Artabhaga was farthest away now from Yajnyawalkya’s hermitage. He
set out once again on his aimless search. His feet seemed to have a
mind and a heart of their own. He trusted them to lead him to wherever
his temporary destination was.
There were sojourns at nights, daybreaks and evenings. He could not
forget the hermitage and its world of absence—the absence of
Yajnyawalkya. It haunted him. He carried it within himself like the
smell of incense that burnt silently.
Years had gone by since Shakalya’s death, but he could not separate his
knowledge of Yajnyawalkya from the knowledge of Shaklya. They had
become two inseparable faces of the same reality. However, the fact
remained that while one had vanished behind the curtain of time, the
other half was still there; inaccessible, living, but living and breathing
in, and sharing the same world with Artabhaga.
The words of Maitreyi kept echoing incessantly in his heart as he
thought of his obsession for Shakalya and Yajnyawalkya.
“Don’t expend yourself running after a mirage. Try to see the one
inside you who is asking the question. That one alone has the answer to
your question,” she had said.
Time and again Artabhaga had spent solitary hours seeking an answer
within his own self, every time encountering nothing but darkness.
Years had gone by, but he could not overcome the restlessness.
He knew now that another fateful meeting with Yajnyawalkya was in
store for him. All the paths were now inevitably leading him once again
to Videha, ‘the Disembodied State’ where Yajnyawalkya dwelt.
……………….
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Artabhaga reached Videha at dusk. It was here: in this ‘Disembodied
State’: Videha: that way back in time, several destinies had begun to
unfold, with several questions as yet unanswered. Were the
undiscovered answers going to float in the vast ocean of universal
memory? Artabhaga recalled the words of Maitreyi: “Does your life
depend upon the answer to your question?”
Artabhaga felt sad at having left behind a legacy of unresolved grief in
Maitreyi’s heart. He felt, he had unknowingly made her shrink like a
flower that withdraws from the hand that tries to force open its petals.
Artabhaga was weary of himself and the world. He knew well that a
confused mind must suspend judgment. How emancipating it would be
if he could cast off his questions which had brought him here to Videha
once again! This confusion had not let him choose and grasp his own
destiny.
A sacrificial fire that knew no extinction! Artabhaga saw with his
mind’s eye that Shakalya had not chosen his destiny; he had chosen a
way to die. Destiny makes sense when there is a life to live. Artabhaga
wanted to live; he needed a light on the path. And that was what had
brought him to Videha. The mystery of Shakalya—Yajnayawalkya had
taken him far away from his precious self which was yearning for light.
Why did he drag his self along the endless labyrinth of darkness when
it wanted to embrace light? Was it in love or in dread that he was led to
tie his life in a knot to the memory of Shakalya?
172