The Upside-Down King Read online

  Ratnakara was taken aback. Speechless, he turned to his children. Taking a cue from the elders, they too denied any share in their father’s sins.

  Saddened, Ratnakara finally looked at his wife. He was confident that his life partner would share his losses as much as his gains, and help reduce the burden of the sins on his soul. But she too shook her head.

  Ratnakara realized the truth in the sage’s words and ran back to him. He found Narada sitting under a tree chanting, ‘Narayana! Narayana!’

  Ratnakara fell at his feet and began to cry. ‘O Great Sage! You have opened my eyes. Not one person wants to share the load of my sins. I want to get away from this lie of a life. Tell me how to atone for my misdeeds. Please guide me.’

  Narada held him by his shoulders. ‘Child, mistakes are bound to take place if one doesn’t receive proper guidance,’ he said gently. ‘Now focus on God and meditate. Eventually, you will understand the meaning of life. Just chant the word Rama repeatedly. It is, after all, the name of the lord.’

  Ratnakara tried his best to say ‘Rama’, but his tongue was unable to pronounce the pure name of God, no matter how much he tried.

  After some time, Narada suggested, ‘Let’s try something else. Do you know anyone called Mara?’

  ‘Yes, I had a friend named Mara,’ Ratnakara replied.

  ‘Excellent! Then just chant that repeatedly,’ said Narada with a smile. He stood up, bid Ratnakara goodbye and departed.

  Ratnakara found a comfortable place to sit and began chanting, ‘Mara Mara Mara Mara.’ Soon, it seemed as if he were chanting, ‘Rama Rama Rama Rama.’

  Years went by and an anthill began growing around Ratnakara. But he did not stop chanting and remained lost in meditation. Seeing this, people started referring to Ratnakara as Valmiki, or the man within the valmika, an anthill. As more years passed, Ratnakara’s original name was forgotten, and he came to be known only as Valmiki.

  At last, Narada came to see him and removed the anthill. Valmiki finally opened his eyes. Narada blessed him and encouraged him to start an ashram. Soon, Valmiki’s fame as an enlightened sage spread far and wide.

  One day, Valmiki was heading to the river Ganga for a bath when he came across a stunning stream called Tamasa. Valmiki thought, ‘The water is so clear—just like a pure mind. I think I will have a bath here today.’

  He placed his things at the base of a big tree on the banks of the water and happened to notice a pair of beautiful white cranes. He smiled at the peaceful sight.

  Suddenly, an arrow struck the male crane and the bird died. Filled with agony, the female crane screeched and cried until it also died of grief and shock. Valmiki’s heart burst with pain, and anger coursed through his body. He looked around to see who had shot the bird and spotted a hunter with a bow and an arrow a few feet away. Furious, he cried out,

  Maa nishada pratishtham tvamagamaha shaasvati samaaha

  Yat kraunchamithunaadekam avadhi kaamamohitam.

  O hunter! May you suffer forever and find no rest, because you have killed one of the most devoted and passionate bird couples.

  Later, when Valmiki composed the Ramayana with the blessings of Lord Brahma, the above became the first shloka of the epic.

  Today, Valmiki is respected as the first poet or adikavi, and the Ramayana is called the first kavya or composition (adikavya).

  A Measurement of Time

  Once, there lived a generous king named Nimi, who ruled the kingdom of Videha. The capital of Videha was the city of Mithila.

  One day, Nimi decided to perform a yagna and requested Sage Vasishtha to be the chief priest. The sage, however, declined. ‘I apologize, but I have a prior commitment with Lord Indra that same day. Please go ahead and I will join the yagna a little later.’

  Nimi requested Sage Gautama to start the yagna, so that Sage Vasishtha could take over when he arrived.

  As fate would have it, Nimi forgot to inform Sage Vasishtha about the time of the yagna. By the time Vasishtha arrived, the preparations were almost at an end, without any input from Sage Vasishtha. Vasishtha was very upset and admonished Nimi. ‘You are an irresponsible king. To perform a yagna with sincerity, proper preparation must be done, and the person performing it must be ready. That takes time. How could you forget to inform me of the time?’

  Nimi accepted his fault. ‘O Sage, your anger is justified. Your clan has been the guru of my clan for generations. It is a position most sacred to my lineage. In my hurry and carelessness, I have committed a grave mistake. I have offended you and been a great disappointment to my ancestors. This offense is so great that I do not wish to live any more.’

  The sage became thoughtful. The king had made a terrible mistake, and Vasishtha understood his plight.

  The king continued, ‘O Sage, I have just one request: help me so that I may see the world through the eyes of my subjects and be with them every day even after I leave this perishable body.’

  With a nod, Vasishtha transformed the king into eyelashes. Eyelashes are called nimi in Sanskrit, and since it only takes a second to blink, this unit of time came to be known as nimisha (a second).

  From the Heavens to the Earth

  King Bahu of the Ikshvaku dynasty was not concerned about the welfare of his subjects or the protection of his kingdom. He would often be found drunk or gambling, or both, and in no state to rule.

  Knowing that the kingdom was weak, another king waged a war against Bahu, who escaped to the forest with his two wives and took shelter in the ashram of the sage Bhargava. To make matters worse, one of his wives was pregnant, and during this stressful time, the other wife became jealous and poisoned the first, despite knowing that she was with child. However, Sage Bhargava learnt of this and rushed to the woman’s rescue. He did his best to drain the poison from her body, but it could not be removed completely, and the baby was born with traces of poison in his blood. So the baby boy was named Sagara, which also means ‘along with poison’. Sagara grew up in the sage’s ashram, learning the art of warfare and receiving an excellent education.

  Over time, he regained his father’s lost kingdom and became a wonderful king. He had two wives. The first wife gave birth to a baby boy named Asamanjasa, while the second wife performed a dedicated penance and was blessed with 60,000 children. These children collectively dug a pond that in time turned into an ocean. That is why the ocean is also called sagara, for the sons of Sagara.

  Asamanjasa turned out to be like his grandfather, and so did his 60,000 stepbrothers. Sagara struggled to mould his children into worthy future kings.

  Meanwhile, in an attempt to establish supremacy, King Sagara decided to perform the Ashvamedha yagna. During this process, a king’s horse is allowed to wander around for a year. Wherever the horse goes, the king of that land either accepts the sovereignty of the master of the horse or challenges him. Once the horse returns to his master’s kingdom, the king’s status gets elevated to that of an undisputed sovereign.

  Lord Indra learnt of Sagara’s plans and, fearful of the consequences, kidnapped the horse. The 60,000 children searched far and wide for the horse, but with no luck. After some time, they came across a meditating sage, Kapila. They stopped there, and one of them asked the sage if he had seen the horse, to which the sage did not reply because he was in deep meditation. But the children took the lack of response as an insult and began hitting the sage. Kapila finally broke his meditation and opened his eyes. They were red with anger. With one glance, all of them were reduced to ashes.

  When King Sagara learnt of the demise of his children, he rushed to Sage Kapila. Folding his hands, he requested him, ‘Honoured sage, I am aware that my children have made a grave mistake, but they have also done some good in their lives, including the creation of an ocean that sustains life. I beg you not to deprive them of attaining moksha.’

  Kapila was a kind sage. He replied, ‘For your children to attain moksha, the river Ganga must flow over their ashes. Only then can they go to heaven.’