novelraw Arc 5 - Tirth-Yatra Parva - Chapter 13 - Aṣṭāvakra’s Wisdom
Arc 5 - Tirth-Yatra Parva - Chapter 13 - Aṣṭāvakra’s Wisdom
Aṣṭāvakra, though young in years yet ancient in wisdom, stood before the warder and declared:
“When no Brahmana is met upon the path,
the road belongs by order to the blind, the deaf,
to women, to burden-bearers, and then to the king.
But if a Brahmana appears, the way is his alone.”
The king, hearing these words, was pleased and answered gently:
“I grant thee passage, child of wisdom. Enter by whichever path thou choosest. Even the smallest fire is not to be scorned, for the mightiest gods bow before the Brahmanas.”
But Aṣṭāvakra pressed further:
“We have come, O son of Indradyumna, to witness thy sacrifice. Our curiosity is great, our intention pure. Yet thy warder bars our path, and his denial burns in us like fever.”
The warder replied sternly, “We obey Vandin’s command. Here only elder Brahmanas, grey with years, may pass. Boys may not enter.”
Then Aṣṭāvakra smiled and answered
“If the door is open only to those deemed old,
then grant me entry, for age is not in years.
We have observed vows, mastered the Veda’s fire,
served our teachers, subdued desire,
and gained the strength of sacred lore.
Despise not the small flame—
a spark may burn the careless hand.”
The warder frowned. “Thou art but a boy. Prove thy claim. Recite, if thou canst, the verse of the One Supreme—composed of but a single letter, manifold in meaning, adored by seers. Many boast, few truly know.”
The boy-sage replied:
“The growth of the body doth not prove age,
as the knotted silk-cotton tree grows vast yet bears no fruit.
That tree alone is ripe which yields its harvest,
not the barren giant that only casts shade.
So too the child who bears wisdom is old,
the hoary fool is but an infant still.”
The warder said, “Boys learn from the old, and only with time do they ripen. How then, being so young, dost thou speak as though thou wert ancient?”
Then Aṣṭāvakra’s voice rang with the certainty of truth:
“Not by grey hair is one made old,
nor by wealth, nor friends, nor length of days.
He alone is venerable who knows the Veda.
Though a child in years, he may be wise as Brahmā;
though bent and aged, without knowledge he is but a babe.”
Raising his chin, he declared,
“Go now, porter. Tell Janaka, lotus-garlanded king, that Aṣṭāvakra seeks entry. I shall meet Vandin in open debate, silence him, and let the assembly bear witness to truth.”
The warder, astonished at such boldness, replied,
“Thou art yet but in thy tenth year. How canst thou hope to enter this sacrifice, where only learned men of ripe age are admitted? Still—I shall attempt some means for thy admittance. Do thou, too, try thine own.”
Then Aṣṭāvakra, fearless though but a boy, addressed king Janaka:
“O king, foremost of thy race, sovereign among men, all power resteth in thee. In ancient times Yayāti was the great sacrificer; in this age it is thou who performest mighty rites. Yet I have heard that Vandin, after vanquishing disputants, causeth them to be drowned by thy servants. Therefore have I come before this assembly, to proclaim the unity of the Supreme, and to silence that braggart as the sun silences the stars. Tell me, where is Vandin, that I may confront him?”
The king replied gravely, “Child, thou hopest to defeat Vandin, not knowing the depth of his speech. Many proud in learning have stood before him and waned like stars before the sun. Brahmanas versed in the Veda have tested him and withdrawn, silent and abashed. Thinkest thou to triumph where the foremost have failed?”
But Aṣṭāvakra’s eyes blazed:
“Never hath Vandin met one such as I.
He struts a lion because he hath fought no lion.
But to-day he shall fall to earth,
like a broken cart whose wheels are loosed.”
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The king, wishing to test him, spake in riddling words:
“What is that which has thirty divisions, twelve parts, twenty-four joints, and three hundred and sixty spokes?”
Aṣṭāvakra replied:
“It is the ever-turning wheel of Time—
thirty days in a month, twelve months in a year,
twenty-four fortnights that pass with waxing and waning,
three hundred and sixty days and nights that complete its circuit.
May that wheel protect thee, O king.”
And Lomasa explained: The boy revealed that the universe itself is bound to the wheel of Time. Days, nights, months, and years are its spokes and joints. As all beings are carried upon this wheel, so too kings must remember their rule is bound by Time’s measure.
Janaka then asked again:
“Who amongst the gods beareth the two that move together like mares yoked to a car, swift as hawks, and what do they bring forth?”
Aṣṭāvakra answered:
“They are Day and Night,
ever yoked together,
racing on the chariot of the Sun,
whose driver is the wind.
From him they are born,
and they in turn give birth to him again.”
And Lomasa explained: Day and night are the eternal twins that carry existence forward. They arise from the Sun and also create the measure of the Sun’s journey. Thus, the cosmic cycle is revealed—light and darkness perpetually giving birth to one another.
The king pressed further:
“What never closes its eyes in sleep? What does not move when born? What has no heart? And what increases in its own speed?”
Aṣṭāvakra replied:
“The fish never closes its eyes in slumber.
The egg stirs not when first produced.
The stone is without a heart.
And the river, flowing ever onward,
increases in its own current.”
And Lomasa explained: The riddle joined together four truths of nature. The fish is ever watchful, even in sleep. The egg holds stillness at its beginning. The stone is lifeless at its core. And the river, a symbol of dharma and time, grows stronger by its own motion, needing no external force.
Hearing these replies, Janaka’s astonishment grew. He said, “Surely, O possessor of divine energy, thou art no mere child. Thy wisdom is ripened, thy words bear the weight of years. Among men of speech none equals thee. Therefore, I grant thee admittance—behold, there is Vandin.”
Ashtāvakra, radiant with inner fire, stood before Janaka’s assembly and demanded:
“O king, summon Vandin,
the boastful disputant,
who walks like a swan across wide waters.
He deems himself lion of speech,
but before me he shall fall
like a stream swallowed by the sea.
I am fire full-blazing,
the snake whose head he tramples.
Let him come—
for none who strikes at the mountain
does aught but wound his own hand.”
Thus challenged, Vandin appeared, and the contest of wisdom began.
Vandin said:
“One only fire blazes in many forms.
One only sun illumines the world.
One Indra destroys the foe.
One Yama rules the Fathers.”
Lomaśa explained:
Vandin began with the number one. Fire is manifold—lightning, flame, altar-fire—yet one essence. The sun is single yet lights all worlds. Indra is the singular lord of victory, and Yama alone governs the Pitṛs.
Ashtāvakra replied:
“Two move forever side by side—
Indra and Agni, friends in might.
Two sages roam—Nārada and Parvata.
The Aśvins are twin-born healers.
Two are the wheels of the chariot.
Two live together as husband and wife.”
Lomaśa explained:
The boy-sage spoke of duality. Some forces act always in pairs—Agni and Indra in sacrifice, the twin Aśvins who heal, husband and wife who form one unit, and the chariot rolling only upon two wheels.
Vandin said:
“Threefold are beings born of acts.
Three Vedas uphold the sacrifice.
Thrice a day the priests commence the rite.
Three are the sacred words.
Three eternal lights shine.”
Lomaśa explained:
Here he spoke of the triad. Karma yields threefold birth—divine, human, or animal. The yajña rests on the three Vedas. Priests begin rites at dawn, noon, and dusk. The three words are Bhūr, Bhuvaḥ, Svaḥ, and the lights are fire, sun, and moon.
Ashtāvakra replied:
“Four are the āśramas of Brahmanas.
Four orders perform sacrifice.
Four quarters gird the earth.
Four letters form the syllables.
Four legs uphold the sacred cow.”
Lomaśa explained:
He turned to the number four—student, householder, forest-dweller, and renunciate are the four āśramas. The four varṇas perform sacrifice. The earth is bounded by four directions. Speech is formed by syllables of four parts, and the cow, symbol of dharma, stands firm on four legs.
Vandin said:
“Five are the fires,
five the sacred sacrifices.
Five feet make the metre Puṅkī.
Five locks crown the Apsaras.
Five rivers are holy on earth.”
Lomaśa explained:
The number five recalls the five household fires, the five daily sacrifices— to gods, ancestors, beings, men, and study. The metre Puṅkī has five feet. The Apsaras are depicted with five locks of hair. The five rivers of Bhārata—Gaṅgā, Yamunā, Sarasvatī, Godāvarī, and Narmadā— sanctify the land.
Ashtāvakra said:
“Six cows are gifted to kindle fire.
Six seasons wheel the year.
Six are the senses of man.
Six stars form Kṛttikā.
Six is the number of the Sādyaska rite.”
Lomaśa explained:
He spoke of six. The rite of establishing fire demands six cows. Time is measured by six seasons. Man has six senses—sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mind. The Pleiades are six stars, and six priests complete the Sādyaska sacrifice.
Vandin said:
“Seven tame beasts, seven wild.
Seven metres complete the yajña.
Seven Ṛṣis guide the worlds.
Seven ways of homage are known.
Seven are the strings of the vīṇā.”
Lomaśa explained:
Seven is sacred: seven domestic animals, seven wild. The seven metres of chandas perfect the ritual hymn. The seven Ṛṣis rule each age. Men bow in seven manners. And the vīṇā, instrument of Sarasvatī, has seven strings.
Ashtāvakra said:
“Eight are the treasure-bags.
Eight legs has Śarabha the lion-slayer.
Eight Vasus dwell in heaven.
Eight angles form the sacrificial stake.”
Lomaśa explained:
Eightfold wealth is measured in ancient reckoning. The beast Śarabha is said to have eight limbs. The eight Vasus are elemental deities. And the yūpa stake, set in sacrifice, is octagonal.
Vandin said:
“Nine mantras kindle the Fathers’ fire.
Nine functions guide creation.
Nine letters frame Bṛhatī’s foot.
Nine is the number of figures.”
Lomaśa explained:
Nine is mystical. Ancestors are invoked with nine mantras. Creation unfolds in nine functions—hearing, seeing, and so forth. The metre Bṛhatī has nine syllables per quarter. Nine numerals make up the system of reckoning.
Ashtāvakra said:
“Ten are the directions known to men.
Ten tens make a thousand.
Ten months women bear.
Ten teachers of truth there are,
ten haters, and ten who learn.”
Lomaśa explained:
The ten directions are east, south, west, north, the four intercardinal, zenith, and nadir. Ten tens give the full measure of number. Ten months a child rests in the womb. Ten kinds of men relate to wisdom—some who teach, some who oppose, some who receive.
Vandin said:
“Eleven are the objects of enjoyment.
Eleven sacrificial posts are raised.
Eleven changes mark the living state.
Eleven Rudras dwell in heaven.”
Lomaśa explained:
Eleven senses are reckoned—five of action, five of knowledge, and mind. Eleven yūpas stand in great rites. Eleven transformations belong to embodied life. Eleven Rudras, storm-gods, dwell among the hosts of heaven.
Ashtāvakra said:
“Twelve months complete the year.
Twelve syllables form the Jagatī’s foot.
Twelve are the minor sacrifices.
Twelve are the radiant Ādityas.”
Lomaśa explained:
Twelve is fullness—of time, of metre, of rite. The Ādityas, twelve in number, embody the months and the solar forms.
Vandin said:
“The thirteenth day of the moon is most auspicious,
and thirteen islands are spread upon the earth.”
Lomaśa explained:
Thus Vandin came to thirteen. The thirteenth tithi is sacred to vows. And in the reckoning of geography, the earth is said to bear thirteen great island-continents.