Chapter 19
There was a message from Janaka for Yajnyawalkya to come and see him. Yajnyawalkya was getting ready to go, but before he had stepped out of the cottage he was surprised to find Janaka at the entrance of the cottage.
Monsoon had just set in. Janaka's attendants had followed him with an umbrella because he had chosen to walk down to this place. He sent them back and greeted Yajnyawalkya.
Janaka paused to look around. The cottage and its surroundings were a little paradise in themselves. The abundance of flowers, plants, and foliage, proclaimed that no more luxury was needed for life except rich soil, water and the hand of the tiller.
Yajnyawalkya led him in. They sat comfortably leaning against the wall. Janaka began a little uncertainly,
“I do not know if it will please you to know that some of your admirers have approached me for a permission to set up a hermitage here to be able to absorb your ideas.”
Yajnyawalkya remained silent. He saw what was going to materialize out of such a venture: rituals, more rituals, endless injunctions which would be adhered to with a devotional fervor, new scriptures coming into being and then perpetuated in his name by word of mouth: dead, unvibrating words, twisted out of their living context, remote from their intended meaning. Those words would carry his corpse across centuries and epochs, denying to him the possibility of transcending the fixity of words.
He listened to Janaka's words as though to a herald of death. He seemed to hear multitudes of people who had surrendered their minds, repeating only sounds, not words, imitating the sounds and missing the essence.
What he said aloud at that moment was just this: “What we need is not more rituals, but an inquiring mind.”
Janaka paused expectantly in the silence that followed. Then he said,” These are your fellow-beings, Yajnyawalkya. You may find them stupid, ignorant, dense, But they honestly believe that you can enlighten them. Does it not signify awakening?”
With a heavy breath, Yajnyawalkya spoke: “Do not tempt me O king, with this new image of myself.”
Janaka resisted the impulse to argue. Yajnyawalkya let go of himself:
“You had once asked me if it is possible for the mortal to know 'Brahma', the ultimate reality. At each step we confront it and it eludes us. It is there in our eyes, tongue and breath. It is in our breath and in our speech. Our speech indeed is 'That'. Our speech is the bridge between that Primordial Silence and the Primordial Light. But we fossilize speech into words and arrest their life. That is why I fear, people may trust the words and rest at them. They are scared to go beyond words. It is easy to believe in the reality of the word when it is given to you. Because then you can readily appropriate it. How easy it is to use up all your power of thinking, seeing, hearing and speaking in this game of appropriation! You make experience 'a thing ', a finished,
finite object which can be appropriated. Once you do that, you set limit to your Self, limit your growth. And that ends all your freedom, because you become the thing you have appropriated.”
Janaka felt as if he was climbing uphill after Yajnyawalkya. Yajnyawalkya's words echoed in the silence. Janaka knew, they would echo in his mind too, long after.
Yajnyawalkya paused. He was getting ensnared by the sound of his own words. They sounded to him like incantations. What he uttered, there and then, had been carried across and into the heart of another, and had found its home there. He wondered whether words, without the living presence of the speaker, would accomplish the same effect, like a bird winging the sky to alight and rest in its home.
Janaka felt he had delved into the heart of loneliness. He could not bear to see this man succumb to the overwhelming feeling of futility that threatened to swallow him. He knew, his own words were going to sound superficial after this, but still, he must make an effort. Placing a hand on Yajnyawalkya's shoulder, he said,
“I know, you don't want to be a law-giver, even though that is what probably the world is going to make out of you. But in some hearts you may find a home as a friend who attempted to find the path. That's a promise enough and a reward enough, although I know, you don't care for a reward. I know you don't want your words to arrest the flow of knowledge. You want them to set the minds free. But I beseech you, speak, whether you are heard aright or not, speak! Perhaps someone may quarrel with you, some may agree with you, though the majority will be content to make laws out of quarrels and concords”
Yajnyawalkya grasped Janaka's hand in gratitude. Janaka left without ceremony.
Yajnyawalkya looked up at the sky because he heard a distant rumble. The sky was overcast by a dense shadow that was soon going to descend on earth. As he looked at Janaka walking briskly towards the palace, the cloud melted into a shower and drenched Janaka. But Janaka walked ahead without looking back and without bothering for a shelter. Yajnyawalkya watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
There was a message from Janaka for Yajnyawalkya to come and see him. Yajnyawalkya was getting ready to go, but before he had stepped out of the cottage he was surprised to find Janaka at the entrance of the cottage.
Monsoon had just set in. Janaka's attendants had followed him with an umbrella because he had chosen to walk down to this place. He sent them back and greeted Yajnyawalkya.
Janaka paused to look around. The cottage and its surroundings were a little paradise in themselves. The abundance of flowers, plants, and foliage, proclaimed that no more luxury was needed for life except rich soil, water and the hand of the tiller.
Yajnyawalkya led him in. They sat comfortably leaning against the wall. Janaka began a little uncertainly,
“I do not know if it will please you to know that some of your admirers have approached me for a permission to set up a hermitage here to be able to absorb your ideas.”
Yajnyawalkya remained silent. He saw what was going to materialize out of such a venture: rituals, more rituals, endless injunctions which would be adhered to with a devotional fervor, new scriptures coming into being and then perpetuated in his name by word of mouth: dead, unvibrating words, twisted out of their living context, remote from their intended meaning. Those words would carry his corpse across centuries and epochs, denying to him the possibility of transcending the fixity of words.
He listened to Janaka's words as though to a herald of death. He seemed to hear multitudes of people who had surrendered their minds, repeating only sounds, not words, imitating the sounds and missing the essence.
What he said aloud at that moment was just this: “What we need is not more rituals, but an inquiring mind.”
Janaka paused expectantly in the silence that followed. Then he said,” These are your fellow-beings, Yajnyawalkya. You may find them stupid, ignorant, dense, But they honestly believe that you can enlighten them. Does it not signify awakening?”
With a heavy breath, Yajnyawalkya spoke: “Do not tempt me O king, with this new image of myself.”
Janaka resisted the impulse to argue. Yajnyawalkya let go of himself:
“You had once asked me if it is possible for the mortal to know 'Brahma', the ultimate reality. At each step we confront it and it eludes us. It is there in our eyes, tongue and breath. It is in our breath and in our speech. Our speech indeed is 'That'. Our speech is the bridge between that Primordial Silence and the Primordial Light. But we fossilize speech into words and arrest their life. That is why I fear, people may trust the words and rest at them. They are scared to go beyond words. It is easy to believe in the reality of the word when it is given to you. Because then you can readily appropriate it. How easy it is to use up all your power of thinking, seeing, hearing and speaking in this game of appropriation! You make experience 'a thing ', a finished,
finite object which can be appropriated. Once you do that, you set limit to your Self, limit your growth. And that ends all your freedom, because you become the thing you have appropriated.”
Janaka felt as if he was climbing uphill after Yajnyawalkya. Yajnyawalkya's words echoed in the silence. Janaka knew, they would echo in his mind too, long after.
Yajnyawalkya paused. He was getting ensnared by the sound of his own words. They sounded to him like incantations. What he uttered, there and then, had been carried across and into the heart of another, and had found its home there. He wondered whether words, without the living presence of the speaker, would accomplish the same effect, like a bird winging the sky to alight and rest in its home.
Janaka felt he had delved into the heart of loneliness. He could not bear to see this man succumb to the overwhelming feeling of futility that threatened to swallow him. He knew, his own words were going to sound superficial after this, but still, he must make an effort. Placing a hand on Yajnyawalkya's shoulder, he said,
“I know, you don't want to be a law-giver, even though that is what probably the world is going to make out of you. But in some hearts you may find a home as a friend who attempted to find the path. That's a promise enough and a reward enough, although I know, you don't care for a reward. I know you don't want your words to arrest the flow of knowledge. You want them to set the minds free. But I beseech you, speak, whether you are heard aright or not, speak! Perhaps someone may quarrel with you, some may agree with you, though the majority will be content to make laws out of quarrels and concords”
Yajnyawalkya grasped Janaka's hand in gratitude. Janaka left without ceremony.
Yajnyawalkya looked up at the sky because he heard a distant rumble. The sky was overcast by a dense shadow that was soon going to descend on earth. As he looked at Janaka walking briskly towards the palace, the cloud melted into a shower and drenched Janaka. But Janaka walked ahead without looking back and without bothering for a shelter. Yajnyawalkya watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
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