215. Katha Sarit Sagara : Chapter 5
The Curse of the Cosmic Whisperer: The Saga of Vararuchi
The sage Vararuchi, whose very name meant “one who delighted in the best,” sat upon a cold slab of rock in the heart of the Vindhya forest. Before him sat Kanabhuti, his friend, whose eyes held the weary knowledge of ages, a man whose cursed form was a mere shadow of his true self. The air was still and ancient, thick with the scent of wild jasmine and unspoken destinies. Vararuchi, the celestial Whisperer returned to mortal form, had a story to tell—the saga of a minister, a king, and the terrible price of forgotten virtue.
“Kanabhuti, my friend,” Vararuchi began, his voice a low, melodic rumble that seemed to travel through the roots of the trees, “I will now unspool the tapestry of my last human life, a life woven with the gold of wisdom and the black thread of tragedy. Listen closely, for in this tale lies the key to your own deliverance.”
Part 1: The Minister’s Burden and the Price of Power
1. King Yogananda’s Decline
“I once served the capital of Pataliputra, under a king named Yogananda,” Vararuchi recounted, his gaze distant. “He was, in the beginning, a just monarch, sharp and focused, worthy of the massive kingdom he commanded. But tell me, Kanabhuti, what poison is more swift and complete than the draught of unearned, endless prosperity? The King tasted it, and his soul soured.”
Vararuchi shook his head slowly. “In time, he became a slave to his own appetites, his every passing fancy transformed instantly into law. Like a mad elephant, he disregarded every restraint. He gorged on luxury, ignoring the groans of his people and the counsel of his court. He began to believe that his will, his whim, was the only law in the universe.”
“His spirit, once regal, became bloated and childish,” Vararuchi lamented. “I watched him fall, and I realized a terrible truth: Whom will not the sudden, blinding light of prosperity intoxicate? The gods test us most severely not with poverty, but with abundance.”
2. Vararuchi’s Strategy
“As the King drifted further from righteousness, my own soul suffered,” Vararuchi admitted. “My mind, which longed for contemplation, was constantly consumed by managing Yogananda’s endless errors. My own religious duties, my sacred rites, were neglected, interfered with by my desperate care for his chaotic affairs. I was forced to neglect the eternal for the temporary, the spiritual for the political.”
He tapped a finger thoughtfully on the stone. “I recognized that I could not serve both my dharma and this dissolute king indefinitely. A drastic action was needed to either steady the ship or force my own escape. I reflected deeply. I needed a counterweight, a minister of immense power and cold logic who could share this impossible burden, and perhaps, eventually, relieve me of it entirely.”
3. The Two Ministers
“The answer was a man named Sakatala,” Vararuchi announced, the name tasting sharp on his tongue. “He was a former minister, unjustly imprisoned by Yogananda years before—a man I knew to be ruthless but brilliant. I decided it was time to retrieve him from his deep dungeon.”
Vararuchi mused aloud, “My reasoning was simple: ‘The King has burst all bonds. I must be free. I will draw out that Sakatala and make him my colleague in the ministry. Even if he tries to oppose me, what harm can he do as long as I am securely in office? His vengeance is focused on the King, not me.’ Having resolved on this, I obtained a weary, uninterested permission from Yogananda and went to the prison.”
“I led Sakatala out of the gloom and into the harsh light of day. He was frail, starved, and covered in the dust of the underworld, but his eyes were the hardest things I had ever seen. They held a promise of retribution so fierce it chilled me. Yet, a Brahman is always taught soft-heartedness. The discreet Sakatala made up his mind that it would be difficult to overthrow Yogananda as long as I was in office.”
“So, he adopted the guise of humility. He knew better than to strike too soon. He decided he must imitate the cane which bends with the current, and watch a favorable moment for vengeance. He accepted my request, resumed the office of minister, and began to manage the King’s affairs with a terrifying, surgical efficiency.”
4. The Riddle of the Hand
Life in court resumed, Sakatala serving with a chilling competence, and Vararuchi matching him in wisdom. Then, one bright morning, the bizarre occurred.
“Yogananda went outside the city to perform a minor ritual on the riverbank,” Vararuchi recalled. “He stood gazing at the fast-moving water of the Ganges when he cried out, pointing with a shaking hand. In the middle of the river, a disembodied hand rose from the current, its five fingers closely pressed together. It was a terrifying omen, a silent question from the deep.”
The King instantly summoned me, his voice thin with terror. “Vararuchi! What does this mean? What mystery does the river hold?”
I did not answer immediately. Instead, I raised my own hand and displayed only two of my fingers in the direction of the water-borne hand. As if in response to a silent command, that hand instantly disappeared.
The King, exceedingly astonished, again demanded the meaning. I bowed slightly. “Your Majesty, that hand was not a mere apparition; it was a cosmic query. By showing its five fingers, it meant to ask, ‘What cannot five men united effect in this world?’ It spoke of the power of unity, the strength of a common purpose.”
“And your response?” the King urged.
“I, King, showed it these two fingers, wishing to indicate that nothing is impossible when even two men are of one mind. The power of focused intellect and will is greater than the brute force of many.”
The King was delighted by my solution. But Sakatala, who had witnessed the exchange, looked troubled. He was despondent, seeing that my intellect would be difficult to circumvent. My wit was a living shield, and he knew he could not risk striking at the King while I stood at his side.
5. The King’s Rash Judgment
The King’s moral rot soon deepened. One day, Yogananda saw his Queen standing at a window, talking and laughing with a Bráhman guest who was looking up from the garden below. It was a fleeting, innocent exchange, yet the spark of suspicion became a bonfire in the King’s undisciplined heart.
“He was thrown into a passion, a consuming, green-eyed frenzy,” Vararuchi described, his tone sharp. “He did not question the Queen, nor the Bráhman. He merely issued a terrible order: The Brahman should be put to death!”
I stepped forward to intervene, but the King shouted me down. “No words, Minister! Let him die! Jealousy interferes with discernment! It clouds the mind and demands a sacrifice! My honour has been threatened, and blood must be spilled!”
6. The Dead Fish’s Laughter
As the condemned Bráhman, bewildered and terrified, was led off to the place of execution, a crowd followed. The procession passed through the market, and there, the universe interceded in the strangest possible way.
A fish in the market, though clearly dead, laughed aloud.
It was not a gurgle or a flop, but a recognizable, booming, derisive sound of human laughter that echoed off the stalls. The executioner faltered. The King, hearing the impossible sound even from a distance, was seized by dread.
“He immediately prohibited, for the present, the execution of that Bráhman,” Vararuchi explained. “The sheer strangeness of the act broke through his jealousy.”
The King summoned me, his face a mask of confusion. “Vararuchi, what horror is this? Ask me not for time, but tell me instantly: Why did the fish laugh?”
I replied that I would tell him after I had thought over the matter, and I withdrew to contemplate the mystery.
7. The Rakshasa’s Secret
“I needed more than logic; I needed divine intervention,” Vararuchi confessed. “I focused my mind on the Goddess Sarasvati, the muse of my wisdom, and she came to me secretly. Her form was blinding, a vision of pure, white grace and knowledge. She gave me this solemn advice: ‘Take up a position on the top of this palm tree at night so as not to be observed, and thou shalt without doubt hear the reason why the fish laughed.’”
I followed her instruction precisely. I went at night to that very place, near the Queen’s private garden, and ensconced myself on the top of the tall palm tree, hidden among the dark fronds.
Shortly after, I saw a terrible figure: a female Rakshasa, a demoness of terrifying stature, coming past with her children. They were hungry, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
“Mother, we starve! Give us food!” they demanded, their voices raspy and inhuman.
“Wait,” she commanded. “And I will give you tomorrow morning the flesh of a Bráhman. He was not killed today.”
“Why was he not killed today?” the sons asked, disappointed.
The demoness replied, “He was not executed because a dead fish in the town laughed when it saw him.”
“But why did the fish laugh, Mother?”
The Rakshasa paused, a terrible, rasping laugh escaping her own throat. “The fish of course said to himself: ‘All the king’s wives are dissolute, for in every part of this harem there are men dressed up as women! These creatures are allowed to pass freely, and yet, while they escape, an innocent Bráhman is to be put to death!’ And this thought tickled the fish so much that he laughed!”
Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial snarl. “For we demons assume these disguises, insinuating ourselves into everything, and laughing at the exceeding want of discernment of kings!”
8. Vararuchi’s Vindication
After the demons had vanished, I descended from the tree and went straight to the palace. In the morning, I informed the King exactly why the fish had laughed.
“Yogananda, his face ashen, ordered an immediate sweep of his private quarters. He detected, within his very harem, those men clothed as women—demons in disguise, and other unsavory characters who had infiltrated his house through his own neglect.”
“The sight of the deception horrified and humbled him. He looked upon me with great respect, recognizing my divine insight and the magnitude of his error. He immediately released that Bráhman from the sentence of death. My wisdom had saved an innocent man and cleansed the royal house, but my spirit was wounded by the sheer, corrupt foolishness of the King.”
Part 2: The Conspiracy and the King’s Curse
9. The Queen’s Mole
“I was utterly disgusted by seeing this and other lawless proceedings on the part of the King,” Vararuchi stated, his tone flat with exhaustion. “While I was in this frame of mind, longing for release from his service, a new painter came to court.”
This man was an artist of unparalleled skill. He painted on a sheet of canvas the King and the principal Queen. The painting was a marvel—it looked so much as if it were alive that it only lacked speech and motion. The delighted King loaded the painter with wealth and had the canvas set up on a wall in his most private apartments.
“Now, one day when I entered the King’s private apartments, my eye, trained in the sacred texts of auspicious marks, fell upon the Queen’s painted likeness,” Vararuchi explained. “I saw that the painting did not represent all her auspicious marks. From the arrangement of the other marks, I conjectured, by means of my acuteness, that there ought to be a spot where the girdle comes—a small, hidden mole, a mark of great fortune.”
“I took up a brush and, with a single, precise stroke, I painted one there.”
10. The King’s False Accusation
“I departed, satisfied that I had thus completed the Queen’s lucky marks,” Vararuchi said. “But when Yogananda entered and saw that painted spot, his face went white, then crimson.”
He called his chamberlains. “Who painted this spot? Tell me now!”
They indicated me. Yogananda, already paranoid and insecure, began to burn with an unfounded, irrational rage.
He paced, muttering his terrifying reflection: “No one except myself knows of that spot! It is in a part of the Queen’s body usually concealed! Then how can this Vararuchi have come thus to know it?”
The King’s diseased mind supplied the cruel answer: “No doubt he has secretly corrupted my harem, and this is how he came to see there those men disguised as women! He is not a sage, but a scoundrel!”
“Foolish men often find such coincidences to feed their fears,” Vararuchi sighed, the memory still stinging.
11. Sakatala’s Second Deception
Burning with his baseless suspicion, the King summoned Sakatala, the one minister he now felt he could trust to act without question.
“You must put Vararuchi to death for seducing the Queen!” Yogananda snarled, his eyes wild.
Sakatala bowed low, his face expressionless. “Your Majesty’s orders shall be executed.”
But as he left the palace, the coil of vengeance tightened in his heart. “I should not have power to put Vararuchi to death, for he possesses godlike force of intellect,” Sakatala mused. “And he delivered me from calamity! Moreover, he is a Brahman! Therefore, I had better hide him and win him over to my side, for he will be an unparalleled weapon against the King!”
Sakatala came to me and told me of the King’s causeless wrath. “I will have someone else put to death in order that the news may get abroad,” he concluded. “And do you remain hidden in my house to protect me from this passionate king!”
In accordance with his proposal, I remained concealed. Sakatala had a condemned criminal executed at night, ensuring the report of my death was spread across the city.
12. Vararuchi’s Godly Allies
“When he had in this way displayed his cunning statecraft, I felt a genuine flicker of affection for him,” Vararuchi admitted. “I decided to show him the full extent of the power he had allied himself with. I said, ‘You have shown yourself an unrivalled minister, for you did not attempt to put me to death. For I cannot be slain, since I have a Rakshasa to friend! He will come, on being only thought of, and at my request will devour the whole world! Besides, this King is a friend of mine, being a Brahman named Indradatta, and he ought not to be slain.’”
Sakatala, his face pale, whispered, “Shew me the Rakshasa.”
I did. With a single thought, the terrible, shadow-consuming form of the demon appeared, filling the small room with a chilling, sulfurous heat. Sakatala was astonished and terrified.
When the Rakshasa disappeared, Sakatala, sweat pouring from him, asked, “How did the Rakshasa become your friend?”
I told him the story of the midnight patrol, years ago, when the demon had accosted me: “Tell me, who is considered the best-looking woman in this city?”
“I burst out laughing,” I recounted. “I said, ‘You fool, any woman is good-looking to the man who admires her!’”
The demon, defeated by the wisdom of the answer, had proclaimed, “You are the only man that has beaten me! Henceforth you are my friend, and I will appear to you when you call me to mind.”
“Thus the Rakshasa has become my friend, and my ally in trouble,” I concluded.
“I also showed him the Goddess of the Ganges in human form, who came when I thought of her. That Goddess disappeared when she had been gratified by my hymns of praise. Sakatala became from thenceforth my obedient ally. He saw that I was a force of nature, a friend too potent to be anything but served.”
Part 3: The Story of Sivavarman (A Minister’s Wisdom)
13. The Tale of the Wise Minister
My state of confinement weighed heavily upon my spirits. My mind, used to the expansive truths of the cosmos, chafed at the necessity of hiding in a minister’s house, reduced to a mere pawn.
Sakatala, ever the keen observer, noticed my gloom. “Why do you, although you know all things, abandon yourself to despondency?” he asked. “Do you not know that the minds of kings are most undiscerning? In a short time, you will be cleared from all imputations.”
To prove his point, he began a tale: “The story of Sivavarman.”
14. Aditya varman’s Betrayal
“There reigned here long ago a king named Adityavarman, and he had a very wise minister, also a Brahman, named Sivavarman,” Sakatala began, settling back. “It came to pass that one of that King’s Queens became pregnant. Adityavarman, suspicious, gathered his guards. ‘It is now two years since I entered this place! Then how has this Queen become pregnant? Tell me!’”
“They whispered the only possibility: ‘No man except your minister Sivavarman is allowed to enter here, but he enters without any restriction.’”
“When the King heard that, he instantly assumed treason. Yet, he thought, ‘If I put him to death publicly, I shall incur terrible reproach.’ So, that King sent Sivavarman on some pretext to Bhogavarman, a neighboring chief and ally. Immediately afterward, the King secretly sent off a messenger to the same chief, bearing a letter which ordered him to put the minister to death.”
15. The Truth and the Curse
“A week had elapsed after the minister’s departure,” Sakatala continued, drawing out the suspense. “Then, that Queen, trying to escape out of fear, was taken by the guards, not alone, but with a man in woman’s attire!”
“When Adityavarman heard of it, he was filled with profound remorse. He asked himself, ‘Why have I causelessly brought about the death of so excellent a minister? I have been blinded by circumstance and gossip!’”
“In the meanwhile, Sivavarman reached the court of Bhogavarman. The King’s messenger arrived, bearing the sealed letter. Fate would have it so that after Bhogavarman had read the death warrant, he felt a strange kinship with the wise Brahman. He told Sivavarman in secret the order he had received.”
“The excellent minister, faced with his doom, did the unexpected. He said to the chief, ‘Put me to death. If you do not, I will slay myself with my own hand.’”
Bhogavarman was filled with wonder. “What does this mean, Brahman? Tell me! If you do not, you will lie under my curse!”
The minister’s reply was chillingly absolute. “King, in whatever land I am slain, on that land God will not send rain for twelve years.”
16. Innocence Established
“Bhogavarman debated with his minister. ‘That wicked King Adityavarman desires the destruction of our land! Why would he not have employed secret assassins to kill his minister? We must not put this minister to death, and we must prevent him from laying violent hands on himself!’”
“Having thus deliberated and appointed him guards, Bhogavarman sent Sivavarman out of his country that very moment.”
“So, that minister, by means of his wisdom, returned alive. And his innocence, revealed by the capture of the Queen’s lover, was established for all to see. Righteousness cannot be undone.”
“In the same way, your innocence will be made clear, Katyayana,” Sakatala concluded, his voice soft. “Remain for a while in my house. This King, too, will repent of what he has done.”
Part 4: The King’s Grief and Vararuchi’s Return
17. The Bear and the Betrayer
I spent the next period in anxious concealment, trusting Sakatala’s prediction.
“Then it came to pass,” Vararuchi narrated, his voice gaining urgency, “that one day, Hiranyagupta, a son of Yogananda, went out hunting. Carried to a great distance by the speed of his horse, he found himself alone in the deep wood as the day ended. To escape predators, he ascended a tall tree to pass the night.”
“Immediately afterwards, a great bear, terrified by a lion, ascended the same tree. Seeing the prince frightened, the bear said to him with a human voice, ‘Fear not, thou art my friend,’ and thus promised him immunity from harm. The prince, confiding in the bear’s solemn promise, went to sleep, while the bear remained awake as the faithful sentinel.”
“The lion below called up to the bear. ‘Bear, throw me down this man, and I will go away.’”
“The bear replied, ‘Villain, I will not cause the death of a friend!’”
“In course of time, the bear, weary from the chase, went to sleep while the prince was awake. The lion called up again, his voice like the grinding of stone: ‘Man, throw me down the bear.’”
“When he heard that, the prince, who through fear for his own safety wished to propitiate the lion, tried to throw down the bear. But wonderful to say, it did not fall, since Fate caused it to awake.”
18. Vararuchi’s Recall
“That bear looked at the prince, betrayal burning in his eyes,” Vararuchi whispered, the drama palpable. “He laid upon him a curse: ‘Become insane, thou betrayer of thy friend!’ The curse was destined not to end until a third person guessed the whole transaction.”
“Accordingly, the prince, when he reached his palace in the morning, went out of his mind, babbling incoherent horrors. Yogananda, seeing his son’s madness, was immediately plunged into a crushing despondency.”
He wailed, pacing his private chambers, tearing at his hair. “If Vararuchi were alive at this moment, all this matter would be known! Curse on my readiness to have him put to death!”
“Sakatala, who had been waiting for precisely this moment, thought to himself, ‘Ha! Here is an opportunity obtained for bringing Katyayana out of concealment! He, being a proud man, will not remain here after this, and the King will repose absolute confidence in me!’”
“After reflecting thus, he implored pardon, falling to the floor before the King. He said, ‘O King, cease from despondency! Vararuchi remains alive!’”
19. The Riddle Solved
“Let him be brought quickly!” the King screamed, his voice strained with desperate hope.
I was suddenly brought by Sakatala into the presence of Yogananda. I beheld the prince in his state of terrible affliction. By the favour of Sarasvati, my divine insight returned fully, and I was enabled to reveal the whole occurrence.
I stepped forward and, addressing the King, pronounced the simple, powerful truth that broke the curse: “King, he has proved a traitor to his friend.”
Immediately, the madness lifted. The prince, delivered from his curse, praised me profusely. The King, overcome with relief and awe, asked me how I had managed to find out what had taken place.
20. Vararuchi’s Departure
“I spoke with a weary honesty that shamed him,” Vararuchi recalled. “I said, ‘King, the minds of the wise see everything by inference from signs, and by acuteness of intellect. So I found out all this in the same way as I found out that mole.’ When I had said this, that King was afflicted with shame.”
“He offered me munificence—gifts of gold, land, and power. I refused it all. I considered myself to have gained all I desired by the clearing of my reputation. I needed nothing else from him.”
“I went home: for to the wise, character is wealth. My integrity was restored, and that was the only coin I cared to hold.”
21. Loss and Renunciation
“But fate is a cruel, cunning weaver, Kanabhuti,” Vararuchi murmured, his voice cracking with ancient pain. “The moment I arrived, the servants of my house wept before me.”
My brother, Upavarsha, came to me, his face grim. “Vararuchi, Upakosa, when she heard that the King had put you to death, committed her body to the flames. And then your mother’s heart, unable to bear the loss of both son and daughter-in-law, broke with grief.”
“Hearing that, senseless with the distraction produced by my recently aroused grief, I suddenly fell on the ground like a tree broken by the wind,” Vararuchi confessed. “In a moment I tasted the relief of loud lamentations. Whom will not the fire of grief, produced by the loss of dear relations, scorch?”
“Upavarsha came to me and gave me sound advice, saying, ‘The only thing that is stable in this ever-changeful world is instability. Then why are you distracted though you know this delusion of the Creator?’”
“By the help of these and similar exhortations, I at length, though with difficulty, regained my equanimity. Then, with heart disgusted with the world, I flung aside all earthly lords, and choosing self-restraint for my only companion, I went to a grove where asceticism was practiced. I would serve only the Absolute.”
Part 5: Sakatala’s Vengeance and Final Words
22. The New Player: Chanakya
“As I sat in the grove, devoting my days to austere practice, a Brahman from Ayodhya came to visit,” Vararuchi continued. “I asked him for tidings about Yogananda’s government. Recognizing me, he told me in sorrowful accents what had happened.”
“Sakatala, after waiting for it a long time, found that he had now obtained the perfect opportunity of injuring the King. While thinking how he might by some device get Yogananda killed, he happened to see a Brahman named Chanakya digging up the earth in his path. Sakatala asked, ‘Why are you digging up the earth?’”
“The Brahman, whom he had asked, said, ‘I am rooting up a plant of darbha grass here, because it has pricked my foot.’”
Sakatala’s inner thought was instant and decisive: That Brahman, who formed such stern resolves out of anger over a mere prick of grass, would be the best instrument to destroy Nanda with!
Sakatala asked his name, then made a proposition: “Brahman, I assign to you the duty of presiding at a shraddha (ritual feast) in the house of King Nanda. You shall have one hundred thousand gold pieces as a fee, and you shall sit at the board above all others. In the meanwhile, come to my house.”
23. The Insult at the Feast
Sakatala took Chanakya to his house, nurturing his resentment. On the day of the shraddha, he showed the Brahman to King Nanda, who approved of him.
Chanakya went and sat at the head of the table. But another Brahman, named Subandhu, desired that post of honour for himself. Sakatala, playing his part perfectly, went and referred the matter to King Nanda.
The King, still foolish and swayed by whim, answered, “Let Subandhu sit at the head of the table, no one else deserves the place!”
24. Chanakya’s Vow of Destruction
Sakatala, feigning humility and fear, communicated that order to Chanakya, adding, “It is not my fault.”
Chanakya, being, as it were, inflamed all over with wrath, stood up. He undid the lock of hair on the crown of his head, letting the long, oily braid fall free—a sign of the direst vow.
He made this solemn oath: “Surely this Nanda must be destroyed by me within seven days, and then my anger being appeased, I will bind up my lock!”
When he had said this, Yogananda was enraged and ordered his capture, but Chanakya escaped, unobserved. Sakatala gave him refuge in his house once more.
25. Nanda’s Downfall and The New King
“Being supplied by Sakatala with the necessary instruments, that Brahman Chanakya went somewhere and performed a potent, terrible magic rite,” Vararuchi whispered, the memory of the black sorcery chilling him even in the serene forest.
“In consequence of this rite, Yogananda caught a burning fever, and died when the seventh day arrived!”
“And Sakatala, having wreaked his vengeance, did not stop there. He slew Nanda’s son, Hiranyagupta, ensuring the old line was extinguished. He then bestowed the royal dignity upon Chandragupta, a son of the previous Nanda.”
“He had requested Chanakya, a man equal in ability to the divine preceptor Brihaspati, to be Chandragupta’s prime minister, and established him in the office. With his objectives accomplished—his vengeance on Yogananda wreaked—Sakatala, despondent through sorrow for the death of his own sons, retired to the forest.”
26. Vararuchi’s Peace
“After I had heard all this,” Vararuchi said, the last vestiges of his earthly attachments dissolving in the telling, “I became exceedingly afflicted, seeing that all things—even the mightiest thrones and deepest friendships—are unstable.”
“On account of my affliction, and seeking an answer to the eternal questions, I came to visit this shrine of Durga. And through her favour, having beheld you, O my friend Kanabhuti, I have remembered my former birth!”
27. The Final Prophecy
Vararuchi’s eyes now shone with an unearthly light, the glow of his celestial self returning. “And having obtained divine discernment, I have told you the great tale. Now, as my curse has spent its strength, I will strive to leave the body.”
He looked at Kanabhuti, his voice ringing with prophecy. “And do you remain here for the present, until there comes to you a Brahman named Gunadhya, who has forsaken the use of three languages. He will be surrounded with his pupils. For he, like myself, was cursed by the goddess in anger, being an excellent attendant of Siva, Malyavan by name, who for taking my part has become a mortal.”
“To him you must tell this tale originally told by Siva. Then you shall be delivered from your curse, and so shall he.”
28. Testing the Hermit
Having said all this to Kanabhuti, Vararuchi set forth for the holy hermitage of Badarika in order to put off his mortal body.
As he was going along, he beheld on the banks of the Ganges a vegetable-eating hermit, one who practiced extreme austerity. Vararuchi stopped to look on as the hermit’s hand was accidentally pricked with a sharp blade of kusha grass.
“Then Vararuchi turned his blood, as it flowed out, into a rich, sweet sap through his magic power, out of curiosity, in order to test his egotism,” the sage explained.
On beholding that miracle—his blood turning to the life-giving essence of a plant—the hermit exclaimed, “Ha! I have attained perfection!” He became instantly puffed up with pride.
Vararuchi laughed a little. “He had failed the final test. I said to him, ‘I turned your blood into sap in order to test you, because even now, O hermit, you have not abandoned egotism! Egotism is in truth an obstacle in the road to knowledge, hard to overcome, and without knowledge, liberation canno
“‘The perishable joys of paradise cannot attract the hearts of those who long for liberation. Therefore, O hermit, endeavour to acquire knowledge by forsaking egotism.’ Having thus read that hermit a lesson, and having been praised by him prostrate in adoration, Vararuchi went to the tranquil site of the hermitage of Bad
29. Ascension to Heaven
“There,” Vararuchi concluded, his eyes shining with pure spiritual intensity, “desirous of putting off his mortal condition, he resorted for protection with intense devotion to that Goddess who only can protect.”
“She, manifesting her real form to him, told him the secret of that meditation which arises from fire—the Yoga of the final consumption of the self. Then Vararuchi, having consumed his body by that form of meditation, reached his own heavenly home.”
“And henceforth, Kanabhuti, our paths diverge for a time, but only that they may reunite in the eternal. Remain here, my friend, and wait for Gunadhya.”
