saktuprasthena vo nayam yajnastulyo naradhipah
Yajnas of the Tapasvins
At the end of Yudhisthira's asvamedhayajna — the great yajna during
which mountains of grains and rivers of ghee were consumed, and
kings and people from all over the world were served for days and
months together —a mongoose gets up, lets off a fierce growl that
thunders like lightning and makes the birds and animals tremble
with fear, and then adopting a human voice says:
saktuprasthena vo nayam yajnastulyo naradhipah
unchavrttervaddnyasya kuruksetranivdsinah1
O kings of the earth, this great yajna of yours has not yet
equalled the one single measure of roasted grain given away
by a generous resident of Kuruksetra, who himself used to
live off the left-over grains painstakingly collected from harvested
fields and marketplaces.
And on being asked the reason for this unbelievable assertion,
the mongoose begins to tell the story of the austere, but generous,
brahmana of Kuruksetra.
Story of the unchavrttibrdhmana
Once upon a time in Kuruksetra, the land of dharma, the land
that is always inhabited by those who know dharma, there lived a
1 Maha asvamedhika 90.7, p. 6293.
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YAJNAS OF THE TAPASVINS
brahmana. He obtained his livelihood by unchavrtti - by gathering
the left-over grains from harvested fields and marketplaces. Like a
pigeon, he would painstakingly collect his food grain by grain. And
on such food did he nurture his whole family, comprising his wife,
son and daughter-in-law.
This brahmana family, though living the life of a worldly household
was engaged in great austerities. They were pure in their
thoughts and actions. They had subdued their worldly desires. Of
the meagre food that they gathered, they ate only once in six mealtimes.
And if for some reason they had no food when the sixth
mealtime arrived, they would skip the next five and wait for the
sixth again.
And then it so happened that the land was visited upon by a terrible
famine. The crops in the fields dried up. There were no grains
to be collected from anywhere. The brahmana family, who lived off
the left-over grains gathered afresh for every meal, of course had
no stocks in their home. They were reduced to total destitution.
The sixth mealtime arrived and passed again and again, but the
brahmana family had nothing to eat.
They remained without food for many weeks. Then, one hot
summer afternoon, when the sun was emitting fire, the whole of
the brahmana family went out in search of left-over grains. They
were suffering greatly from the hunger and the heat, yet they kept
searching for long to somehow find enough grains for their meagre
meals. They returned empty-handed. They could not find even a
single grain of food.
They waited and somehow survived the next five mealtimes. And
then they set out again in search of food. This time they were in
luck. They were able to gather one measure of barley. They brought
it home, roasted and pounded the grain, and prepared for their
long-awaited meal. They performed the proper ablutions and made
their offering to the fire. And, only then did they divide the roasted
and pounded grain into four quarters and sit down to partake of
that austere meal.
But before they could begin eating, there appeared a twice-born
guest on the door. Hungry though they were, the sight of a guest
arriving at mealtime pleased them no end. They warmly welcomed
him, enquired about his welfare, acquainted him of their own learn:
ing and antecedents, and escorted him into their little mud-house.
And the head of the family respectfully invited him to take a seat
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THE UNCHAVRTTIBRAHMANA
and partake of his quarter of the roasted grain, assuring him that
what was being offered had indeed been justly acquired.
On being thus invited and assured of the justness of the offering,
the guest ate the quarter measure of grains. But this could hardly
satisfy his appetite. And when the host saw that the guest had remained
hungry, he felt deeply worried. How could he let someone
go away hungry from his door?
Noticing the anxiety of her husband, the wife suggested that her
quarter-share of grains might be offered to the guest. The husband
remembered that his old wife had been suffering the pangs
of hunger for many many days: lack of nourishment had extremely
weakened her and she had been reduced to a mere skeleton. He,
therefore, felt hesitant in accepting the suggestion of his wife. But
the wife insisted, reminding him that she was an equal partner in his
dharma and artha, his duties and his seekings. The brahmana then
took her quarter-share of grains and respectfully offered it to the
guest. The guest partook of this second quarter measure of grains,
but even this did not fully satisfy his hunger. And the brahmana
host was left worrying again.
At this the son offered his quarter-share of grains to be given to
the guest. The father was even more reluctant to accept this offer.
For him, as he said, the son — even if fully grown up — remained a
child. And how could he deprive a child of essential nourishment?
But the son insisted, reminding him that the sons are sons because
they help in preserving the dharma of man, and in any case a son
is the man himself born again. The brahmana was pleased to find
that the son had well learnt the ways of self-control and propriety.
He took the quarter-share of his son and happily offered it to the
guest. But, the guest was still hungry.
Then it was the turn of the daughter-in-law to respectfully urge
the father-in-law to accept her quarter-share of grains and offer it to
the guest. The hesitation of the father-in-law in accepting this offer
was perhaps the most extreme. The daughter-in-law was a mere
child, who was suffering the pangs of hunger, and who had been
entirely enfeebled by days and days of fasting. It was his duty, as he
told her, to protect her in all respects. How could he deprive such a
one—who was a child, a woman, a fasting person and an enfeebled
one — of her meagre food? And after all she, as the daughter-in-law,
was the font of love and affection for everyone in the family.
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YAJNAS OF THE TAPASVINS
The father-in-law was indeed hesitant. But the daughter-in-law
insisted, telling him that for her he as the elder of the house was
both the teacher and the god. And her dharma, her earthly body,
and the life that animated it, were all dependent on the service of
the elders. She implored him not to deprive her of this honour.
The father-in-law was greatly pleased. He profusely blessed her and
took her quarter-share of grains to offer it to the guest.
The guest was finally satisfied. And, the guest was Dharma himself,
who had appeared in the human form to test the depth of the
brahmana's commitment to dharma. The brahmana had proved
himself. He and all his dependents had offered justly and painstakingly
collected food to a guest, even as they themselves were almost
dying of hunger. Even the gods in the heavens were struck with
wonder at the tenacity with which the brahmana and his family
held on to the dharma of annadana, to the discipline of satisfying
the hungry before eating for oneself.
Such selfless offering of food, as Dharma told him, was greater
than all the gifts offered in several asvamedha- and rajasuya-yajnas.
With the gift of that one measure of roasted and pounded grains, he
had in fact conquered, for all times, the brahmaloka: saktuprasthena
vijito brahmalokastvayaksayah?
Soon a celestial chariot appeared there. The brahmana, invited
with great reverence by Dharma himself, took his place in the chariot
along with his wife, son and daughter-in-law. And all of them
ascended to the brahmaloka in great glory.
Turning dust into gold
After narrating the story, the mongoose informs the gathering
of the great in the asvamedhayajna of Yudhisthira that he himself
witnessed the whole sequence of events from his hole in the ground
nearby. He came out of the hole after the ascent of the brahmana
with his family. The smell of the roasted and pounded grains offered
by the brahmana family to their celestial guest entered his nostrils,
the soil moistened with the water offered by the brahmana touched
his body, and he came in contact with a few grains that had fallen
from the hands of the generous hosts and the celestial guest. Such
2 Maha asvamedhika 90.104, p. 6300.
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TURNING DUST INTO GOLD
contact with that meagre, yet great, gift of anna turned the whole
of his head and half of his torso to gold.
The mongoose goes on to say that since then he has been roving
across the earth to find a place or occasion that would make
the rest of his body golden. He has attended many yajfias and
visited many a forest where the tapasvins perform their great austerities;
but to no avail. He came, he says, to the yajna of Yudhisthira
in great expectation. But his hopes have been belied. The grand
annadana of Yudhisthira's asvamedha has failed to compare with
the gift of one measure of roasted and pounded grain made by
that austere brahmana of Kuruksetra. A few grains fallen from the
hands of the giver and the receiver of that insignificant gift of food
turned half his body golden, but the unending annadana and other
gifts of the asvamedhayajha could not repeat that miracle. That is
why, says the mongoose, he is convinced that this great asvamedha
has not equalled the giving of that single measure of justly and
painstakingly obtained grains: saktuprasthenayajno'yam sammito neti
sarvaiha?
The kings and the rich, of course, must keep performing great
yajhas and distributing anna and other precious gifts. Such distribution
of food and wealth is a part of their responsibilities as
repositories of power and riches in society. It is for them to so organize
the affairs of society that nobody is left in hunger or want. It is
for them to organize great yajhas so that the wealth accumulated in
the treasuries may begin to flow through the society again, and the
diverse skills emerging amongst the people may find opportunities
for concerted expression.
Such formulation of the responsibility of the kings and the rich,
especially of their responsibility to ensure eradication of hunger
and destitution, is part of the essential doctrine of political organization
in India and we shall explore it further in subsequent
chapters.
The responsibility for sharing of food is, however, placed much
more widely in society. It is for everyone to share food with others
before partaking of it oneself. This, according to the classical
Indian texts, seems to be the basic precept of righteous living as
a human being. We have discussed this precept to some extent in
3 Maha asvamedhika 90.115, p. 6301.
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YAJNAS OF THE TAPASVINS
the earlier chapters and we shall have occasion to discuss it further
in the following.
The story of the unchavrttibrahmana of Kuruksetra, however,
seems to teach that the call of dharma goes beyond the responsibility
of the kings to distribute and the householders to share
what they have. Dharma may even require going hungry oneself to
assuage the hunger of another. Distributing wealth accumulated
in the treasuries and sharing the food before eating oneself are
of course righteous acts, but these merely amount to performing
one's assigned duty. All kings and ordinary householders must do
it in order to remain within the discipline of dharma. But it is the
giving away of the last morsel of food one has that conforms to
dharma at its best. Kings who perform great yajhas and give away
plentiful food and wealth, and householders who always feed others
before eating for themselves, merely avoid incurring great sin; it is
only those who feed others even when they themselves have nothing
to eat who earn great virtue. The former are the upholders of
the worldly order, they make the world move; the presence of the
latter, however, turns even dust into gold.
The story of the kapotadampati
The Mahabharata records another touching story of a host giving
up his all, in fact his very life, to satisfy the hunger of the guest. The
host in this other story is a bird, a pigeon, and the guest a hunter
who has earlier encaged the bird-wife of the pigeon. The story is in a
way a premonition of the story that the mongoose tells towards the
end of Yudhisthira's asvamedhayajna: the story of the brahmana
who gathers his food grain by grain, like a pigeon, and gives up
what he has gathered for the sake of a guest, putting his own life
and the life of his entire family in jeopardy.
The story of the self-sacrificing pigeon is told, in the apaddharma-
parvan of santiparvan, to Yudhisthira by Bhisma, who says that in
earlier times it was told to Mucukunda by Parasurama, when the
former had sought to know the dharma of looking after one who
comes to the abode seeking protection. The story goes thus:
Once upon a time in a great forest there roamed a terrible hunter.
He was fearsome to look at. With red eyes on a dark body, dark like
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THE KAPOTADAMPATI
a black crow, huge thighs, small feet, broad face, and a wide chin:
he looked like kala, the god of death himself. His cruelty knew
no bounds. No gentle thought ever crossed his mind. Everyday he
would set up his snare, catch birds of the forest in droves, kill them
all, and sell them for their flesh. This was his daily routine. And
he continued to ply his cruel trade day after day, for a long long
time.
One day, while he was going about his business of dispensing
death in the forest, suddenly there arose a vicious storm. Mighty
winds began to fell the trees, the sky was overcast with dense clouds,
and the darkness was broken only by the occasional glow of lightning.
Soon it began to rain. And in no time the whole earth was
covered deep in water.
The hunter almost fainted in that incessant rain and the sudden
cold. He lost his way. And while moving around wildly without direction,
he could not even make out the mounts and the ditches in
the forest. Around him he saw droves of birds and herds of animals
running around in great fright.
Birds hid themselves in their nests, animals sought out the safety
of dry high lands. But many perished in the rain and cold. The
hunter was also half-dead with cold. He could neither stand, nor
walk. In this state he saw a she-pigeon lying on the ground. Suffering
from severe cold, she was unable to move or fly. The hunter too
was in an equally helpless condition. But, even then, by sheer force
of habit, he picked her up and consigned her to the cage. Used to
living in sin, he could think of nothing better even in his hour of
intense suffering.
Then, all of a sudden, he saw a big tree. Its foliage was thick, dense
and dark like a cloud. Numerous birds, seeking shade, shelter and
fruit, had made it their home. It seemed as if the tree, like a saint,
had taken form only for the purpose of serving others. As soon as
the hunter saw that tree, the clouds began to break, and bright stars
began to shine through.
In the clear dark night lit by the shining stars, the hunter noticed
that he had strayed far away from his home. And, he was still shivering
with cold. Therefore, he made up his mind to spend the night
under the tree. And invoking the gods of the tree for protection,
he spread some leaves on the ground and lay down with a stone as
his pillow.
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YAJNAS OF THE TAPASVINS
As luck would have it, there lived a beautiful spotted pigeon on
that tree with all his relatives. His wife had been away in search of
grain since the morning. She had not returned in the evening. And
as the night fell, the pigeon began to worry about her. When the
hunter reached the tree, the pigeon was crying for his dear wife,
recalling her beauty and her unswerving faithfulness. He recalled
the way she provided him constant companionship and unerring
assistance in all difficult situations. And he wondered what kind of
a place would his home be if his loving and caring wife were not
there to enliven it with her pleasant speech? Would such a home
be any different from the wild forest?
His wife, ensnared in the hunter's cage, heard him wailing thus
for her. And she felt greatly fulfilled. If her husband was so intensely
pleased with her, there was nothing more that she wanted in the
world. Forgetting her own woes, she could think only of protecting
the dharma of her husband. And she advised him that he had a
guest in the house, and it was his primary duty to look after him.
He should therefore stop worrying about her and prepare to offer
proper hospitality to the hunter. She even advised her husband
that he had been blessed with sons and daughters, he had already
fulfilled himself, and therefore he need not be constrained to protect
his own body while arranging the necessary hospitality for the
guest.
The pigeon almost cried with pleasure on listening to the sage
advice of his wife. And immediately, he offered himself and his
house at the service of that cruel guest. He graciously welcomed
the hunter, asked him to feel free as if he were in his own house,
and lovingly enquired after his needs. The pigeon also reassured
him that he, the hunter, had come to his house and even an enemy
coming thus ought to be offered proper welcome. After all, a tree
does not withdraw its shade from the one who comes to it with the
intention of cutting it down: chettumapyagate chayam nopasarhharate
drumah.^
The hunter, accepting the offer of hospitality from the pigeon
requested him to find a way of saving him from the biting cold.
The pigeon gathered a large heap of dry leaves, and then flew to
the blacksmith to bring fire. Soon he had a big blaze going. The
4 Maha santi 146.5, p. 4807.
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THE KAPOTADAMPATl
hunter luxuriously warmed himself up on the fire. He was relieved
of the cold. And then he began to feel the pangs of hunger.
There was of course no food accumulated in the nest of the
host. He was a pigeon, who ate as he picked the grains. He had
no occasion to put away any of the grains he picked for use at a
later time. For once he felt unhappy about such livelihood of a
pigeon. Of what use was this livelihood that left him with nothing
for entertaining the guests at his door?
But, whatever be the kind of livelihood assigned to him, he could
hardly allow a guest to go hungry. He, therefore, thought for some
time and, quickly making up his mind, gathered some more leaves
and let the fire blaze high again. He told the hunter that he had
no food to offer him, but requested him to accept his body instead.
With this request and with the resolve to satiate the hunger of his
guest, he went around the fire thrice and then dropped himself
into the blaze.
The hunter was shocked to the core of his being. He had seen the
pigeon so gladly sacrificing himself to honour and satisfy a guest
like him. He could no more bear to continue the life he had been
leading till then. He quickly released the she-pigeon that he had
encaged, and leaving behind everything ^ the stick, the torch, the
snare and the cage —he set out on a great journey, that would lead
to his death, with the resolve that he would follow the example of
the pigeon and bring himself back to the life of dharma by incessant
fasting and by undertaking great austerities.
The she-pigeon, released from the cage, began to recall the
happy times she had spent with her husband, and unable to bear
the pain of separation, she too jumped into the fire. Soon she was
united with her husband, and the two of them together ascended
to the heavens in a celestial chariot, escorted by hundreds of crores
of men of great virtue, each of whom was sitting in his own celestial
chariot.
The hunter, overcoming all temptations, entered a deep and
inhospitable forest, full of thorny shrubs and savage beasts. Soon
he was consumed by a great forest-fire, which cleansed him of all his
sins; and thus he too found a distinguished abode in the heavens.
Thus did the sage pigeon-couple serve their guest, and fulfilled the
dharma of grhasthasrama. Their commitment to dharma was, of
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YAJNAS OF THE TAPASVINS
course, extraordinary. Through such commitment they not only
earned a place for themselves in the heavens, but also brought a
violent person, like the hunter, back to righteousness and opened
the path of heavens for him.
But in honouring and endeavouring to serve the guest who had
come to their house, the pigeon and his wife were performing,
though indeed with extraordinary rigour, what is known to be the
ordinary dharma of a householder. Because, as the pigeon told the
hunter:
SKM^Rld 4>l4Hl(d«t^MIJld I
^MFk) 3NTH>Ki^ fT: II
aravapyucitam karyamatithyam grhamagate
chettumapy agate chayam nopasarhharate drumah5
Even if an enemy comes to the house, he ought to be offered
all hospitality. After all a tree does not withdraw its shade
from those who come to it with the intention of cutting it
down.
And further, he said:
$KuIMdW <+><MHlfd«f f^JPerT: I
wnms % %ra" ^tfrr ^ra*r i
cR^TTFT =T^"TTf ^T^t"HTfrT^frT: II
saranagatasya kartavyamatithyam hi prayatnatah
pancayajnapravrttena grhasthena visesatah
pancayajnamstu yo mohdnna karoti grhdsrame
tasya nay am na caparo loko bhavati dharmatah6
It is the duty of all to offer hospitality to the one who comes
to their house. But it is the special duty of the grhastha,
the householder, who is committed to the observance of
pancamahayajha..
5 Maha /anti 146.5, p. 4807.
6 Maha santi 146.6-7, p. 4807-8.
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THE KAPOTADAMPATl
The grhastha who is so immersed in ignorance that he fails
to perform pahcamahayajna cannot rightfully obtain a dignified
place, either in this world or in the world hereafter.
A grhastha is indeed like a great tree that provides sustenance to
all who seek his shelter. The discipline through which the grhastha
fulfils this onerous responsibility is pancamahayajha, the details of
which we shall explore in the next chapter.
The pigeon, and the brahmana of Kuruksetra who had
adopted the kapotavrtti —had taken to the livelihood of
a pigeon — performed extraordinary pancamahayajha. In the
following we describe the ordinary pancamahayajha of the ordinary
grhastha.
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