Jada Bharata

An abridged retelling from J. M. Sanyal's English translation of the Srimad Bhagavatam

The sage Shuka told King Parikshit of Bharata, the eldest son of Rishabhadeva, a great devotee of the Lord. The land of Bharatavarsha was once called Ajanabha, and it took the name Bharatavarsha from him.

The king in the forest

Bharata married Panchajani, the daughter of Vishvarupa, and they had five sons: Sumati, Rashtrabhrit, Sudarshana, Avarana and Dhumraketu. Bharata ruled in the way of his father and grandfather, loving his subjects and performing many sacrifices. In each of them he saw the Lord Vasudeva as the one to whom every offering goes. As he did, his heart grew purer and his devotion grew stronger.

When the years he had set aside for ruling were complete, Bharata divided his kingdom equally among his sons, left his palace, and went to the hermitage of the sage Pulaha. By the river Gandaki, where the Lord is said to remain near his devotees, he worshipped Hari with flowers, leaves, tulasi, water, fruits and roots. He wore a deerskin, bathed three times a day, and let his matted hair grow tawny. As the sun rose, he would say a hymn from the Rig Veda: "Salutations to the pure radiance of the divine sun, by whom this universe has been created, who protects all creatures, and from whom we have our intelligence." His love for the Lord grew until tears flowed and his hair stood on end for joy.

The fawn

One day Bharata bathed in the Gandaki, finished his morning rites, and sat on the bank repeating the syllable Om. A doe came to the water to drink. She was heavy with a fawn. Just then a lion roared nearby. The doe, in terror, leapt into the river to cross it. The young one, still unborn, slipped from her and fell into the stream. The doe got across, but she was exhausted and alone, and she fell into a mountain cave and died.

Bharata saw the little creature carried off by the current. Moved by compassion, he lifted it out and carried it to his hermitage. He fed it twigs, protected it from wolves, and stroked and kissed it. Little by little the care of the fawn took the place of his bathing, his vows and his worship. "It is alone and has no mother," he thought. "It knows no one but me. It has taken shelter with me, so I must look after it."

He slept, sat, walked, bathed and ate with the fawn. When he went to gather kusha grass, flowers and fruit, he carried it on his shoulders in case it was taken by dogs or wolves. In the middle of his worship he would get up to see whether it was safe. When it strayed, he was as anxious as a miser who has lost his money. He would wander about looking for it, and wonder whether the moon had taken it in to keep it from the lions. At last, seeing the footprints of the fawn in the earth, he cried, "How fortunate this earth is, to show me his path."

So Bharata fell away from his practice and from the worship of the Lord. The sage who had given up his own sons, because he thought them a hindrance on his path, now loved a fawn as a son. While he lay thinking of the young deer, Time came upon him, as a snake comes to a mouse's hole. He gave up his body with the thought of the fawn in his mind, and was born as a deer.

The deer

Because of his yoga, the deer did not lose the memory of his former life. He remembered what had brought him to this form, and he remembered his worship of the Lord. "Alas, how I have fallen from the path of the self-controlled. The mind that I kept so long on the Lord in the forest, hearing and chanting and never neglecting Him for a moment, has been drawn away by my love for a fawn."

Full of secret remorse, he left his deer-mother, and went from the Kalanjara mountain to the hermitage of Pulaha, called Shalagrama, where Hari and the ascetics love to dwell. There he lived alone and afraid of company, eating dry leaves, grass and creepers, and waiting for the end of his deer's life. When the time came, he gave up the body in the sacred stream.

The Brahmana who was taken for a fool

There was a Brahmana of the line of Angirasa, learned, self-controlled and content, who had nine sons by his first wife. By a second wife he had twins, a daughter and a son. The son was a devotee of the Lord, and people said that this was the royal saint Bharata, born again as a Brahmana.

Even now he feared bad company, in case he should fall again. So he held the Lord's feet firmly in his mind, and he acted like a deaf, dumb and foolish person in front of everyone. His father loved him and tried to teach him. He gave him the sacred thread, and tried in spring and summer to teach him the Gayatri with the Pranava and the Vyahritis. The boy would not learn. Time came for the father before the son had learned anything. His second wife left her twins in the other wife's care, and followed her husband.

After the father's death, the elder brothers treated the boy as a fool and gave up trying to teach him. They thought only of Vedic learning, and did not know the power of their brother. He repeated what people said to him like a beast, and did what anyone asked. He ate whatever came to hand, whether given or begged, broken grain, husks, cow-dung cakes or burnt rice, and ate it like nectar. In winter, summer and rain he went about in the open, with a body as strong as a bull's, covered in dust. His Brahmic splendour lay hidden in him like a jewel under ashes. His brothers set him to work in the mud of the paddy fields, and he did it, without knowing whether the work was hard or easy, much or little.

The night of the sacrifice

There was a chief of thieves who wished for a son, and had vowed to sacrifice a man to the goddess Bhadrakali. The man they had seized for the purpose escaped one night. The chief's followers searched the dark fields, and found the boy standing guard in a paddy field, stationed on a high spot. They saw his good marks and thought he would serve. They tied him with ropes and brought him to the goddess's temple.

As their custom was, they bathed him, dressed him in new cloth, adorned him with ornaments, garlands and sandal marks, and fed him. They offered him incense, lamps, garlands, fried rice and fruits. They sang the praises of Kali to the beat of drums, and made him sit before the image with his face bent down. The priest took up a dreadful sword.

The thieves were driven by ignorance and pride in their wealth. They did not see what it was that they were about to kill: a Brahmana who was a friend to all creatures, and who had no enmity toward anyone. But the goddess saw, and the brightness of his Brahmic power burned her. She sprang out of the image, her face terrible, her eyes red, her brows bent, and she laughed as if she would destroy the world. She took the thieves' own swords and cut off their heads. She and her attendants drank what flowed from their necks, and sang and danced, and tossed the heads about like balls.

Shuka told the king that those who harm a great soul reap the fruit of it, and that those who have surrendered to the Lord have nothing to fear, even at the hour when the sword falls.

The palanquin

Rahugana, king of Sindhu and Sauvira, was travelling in a palanquin, and when he reached the bank of the river Ikshumati one of his bearers was worn out. The head bearer went to look for another, and saw the Brahmana. "He is strong and plump," he thought. "He can carry as a bull does." So the Brahmana was forced to carry the palanquin, and he did.

But as he walked he set his feet with care, so as not to trample any creature. The other bearers could not keep pace with him, and the palanquin swayed. The king was angry. "Why do you not walk evenly?" The bearers said, "We are not careless, O king. It is the new man who does not keep pace with us." The king mocked the Brahmana: "You poor fellow, are you tired from carrying the palanquin alone for so long? You look thin. Is it old age? Are these men not your companions?" The Brahmana, who was keeping a vow of silence, said nothing and went on carrying.

The palanquin swayed again, and this time the king lost his temper. "Are you dead while you live? Do you dare to disobey me, your master? I shall punish you, as Yama punishes, so that you may come to your senses."

The Brahmana smiled and spoke at last. "What you have said is not wholly false, O king. If there is one who carries a burden, he has weight, and if there is one who walks, he has a road. But these words belong to the body and not to the soul. Hunger, thirst, fear, sleep, anger, pride and sorrow belong to one who is born with a body. They do not belong to me, the soul. As for 'dead while living,' everything that changes has a beginning and an end. Who is master, and who is servant? If you believe that you are the master, then command me, and tell me what I am to do. As for punishing me, a fool, dull and mad, what would be the use? It would be like grinding what is already ground."

Having said this, the Brahmana took up the palanquin again. But Rahugana had heard the words, and he stepped down. He sat at the Brahmana's feet and begged pardon again and again. "Who are you, in this disguise? Are you one of the Avadhutas, like Dattatreya? Whose son are you? Why have you come here? Are you Kapila himself? I am not so afraid of Indra's thunderbolt, or of Shiva's trident, or of Yama's rod, as I am of insulting a Brahmana. Though you hide your knowledge and live like a fool, your glory shines out. Be kind to me, that I may be freed from the sin of insulting you."

What Bharata told the king

The Brahmana, still in the form of a fool, answered the king. "Though you are not learned, you speak like one who is. The wise do not take worldly ways as real. The mind is what takes many forms and many names, and creates happiness and sorrow. As a lamp's flame, fed with oil, gives out a smoky light, but returns to its own nature when the oil is gone, so the mind, when it is fed by the qualities, takes on many shapes. The Lord dwells in all beings, as the breath dwells in every living body. A man wanders through the world so long as he has not seen what his mind is. Take the sword of service at the feet of Hari, O king, and with it slay this mind."

Rahugana said: "Your words are like medicine to the fevered and cold water to the thirsty. I have a doubt, and I ask it humbly. You said that the action and its fruit that are seen do not lead to the truth. What do you mean?"

The Brahmana replied: "This man who carries, with his knees, thighs, chest and shoulders, is only a change in the world. The king of Sauvira is a name. You are proud of being its king and protector, but this is only a name, and you torment poor people by force. The one truth, pure and unchanging, within and without, is what the sages call Vasudeva. It is not reached by austerity, or Vedic ritual, or giving food, or worship of fire or sun, but only by bathing in the dust of the feet of the great."

Then he said: "In my past life I was King Bharata. I left the world and went to the forest to worship Vasudeva. But I grew attached to a deer, and was born a deer after my death. The memory of my worship did not leave me even then. That is why, in this life, I go about in disguise, afraid of the company of men."

He then told Rahugana of the forest of the world, where people walk hungry and tired, robbed by six thieves, tricked by mirages, and stung by bees when they look for honey. They fight over a few possessions, pick up friends and lose them, and never reach the other end of the road. "You also are on this road, O king. Cut your bonds with the dagger of knowledge that has been sharpened by service to Hari, and cross it."

Rahugana said: "Even a moment with you has destroyed my ignorance. Salutations to the great and to the small, to all Brahmanas, and to those who wander the earth as Avadhutas. By their favour may it go well with all kings."

Rahugana bowed at Bharata's feet. His heart was filled with a joy like a full ocean, and he gave up all sense of "mine" in regard to his body. He went on his way through the world as before, at peace.

Shuka said that this was the glory of those who take shelter with the devotees of the Lord. King Parikshit then asked him to explain the forest of the world and its meaning, and Shuka did so in the chapters that follow.