Stories of the Great Bharata - A Retelling

Arc 1 - Jamvu-Khanda Nirmana and Bhumi Parva Chapter 2 - Sanjaya Describes The Earth’s Design

Vaiśampāyana said:

“O best of kings, when Dhṛtarāṣṭra, weighed down by fate yet calm in resolve, spoke thus to the great sage, the illustrious Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, entered deep contemplation. Seated in silence, that foremost of ṛṣis gathered his mind in supreme Yoga. His inward gaze reached beyond time itself, and after a brief stillness, he spoke again, his voice carrying the gravity of eternity.”

“O king of kings, behold the wheel of Time—

It turns, devouring all sublime.

Time brings creation; Time destroys;

The world’s own breath its end employs.

There is no thing that shall not fade,

No crown nor realm that Time hath made.

Let dharma be thy guide and light,

For only righteousness is right.”

Then Vyāsa continued:

“Without doubt, O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, it is Time that destroys the universe, and Time again that brings forth worlds. There is nothing here eternal. Show the way of righteousness to thy sons, thy kinsmen, and thy friends; for thou alone hast the power to restrain them. The slaughter of kindred is condemned by the Vedas. Do not act in a way that would grieve me.

O king, Death himself is born in the form of thy son. Slaughter never brings good; it brings only sin. The customs of one’s race are like the limbs of the body — he who destroys them destroys himself. It is Time, O ruler of men, that has led thee astray for the ruin of thy house. In the form of thy kingdom, calamity has entered thy life. Thy virtue wanes, thy fame trembles. What is a kingdom worth that costs thy soul? Preserve thy name, thy righteousness, and thy honor — for they alone lead to heaven. Let the sons of Pāṇḍu possess their rightful realm, and let peace reign among the Kurus.”

“Thy son is Death in mortal guise,

Whose pride no counsel pacifies.

To save thy house, restrain his hand,

Lest sin consume thy ancient land.

The throne thou holdest, built on strife,

Will steal thy virtue, fame, and life.

Let Pāṇḍu’s heirs their kingdom gain,

And righteous peace through Dharma reign.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

“As the sage spoke with compassion, the aged king, son of Ambikā, wise in words yet bound by affection, replied with humility.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra said:

“O holy sage, I know as thou dost the truth of life and death, the mystery of fate and rebirth. Yet man, when his own blood is concerned, loses judgment. Know me, O venerable one, as an ordinary being, not as one above delusion. Thou art a seer of immeasurable might; extend thy mercy to us. My sons heed me not, and my will falters before their pride. Thou art the refuge and preceptor of our line — the source of our virtue and our fame. Thou art grandsire to both Kurus and Pāṇḍavas alike.”

Vyāsa replied:

“O royal son of Vicitravīrya, speak freely what lies in thy heart; I shall dispel thy doubt.”

Dhṛtarāṣṭra said:

“O sage of sacred vows, tell me, I pray, what are the signs that foretell victory to an army in battle?”

Then the great Vyāsa, seeing the shadow of war yet teaching dharma even through it, spoke of the omens that declare triumph.

“When fire burns pure, its flame upright,

Its smoke subdued, its color bright;

When conches sound both deep and clear,

Then victory’s steps are drawing near.

When crows behind their hosts command,

‘Advance, O warriors, take your stand,’

When birds wheel right with joyful cries,

Then conquest greets the righteous skies.”

Vyāsa continued in measured tone:

“When the sacrificial fire blazes brightly, its flame pure and unsullied by smoke, and its scent fragrant as ghee, success approaches. When the conches and cymbals sound deep and clear, when the Sun and Moon shine with unsullied light, these are auspicious signs.

If crows utter pleasant cries, those behind urging advance and those ahead forbidding retreat, victory is near. When vultures, cranes, swans, and parrots circle to the right, uttering delightful calls, the learned declare that triumph shall surely follow. When the warriors’ mail, standards, and ornaments glitter so that no eye can endure their brilliance, then their victory is certain.

Those who shout joyously and whose garlands do not fade, who speak kindly even to their foes and warn them before they strike, always cross the sea of battle. When the senses of hearing, sight, touch, taste, and smell remain undisturbed, when the soldiers rejoice at all times — these are also signs of victory.

When the winds blow softly, when clouds shed gentle rainbows, and when birds move auspiciously, success draws near. But when these are reversed, destruction is certain.”

“Joy is the banner of the brave,

Fear the herald of the grave;

One heart dismayed, one mind undone,

Can turn to flight a thousand men.

A host once broken, none can save,

Though heroes fight and captains rave;

For panic spreads as fire through reeds,

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And valor faints where terror leads.”

Vyāsa said further:

“Whether an army be large or small, cheerfulness is the truest mark of triumph. One frightened man can shatter the courage of a host; once broken, no multitude can be easily rallied. The wise must seek victory through counsel, not carnage. Success won by negotiation or diplomacy is best; that achieved through sowing division is middling; but victory by battle is the worst, for in war the first fruit is slaughter.

Even a handful of resolute men, united in mind and free of fear, may overcome legions. Five or six who never turn back may achieve what thousands cannot. The eagle Garuḍa, though alone, scatters countless birds without the help of others.

Thus, O king, victory does not rest in numbers but in resolve. Success is uncertain and ruled by chance. Even they who triumph in battle suffer loss, for in the harvest of war, death claims both victor and vanquished alike.”

“Seek peace, O king, before the flame,

Consumes thy sons, thy house, thy name;

For none escape when Time doth call—

He weaves one fate, one end, for all.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

“When Vyāsa, the great sage, had spoken thus and departed, Dhṛtarāṣṭra sat long in silence, reflecting upon his words. His breath came heavy with sorrow, his heart weighed by the shadow of war. Then, O bull among kings, sighing deeply again and again, he turned to Sanjaya, endowed with celestial vision through the boon of Vyāsa.”

“O Sanjaya,” said the king in grief,

“Tell me of earth, her fate, her chief.

For men of valor, fierce and proud,

Gather to swell the realm of shroud.

They strike and die for fleeting clay,

For land that drinks their blood today.

If earth can charm such souls to die,

What secret dwells in her vast sky?”

Then Dhṛtarāṣṭra spoke:

“O Sanjaya, these kings, lords of men, delighting in battle, are bent on slaying one another with countless weapons. Unable to restrain their wrath, they strive for earth as though she were heaven itself — increasing only the dominion of Yama, the god of death. For the sake of possession, they destroy one another. Surely this earth must hold wondrous powers, since even the wise crave her at the cost of their lives. Tell me, O Sanjaya, all her qualities, her breadth, her lands, her cities, and the realms from which these countless heroes have come to Kurujāṅgala. By the gift of the divine Vyāsa, thou seest all things — both near and far — with the eye of celestial knowledge. Speak, therefore, that I may understand.”

“Countless hosts from hill and plain,

From rivers’ mouth and ocean’s main,

From city vast and forest deep,

Have come their vow of death to keep.

Tell me, O seer of sacred sight,

Of earth’s expanse, her strength, her might;

For in her womb all life is sown,

And unto her returns each bone.”

Sanjaya bowed his head and replied:

“O king, hear now from me, according to my knowledge, the glory and the mystery of the Earth. Behold her with the eye of wisdom. I bow to thee, O mighty Bharata, and speak.

Creatures in this world are of two kinds — the mobile and the immobile. Of the moving, there are three orders of birth: those born of eggs, those born alive, and those produced by heat and moisture. Among these, the viviparous are the highest, and of them, O king, men and beasts are foremost.

The beasts, it is said, are fourteen kinds: seven wild and seven tame. The wild are lions, tigers, boars, buffaloes, elephants, bears, and apes. The domestic are kine, goats, sheep, men, horses, mules, and asses. Thus the Vedas declare the full number — fourteen — which are the pillars of sacrifice and life.”

“Of beasts untamed the lion reigns,

In strength and pride he breaks his chains;

Among the tamed, the man is lord,

By thought and speech and righteous sword.

All feed on all, in life’s design,

The chain is one, the root divine;

From seed to man, from leaf to breath,

All rise from Earth, and end in death.”

Sanjaya continued:

“Vegetation, O king, is immobile and of four forms: trees, shrubs, annual creepers, and grasses. Thus reckoned with the mobile, there are nineteen, and with the five elements — earth, water, fire, air, and ether — they number twenty-four. These twenty-four are called the Gāyatrī Brahma, the sacred measure of creation, known to the wise.

He who knows these to be the limbs of the divine Gāyatrī is not lost in the world, O best of the Bharatas. For all that exists springs from the Earth, and when destroyed, returns to her again. She is the refuge of all beings — mobile and immobile — eternal, patient, and mother of all.

He who possesses the Earth holds within his grasp all creatures, all worlds, all elements. Therefore, O king, it is for her that rulers of men destroy one another; for in her is bound the illusion of power, and in her rests the destiny of kings.”

“From her we rise, to her we fall,

She is the cradle, she the pall;

The Earth endures, though kings decay—

The silent witness of their clay.

For he who claims her, claims the sky,

The gods, the stars, eternity;

And thus for her men fight and die—

For dust that dreams of immortality.”

Vaiśampāyana said:

“Then the aged king Dhṛtarāṣṭra, his mind ever seeking knowledge, once again addressed Sanjaya, who was gifted with divine sight. The blind monarch, yearning to comprehend the world that his eyes could not behold, spoke thus with grave curiosity.”

“O Sanjaya, thou of boundless lore,

Describe the earth’s far reach and shore;

Her rivers, mountains, forests deep,

Where gods and men their vigils keep.

Her provinces and sacred lands,

Her peaks where light eternal stands;

Tell me their measure, form, and name,

For all on her bears dharma’s flame.”

Sanjaya bowed and replied:

“O mighty king, thou askest of the earth, vast and immeasurable, the dwelling of gods and men. Hear, then, the truth as taught by sages who discern the subtle weave of creation.

All things in the universe are equal in essence, O king, for in all dwell the five eternal elements — ākāśa (space), vāyu (air), tejas (fire), āpah (water), and pṛithvī (earth). Each of these is the body of the Divine, and from their union arises all that moves and all that rests.

Their attributes are fivefold: sound belongs to space, touch to air, form to fire, taste to water, and scent to earth. Yet each succeeding element bears also the qualities of those before it — thus earth, the last and densest, possesses them all: sound, touch, form, taste, and fragrance. Therefore do the ṛṣis declare her to be foremost among the five.”

“Sound is space’s single strain,

Touch the breath of air’s domain;

Fire reveals through form and hue,

Water tastes both old and new.

Earth, O king, sustains them all,

Bearing scent through rise and fall;

From her the senses life receive,

And into her they all must weave.”

Sanjaya continued:

“When the elements exist apart in their pure and natural states, there is only unity — a calm, unmanifest expanse. But when they mingle with one another, blending their essences, then life takes form, and creatures are born, endowed with bodies.

When dissolution comes, each merges into its predecessor — earth into water, water into fire, fire into air, air into space — until all rest again in the eternal Brahman. Thus, creation and dissolution flow ceaselessly, like the inhaling and exhaling of the universe. These truths, O king, are subtle and beyond reason’s grasp; what lies beyond the nature of men must be known not by logic but by inner sight.”

“The five are one, the one is five,

From Brahman’s breath all worlds arrive;

They rise, they fade, they form, they cease,

Returning home to boundless peace.

The wise perceive through vision’s flame,

That all is One, though called by name;

And he who knows this secret birth,

Beholds the soul within the earth.”

Then Sanjaya spoke further:

“O descendant of Bharata, hear now of the great island called Sudarśana, the radiant abode of men and devas. This island, O king, is circular like a wheel, shining like the reflection of the moon upon clear water. It is encircled on every side by the salt ocean, its waves glimmering like silver serpents in the sun.

Within it rise mountains vast as clouds, veiled in mist and crowned with trees that bear blossoms and fruits in all seasons. Rivers innumerable flow through it, gladdening provinces rich with grain, gold, and diverse treasures. Cities of splendor adorn its plains, filled with men of valor and wisdom.

As one sees his reflection in a polished mirror, even so is the island Sudarśana seen within the lunar disc — two of its parts shaped like the leaves of the holy aśvattha tree, and two like the form of a mighty hare. Around its edges grow every kind of forest tree — flowering, fruit-bearing, and evergreen — while the rest of its vastness is covered by the waters of life.”

“Round as the moon in heaven’s height,

Encircled by the ocean’s might;

The isle of Sudarśana gleams,

A wheel of gold in lunar streams.

Forests bloom and rivers run,

Mountains shine beneath the sun;

And men and gods together share,

The beauty dwelling everywhere.”

Sanjaya concluded:

“Thus, O king, have I spoken in brief of that sacred island and of the mystery of the fivefold world. What remains I shall tell thee further, when thy mind is prepared to hear of the oceans and the lands beyond — for the Earth herself is endless in her wonder.”

“The sage beheld through vision’s fire,

The cosmic wheel, the world entire;

And through his word the blind king saw,

The Earth — the body of eternal law.”