Verse 8

In plain words

6. Reflections on Vairāgya Kuntī Devī came and said: "Your Prema, which kept us and our children in your eyes and protected us — how could it forget us all this time and stay away? That my sons are ruling this kingdom today — all of this is your grace alone! Had you not been there back then, who knows what would have become of my sons by now, O brother-in-law! We were subjected to many hardships, but more than all of them, the pain of your not being with us kept hurting us still more. In the end, even the hope of seeing you again had sunk to the bottom in us. Today the joy of all of us has taken on its full form. What an auspicious day today is, my dear! Neither the good fortune nor the joy of it can be put into words, can it?" As she wiped away her tears, Vidura, holding Kuntī's hands and wiping his own tears too, recalling all that had passed, said: "Mother! Kuntī Devī! Who has the power to overstep destiny? However a thing is to happen, so it cannot fail to happen. Whatever sin and merit each person has done — that alone stands as the cause of what befalls him; others are not the cause. A human being bound by the string of prārabdha surely cannot be his own master! However that string makes him dance, so he must dance. Wherever it pulls him, there he must go; our likes and dislikes can do nothing at all in this. All is His will, is it not?" As he carried on a Vedāntic discourse in this way, in many forms, Dharmaja, Bhīma, Nakula and Sahadeva listened with bowed heads and with the utmost attention.

Who Has the Power to Overstep Destiny? Kuntī, again stroking his head, said: "My child! By your cool glance you won the war. But we were unfortunate enough not to be able to protect Draupadī's sons and Subhadrā's son. They passed beyond your sight. Those very flames still burn our hearts without end. As you yourself have said, who has the power to overstep destiny? Whatever has happened has happened and is over. Grieving over it now brings no benefit, and it is futile to keep straining after what is gone. In this anguish, seeing you has been like having one's thirst quenched at last. Brother-in-law! Where in the world have you been all this time, my child!" So Kuntī Devī asked, overflowing with joy. In answer, Vidura said, "I have been wandering, making many pilgrimages, never staying steadily in one place." Then, as the Pāṇḍavas each questioned him in their own way about their sacred pilgrimages, and Vidura related his experiences of those pilgrimage sites, Dharmaja, again and again, wondering when such good fortune would be his own, would close his eyes and join his palms in salutation every single time a holy place's name was spoken. Just then Bhīma said, "Uncle! Did you also visit Dvārakā? Do tell us the news from there." Then Dharmaja asked eagerly, "Did you go there and see Nandanandana? Please tell us everything," and Kuntī Devī said, "My child! Our boy Arjuna, too, was right there. You must surely have gone and seen him as well. Are all the Yādavas well? How are the aged Nanda and Yaśodā, and Devakī and Vasudeva?" — one after another outdoing the last, they showered him with a rain of questions about news of Dvārakā. Vidura, hearing all this, without answering any of them, went off talking of matters that would make them forget their questions.

The reason was this: he had already heard from Uddhava, on the way, of the destruction of the Yadu dynasty. So, not wishing at once to deliver this sorrow to the Pāṇḍavas, immersed as they were in a joy so precious and so long in coming, and intending that he himself must not turn into sorrow the joy his own arrival had brought — "Tomorrow or tonight, one way or another, Arjuna will come and can tell it, surely? This news must not become known through me" — he swallowed it down deep within himself, and describing only Kṛṣṇa's many virtues and recounting His līlā, he kept changing the subject: "Mother! In this ascetic's garb of mine I did not wish to go anywhere near my kinsfolk. So I have not seen Nanda and Yaśodā, nor any of the other eminent Yādavas" — and with that one remark he brought the talk about Dvārakā to a stop there. "It was just that, hearing the news that the Pāṇḍavas — children I reared and brought up from childhood — had won victory in the war and are ruling the kingdom, I came here alone, out of the fond eagerness of one who raised them; but I did not intend to go to the homes of any of the rest of our people. Old affection has dragged me here," he said, and went on to expound various Vedāntic matters. When the talk had concluded in this way, Dharmaja entreated his uncle to kindly come to the guest house specially prepared for Vidura with every comfort, and escorted him there. There Dharmaja appointed attendants to serve his uncle and entreated him, "May you rest a little in here." Although Vidura had no wish to live in that mansion filled with every amenity, he was unable to refuse, for Dharmaja's satisfaction, and entered it. Having taken a little rest and lying on the bed, as he recalled the past — that his elder brother Dhṛtarāṣṭra, through the very schemes he had devised, had brought destruction upon his own line; and that, although he had tormented the Pāṇḍavas in so many ways,

even today Dharmaja was worshipping and honouring Dhṛtarāṣṭra with great Bhakti and śraddhā and keeping them in comfort in every way — learning this, he rejoiced at the generous nature of the Pāṇḍavas; and as he reflected on Dhṛtarāṣṭra's cast of mind, an intense anguish surged up in Vidura: this old man, with Vairāgya still not come to him, enjoying every pleasure in the royal palace and giving no thought to merit or to the puruṣārtha, is laying his life to waste. Time Itself Is Swallowing Everyone On the one hand, seeing with yogic sight the approaching hour of the Pāṇḍavas, he suppressed both feelings in his mind, and summoned the courage of the conviction that the Lord Himself, who had protected the Pāṇḍavas from that day on, would be able to look after them today as well. Reflecting within himself that after the Pāṇḍavas were gone this blind king would have to undergo still greater sufferings, he resolved that at least now he must get him out of the household, make him undertake pilgrimages, and help him turn his remaining time to fruitful account; and, without delay, meaning to go right now and tell him what was for his true good, he rose and, in the dark and telling no one, walked to Dhṛtarāṣṭra's residence. Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Gāndhārī, who were just getting ready to retire, learned of Vidura's coming and awaited him, recounting the fruit of their own sin and grieving in many ways. Vidura consoled them, offering in between the essence of Vedānta, and calmed the two of them with many things. Then, thinking that by gentle words this hardened heart would not melt nor the dulled Buddhi be set right, he watched for his moment and began to use harsh words and to change his tone of voice. Noticing this, Dhṛtarāṣṭra said: "Brother! We have lost a hundred sons and, overcome with grief, are in anguish. Instead of calming us with gentle words, to wound us with such harsh words, as if thrusting needles into sores —

is that just? We have at last been able to see you after so very long — and even before we could taste that joy, to push us into still deeper unrest: is that Dharma for you?" "Alas! When this is what fate has written for us, whom can we blame, and what use is there?" So saying, they placed their hands on their heads and grieved. Vidura thought, "This is the fitting moment for Vairāgya," and, with the good intention that by any means he must send these two on pilgrimages to holy places, meaning to change their hearts, he began to use still harsher words. On the one hand the grief of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Gāndhārī made him feel "Alas!"; on the other, foreseeing the harsh time to come, he resolved that by any means he must make these two blessed, and said: "O King! Is your craving for enjoyment still not quenched? Sinking and surfacing in the well of saṃsāra until death — what gain is there in it? While the serpent called Time lies in wait, ready to devour, in the thicket called the body, you close your eyes and think you will swallow Time. No one in this world has ever swallowed Time. Time itself is swallowing everyone. Unable to realise that, sunk in ajñāna, you are languishing over artha and kāma. You are leading the life of a beast. You are laying human life to waste. Strive to make it fruitful — the time has not yet run out. At least now, leave home, forget this world, remember the Supreme, and cross over. Rather than giving up your life lying at others' doorsteps, to give up one's life in the deep forest in contemplation of the Paramātma is supremely holy. Leave the household and go for tapas."