novelraw Arc 3 - Sanat-Sujata Parva Chapter 9 - The Blind King’s Question and Sañjaya’s Faith
Arc 3 - Sanat-Sujata Parva Chapter 9 - The Blind King’s Question and Sañjaya’s Faith
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Dhṛtarāṣṭra had listened to Kṛṣṇa’s speech and to the counsel of elders, he bade Sanjaya speak further. Then the seer’s eyes turned to me, and I told him that yet more had passed between Vasudeva and Dhanañjaya. Whereupon Dṛṣṭarāṣṭra, burning with curiosity, asked in a low voice, “What did Arjuna say when Keśava’s words were ended? Tell me all, O Sanjaya.”
Sanjaya replied:
When Keśava ceased, the irresistible Dhanañjaya—Kuntī’s son, patient in heart yet terrible in wrath when occasion served—rose and spoke in the hearing of Vasudeva. Standing there with eyes large and red at the corners, and looking steadfastly upon Kṛṣṇa, he uttered words of grave counsel and warning.
“O Sanjaya,” said he, “let it be known to all the mighty who stand assembled for the Kauravas’ cause—Bhīṣma, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Droṇa, Kṛpa, Karṇa, Vālhika, Droṇa’s son, Somadatta, Śakuni of Suvāla’s line, Duḥśāsana, Śalya, Purumitra, Vīṅgasvaṭi, Vikarna, Citrāśena, Jayatsena, Vinda and Anuvinda of Avanti, Bhūrīśravas, Bhagadatta, Jaraṣandha, and the rest of earth’s rulers—hear ye this warning from me.
Ye have been drawn together by Duryodhana to be offered, as libations, on the blazing sacrifice of the Pandava-host. In my name, O Sanjaya, make inquiry after each of those assembled—honour them according to their rank, but let the purpose of my words be plain. Tell that foremost of sinful men, Suyodhana: wrathful, avaricious, and blind in soul though he be, he must hear the truth I now proclaim.”
“Kings gathered as a pyre’s wood,
By greed and counsel duly led;
I say, O herald, sound the word—
They stand to fall, to fill the dead.”
Arjuna continued:
“Bid them ponder this and put it to their hearts: do not let the rites of battle require that libations be poured into the arrowy fire—where the rattle of chariot-wheels will serve as sacred mantras and the straining of bows as the ladle of sacrifice. If ye will not grant to Yudhiṣṭhira his rightful share of the kingdom, returned as he demands, then by my arrows—by cavalry, by infantry, and by elephants—I shall cast all of you into the ill-omened regions of departed spirits.
“Let not your wheels become the chant,
Nor bows the spoons of sacrifice;
Restore the right, avert the slant—
Lest wrath unbind its fatal price.”
Thus spake Dhanañjaya, and I—Sanjaya—bowed unto him and unto Hari of the four arms, and with all haste came hither to convey those words of weighty import to thee, O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, whose radiance matches that of the gods.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Duryodhana, the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, dismissed Sanjaya’s words with pride and mockery, and when the assembled rulers sat silent in discomfort, the kings of the earth rose one by one and departed. Their ornaments jingled softly as they went, leaving the royal court heavy with uneasy stillness.
Then the blind king, ever swayed by love for his misguided son, turned his thought inward and sent for Sanjaya in secret. His heart trembled like a leaf, for though he wished success for the assembled kings, the shadow of doubt already pressed upon his mind.
He said, “Tell me truly, O son of Gāvalgana—thou who knowest all hidden matters, and art familiar with the plans of the sons of Pāṇḍu—where lies the strength of our host and where its weakness? In what are we superior, and in what are we inferior? Thou art wise in virtue and in profit; thou knowest the powers of both armies as a man knoweth his own limbs. Therefore, tell me plainly, when battle comes, whose line shall perish and whose shall prevail?”
“The blind ask light, not for the eyes,
But for the heart that gropes in fear;
When truth must speak, deceit must die—
For silence brings the end more near.”
Sanjaya replied with calmness, bowing his head, “O king, I will speak no word in secret; for if I tell thee openly, thou mayest bear resentment toward me. Rather, summon hither thy sire Vyāsa of holy vows, and the queen Gandhārī of steadfast mind. They are wise, self-restrained, and guided by dharma; before such witnesses, my speech shall bear no taint of mistrust.
Let them hear, for in their presence, O king of the Kurus, I will tell thee all—the intent of Keśava, the resolve of Arjuna, and the fate toward which this war is drifting.”
“Before the eyes that see through veil,
Let truth be born and counsel stand;
For words that pierce in open day
Are pure as fire from dharma’s hand.”
Vaiśampāyana continued:
Thus advised, Dhṛtarāṣṭra caused both Gandhārī and the sage Vyāsa to be brought into the royal court. Vidura, ever watchful and devoted, led them in with reverence. Gandhārī came veiled, her face unseen yet radiant with the strength of inner sight; Vyāsa, dark and matted-haired, entered like a flame wrapped in smoke.
Understanding the thought of both Sanjaya and the troubled king, the great Kṛṣṇa-Dvaipāyana—lord among seers—spoke gently:
“O Sanjaya, in this assembly, before me, before the queen of steadfast heart, and before this blind monarch weighed by grief, speak truthfully all that thou knowest. Tell him of Keśava’s resolve and of Pārtha’s purpose, for truth uttered before the pure bears no sin.”
“When sages guard the path of word,
And dharma stands to judge the tone,
Then truth, though bitter, heals the wound—
And wisdom makes the heart its throne.”
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Thus ended that night’s council, heavy with foreboding and filled with the unseen breath of destiny. The air itself seemed to tremble, for the tide of war was rising, and the blind king groped toward the storm.
Vaiśampāyana said:
Then Sañjaya, bowing before Vyāsa and Dhṛtarāṣṭra, began to speak. His voice was calm, yet it bore the weight of vision; for he had beheld what few among men could see—the measureless might of Keśava and Arjuna, equal in glory, divine in form, born of will alone.
“Sire,” said Sañjaya, “those two—Vāsudeva and Dhanañjaya—are not as other men. Equal in splendour, equal in power, they descended of their own accord, choosing birth for the work of dharma. They are like twin fires lit by the same flame: distinct in form, yet one in essence.”
“Two lights the heavens could not contain,
Two fires the worlds could scarce endure;
In sport they wear the robes of men,
Yet through them burns the eternal pure.”
“The discus of Vāsudeva, O king—bright as a thousand suns—is five cubits wide, yet it shifts at will, large or small, swift as thought, moved by illusion. Ever radiant, it is unseen by thy sons, though it blazes before them. By that weapon’s sign alone may one discern the strength of the Pāṇḍavas; for where that discus gleams, there abides victory itself.
Know, O ruler of men, that he who bears that discus has in play overthrown Naraka, Śambara, Kaṃsa, and Śiśupāla of Cedi—all princes of vast might. Effortless he smote them down, as lightning smites the peaks of earth. Possessed of divinity and supreme soul, that exalted Being can, by will alone, draw beneath His dominion the earth, the sky, and heaven itself.”
“His thought creates, His glance destroys,
His breath sets all the stars in flight;
The worlds are born upon His voice,
Yet He walks clothed in mortal light.”
“Thou askest me often, O king, of the Pāṇḍavas’ strength and weakness. Hear then the truth in brief:
If all the universe be placed upon one scale, and Janārdana upon the other, He will outweigh it still. At His desire, the cosmos may be reduced to ashes; but even the entire cosmos cannot harm Him in return.
Where there is truth, there is Govinda.
Where virtue abides, there is Govinda.
Where modesty and simplicity dwell, there is Govinda.
And where Govinda stands—there, without fail, is victory.”
“Truth is His breath, the just His friend,
The pure of heart His dwelling keep;
Where Kṛṣṇa’s feet in dharma bend,
The fires of evil fall asleep.”
“That Soul of all creatures, exalted above gods and men, guideth, as in sport, the movements of earth, firmament, and heaven. Making the sons of Pāṇḍu but the outward means, He bringeth about the ruin of thy wicked sons, who are enslaved by sin.
By His divine power He turns the Wheel of Time, the Wheel of the Universe, and the Wheel of the Ages—unceasingly, irresistibly. And I tell thee truly, O king: He alone is the Lord of Time, of Death, and of all that moves or is still.”
“He is the wheel, the axle, fire, and wind;
In Him begins and ends the year.
The wise perceive; the blind are twined
In snares of doubt and driven by fear.”
“That great ascetic, Hari, though Lord of all that exists, still labours in the world like a humble tiller of the fields, veiling His infinity in simplicity. By His māyā He deludes the unseeing multitude, making them think Him mortal; yet those who have attained unto Him are no longer deceived.
Thus know, O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, that what moves toward war is moved by Him; that what seems man’s doing is but His play; and that the end of all deceit is truth—whose name is Keśava.”
“The world’s vast dream is in His hand,
He wakes and all illusions die.
The wise in Him forever stand,
The rest but live and know not why.”
And when Sañjaya ceased, the court was silent. The blind king’s heart trembled within him, for though he could not see, he felt the presence of the Eternal who guided all—the calm, inscrutable Kṛṣṇa, who smiled as destiny itself prepared for the field of Kurukṣetra.
Vaiśampāyana said:
When Sañjaya had spoken of Keśava’s divine nature, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, his heart stirred by wonder and doubt, asked with trembling voice:
“O Sañjaya, how hast thou come to know Mādhava as the Supreme Lord of the universe? And how is it that I, though elder and king, cannot perceive Him so? Tell me this, O son of Gāvalgana, for my blindness is now more than of the eyes.”
Sañjaya replied:
“O king, thou hast no jñāna (knowledge), and thy mind is veiled by avidyā (ignorance). He who is wrapped in the shadow of desire and pride sees not Keśava, though Keśava dwells before him. My vision, born of knowledge that hath not waned, beholds Him as He truly is—the union of the Gross, the Subtle, and the Cause; the Creator of all things, yet Himself uncreated; from whom the worlds spring forth and into whom all return at the end of time.”
“He is the Root, the Branch, the Seed;
The fire that burns, the rain that feeds.
Though all things change, Himself He stays—
The timeless source of nights and days.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra said:
“O Sañjaya, what is this faith of thine in Janārdana, by which thou knowest Him as the Cause and the End, the Gross and the Subtle? Tell me by what path thou hast come to such sight.”
Sañjaya said:
“Blessed be thou, O king. I have cast aside the glitter of illusion that men call pleasure; I have not sought the dry virtue of hollow vows. Through purity of soul and faith, I have come to know Janārdana by the light of the sacred śāstras. Knowledge is His lamp, devotion His flame.”
“Faith is the bridge across the sea,
Where wisdom walks and fear is slain.
The world is lost to such as me—
For I behold the One who reigns.”
Then Dhṛtarāṣṭra, struck by a last stirring of wisdom, turned to his son and said:
“O Duryodhana, seek refuge in Janārdana—Hṛṣīkeśa, the Lord of senses. Sanjaya is our faithful friend and speaks for thy good. Take shelter in Keśava, O child, for there is no safety apart from Him.”
But Duryodhana, his heart darkened by envy, answered with bitterness:
“Even if the divine son of Devakī, united with Arjuna, were to slay all mankind, still would I never bow to Keśava!”
“The fool rejects the hand that saves,
The blind despise the dawn of day.
His pride shall dig for him his grave,
When Bhīma’s wrath sweeps all away.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra sighed deeply and said:
“This son of mine, O Gandhārī, is bent upon destruction. Wicked and vain, scorning the counsel of elders, he chooses ruin for himself and woe for us all.”
Then Gandhārī, her eyes veiled yet burning with grief, spoke:
“Covetous wretch! Disobedient to the aged, thou abandonest thy father and me, forsaking life and fortune, delighting our foes and breaking my heart.
But thou shalt remember these words, O fool, when Bhīmasena strikes thee down and thou bitest the dust upon the field of war!”
“The mother’s curse is soft as breath,
Yet falls like thunder on the proud;
Her tears foretell the warrior’s death,
Her silence speaks his shrouded shroud.”
Then Vyāsa, the sage divine, spoke to the sorrowing king:
“Listen to me, O Dhṛtarāṣṭra! Thou art dear to Kṛṣṇa, and Sanjaya’s words come not to harm but to save thee. He knows Hṛṣīkeśa—the eternal, ancient One.
If thou heedest his counsel, thou mayest yet escape the ruin that looms.
Men are bound by wrath and desire; those who crave what is not theirs are caught again and again by Death, as the blind led by the blind fall into the pit. The wise alone tread the path that leads to Brahman. Keeping that path in view, they conquer Death and reach the Supreme Goal.”
“Desire is death with golden face,
Wrath the chain by which we fall;
But wisdom is the path of grace—
The gate of peace beyond it all.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra said, “Tell me, O Sañjaya, of that path without terrors by which, obtaining Hṛṣīkeśa, I may find salvation.”
Sañjaya answered:
“O king, the man whose mind is not subdued can never know Janārdana, whose soul is perfectly restrained. Sacrifice without mastery of the senses leads nowhere. Renunciation of sense-objects arises only through spiritual light; and both renunciation and compassion are born of true wisdom.
Therefore, strive with all thy strength to subdue thy senses, and fix thy intellect on the knowledge of truth. Let not thy heart be lured by the glitter of the world. The wise call this conquest of the senses true knowledge—and by that wisdom, men of learning reach their goal.
Keśava is not attainable by those enslaved to desire; He is known only to those who, having subdued the senses, seek spiritual knowledge awakened by scripture and by the joy of divine contemplation.”
“He dwells not where the senses stray,
Nor where desire’s wild fires burn;
But where the heart, by peace made pure,
Finds in itself the way’s return.”
Thus ended Sañjaya’s discourse on the supreme Lord, and the court fell silent like the hush before dawn. The blind king sat motionless, caught between sorrow and awakening, while destiny, already in motion, rolled unseen toward the field of Kurukṣetra.