Chapter 16
By a quirk of fate Yajnyawalkya had landed again in Videha. He arrived in the town a little before the fall of night. His cottage was near the very ground where the pavilion had been erected before for the conference. Yajnyawalkya stepped out of the cottage to look at the place.
There was no trace of the chaotic arguments and counter -arguments, no trace of the clash of dissonant minds. The simple, unsought, unperceived soul of the night was rejoicing in its own harmony like a woman singing to herself. For a few moments Yajnyawalkya yielded to the soothing, bewitching music of the night. He envied the simple faith of the Vedic hymns, the faith unsullied by the reprimanding voice of reason. That spirit invaded his being and brought to rest the vibrant chords of the thinking mind. There was no one to be seen, none to be heard. All sounds had merged into the haunting drone of the cricket. The sky seemed to invade the earth and make it a part of itself. What did it matter if there was none to hear and none to see! What did it matter if someone were to disprove the reality of it all in the harsh light of the day? The spirit of the night will continue to sing alone, without another!
The cryptic message of the sages echoed in his mind silently, “All this verily is Brahma; this is what truth is!”
The infinity pervaded his being and absorbed him. It seemed to lift him above himself. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere. Something there was which seemed to nullify everything about his identity. It spoke to him in a voice that was not distinct from himself: “You are! You are real! Nothing else is more real than you! You are “That”, the lotus in the midst of water, untouched by water. How can you die, unless this infinity, this eternity permits you to? You will not die, because Brahman, which holds you like a lotus, does not die! This is no symposium where truth is bandied about like a ware in the marketplace. Yajnyawalkya, arise, and be witness to the miracle of eternity that surrounds you. Do not argue; surrender to its all-encompassing reality! Who, if not I, is the knower of it all?”
The tranquil night surrounded him like an ocean of consciousness. He felt a deep groan, a mournful whisper, in that tranquility. It was the sound of eternity, mourning for the soul of its child, separated from it.
The silence of the night brought back the memory of the tempestuous arguments and debates that had preceded in the vicinity of this very courtyard a few days ago. The tranquil music of this night erased all those mythical arguments and the entities behind those arguments, like a screen of smoke. The night seemed to reveal the soul of it all. The real seemed to be unreal, and that which was not perceived during those debates, could be seen as reflections cast in water: Gargi, Shakalya, Artabhaga: all of them were there in the ethereal time and space. They were all there in search of Reality, the Brahma! What did they realize? Each one remained an isolated mind, unable to catch a glimpse of what they were seeking.
By a quirk of fate Yajnyawalkya had landed again in Videha. He arrived in the town a little before the fall of night. His cottage was near the very ground where the pavilion had been erected before for the conference. Yajnyawalkya stepped out of the cottage to look at the place.
There was no trace of the chaotic arguments and counter -arguments, no trace of the clash of dissonant minds. The simple, unsought, unperceived soul of the night was rejoicing in its own harmony like a woman singing to herself. For a few moments Yajnyawalkya yielded to the soothing, bewitching music of the night. He envied the simple faith of the Vedic hymns, the faith unsullied by the reprimanding voice of reason. That spirit invaded his being and brought to rest the vibrant chords of the thinking mind. There was no one to be seen, none to be heard. All sounds had merged into the haunting drone of the cricket. The sky seemed to invade the earth and make it a part of itself. What did it matter if there was none to hear and none to see! What did it matter if someone were to disprove the reality of it all in the harsh light of the day? The spirit of the night will continue to sing alone, without another!
The cryptic message of the sages echoed in his mind silently, “All this verily is Brahma; this is what truth is!”
The infinity pervaded his being and absorbed him. It seemed to lift him above himself. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere. Something there was which seemed to nullify everything about his identity. It spoke to him in a voice that was not distinct from himself: “You are! You are real! Nothing else is more real than you! You are “That”, the lotus in the midst of water, untouched by water. How can you die, unless this infinity, this eternity permits you to? You will not die, because Brahman, which holds you like a lotus, does not die! This is no symposium where truth is bandied about like a ware in the marketplace. Yajnyawalkya, arise, and be witness to the miracle of eternity that surrounds you. Do not argue; surrender to its all-encompassing reality! Who, if not I, is the knower of it all?”
The tranquil night surrounded him like an ocean of consciousness. He felt a deep groan, a mournful whisper, in that tranquility. It was the sound of eternity, mourning for the soul of its child, separated from it.
The silence of the night brought back the memory of the tempestuous arguments and debates that had preceded in the vicinity of this very courtyard a few days ago. The tranquil music of this night erased all those mythical arguments and the entities behind those arguments, like a screen of smoke. The night seemed to reveal the soul of it all. The real seemed to be unreal, and that which was not perceived during those debates, could be seen as reflections cast in water: Gargi, Shakalya, Artabhaga: all of them were there in the ethereal time and space. They were all there in search of Reality, the Brahma! What did they realize? Each one remained an isolated mind, unable to catch a glimpse of what they were seeking.
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