
When he opened his eyes, the last vestige of light had spread its web of magic over everything as if to remind the onlooker that everything visible was only a feat of magic. Yajnyawalkya desperately held on to the vestige of departing light as though it was his last chance of discovering what he was seeking. And suddenly in the afterglow of the departing light of sunset he beheld a woman clad in the rays of the evening sun. The woman seemed to smile through her transparent veil. Her smile produced in him a tremendous upsurge of energy he had ever experienced. It seemed to have ignited a spark that grew into a blazing flame. The woman smiled once again, an ensnaring bewitching smile, as though she had his soul in her custody. The vision faded, leaving behind in its wake a soft, elusive glow.
Yajnyawalkya's senses received a jolt. He continued to stare in front of him, trying to gather the scattered wands of consciousness. Gradually, as the image sank into his memory, he realized that the woman bore the face of Gargi.
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