Far away from Ayodhya, in a thick forest dwelt Valmiki. His spiritual eye was sharpened by the life of penance and solitude. No one would believe now if told that this soft-spoken gentle recluse, once upon a time, in this very life-time, was a fierce dacoit who had ended the lives of a countless
number of way-farers. His life changed however, when a clever traveler asked
him to think of an answer to his question: “For whose sake do you commit these
heinous crimes?”
“For my family! They depend upon me for their livelihood.”
The dacoit said.
“Do you know, if caught, death is the punishment for
you?”The traveler asked.
“I know it. But the thought of my family emboldens me to
take the risk,” said Valmiki.
“Do they love you as much as you love them?” The traveler
asked.
“I am sure they do,” said Valmiki.
“Then, if you are caught, will they go and offer to die in
your place?” The traveler asked.
“I am sure they will; but I won’t let them,” said Valmiki.
“Go home and find out, “said the traveler. “I shall wait here
till you come back with the answer,” said he.
Valmiki at once dropped his lethal axe and went home
disarmed. He rallied his family around him and said, “Do you know how this home
survives? Do you know what I do to maintain ourselves?” The dacoit asked.
They confessed their ignorance. “I loot lone way-farers in the forest, kill
them, and bring the booty home,” said he.
They laughed. “We don’t care what you do and how, so long as
you do your duty, which is to feed us and keep us happy, “said his wife..
He was aghast at their selfishness and callousness.
“Well, I am tired of killing innocent people for your sake.
Hence you go to the forest and do what I have been doing for you sake,” said
he.
They were speechless and looked at each other.
“Do you know the consequences if the king’s men come and
arrest me tomorrow?”
His wife said, “We didn’t know you kill. We never told you
to kill; so we are not responsible for the consequences.”
“Will you hand me over to the king’s men if the things come
to that pass?”
“We won’t. But we won’t be able to do anything to save you,”
said his wife.
“Then will you stand by and see me die?”
“I am sorry, but what else can we do?” She asked.
Valmiki stepped out of the house and since that day Valmiki:
the dacoit: vanished from the pages of time and there was born Valmiki the
sage.
The traveler who had brought about this metamorphosis, had
uttered a mystic name’Rama’ in his ears. The sound of it magnetized him. It
acted like a light on his path and gave him strength. How and why, he did not
know.
One day, he met a man who stopped to talk to him and said,
“You will write. You will write the saga of a king called Rama.”
Valmiki looked at him in astonishment.
“It’s not in me even to write a line that makes sense. I
have no strength left to do anything,” said he to the man.
The man simply said, “You are going to write, pages after
pages, thousands and thousands of verses. Ages will go by, but your work will
continue to be read by millions of generations of humanity,” said the man.
Valmiki, who considered himself lost and defeated at the
hands of life, stared in disbelief.
The quiet certainty in the man’s eyes filled him with a
faith he had never known before.
“I will. I will write because I believe you,” said he.
The name Rama haunted Valmiki like the name of some
long-lost beloved whose face begins to glimmer in the clouds. He would retreat
in solitude to think of Rama whom he had never seen. The name generated a
passionate desire to see him, know him, to feel his heart and mind. Soon he began
to live with the thought of Rama. The name was transformed into a thought and
the thought was transformed into energy of an unknown origin.
Valmiki came to believe in the reality of it all. He was
born anew in that self-created reality. His mind became devoid of every desire
other than the desire for meeting Rama. He was no longer of this world.
Gradually in his hours of solitude, he began to feel the
presence of a man whose heart was a silent lake of a deep sadness, and
surrounding that sadness was peace and compassion. Valmiki began to live in
that peace and compassion, away from the turbid life of busy men. He began to
wonder if life could be any better than this solitude which was filled with the
presence of Rama.
………………
Years went by. Valmiki had no knowledge of what was
happening in the world of politics and civilization. Two cultures were clashing
with each other. Kings and sages were under threat of extinction from the
powerful races of rakshasas, daityas and asuras. Sages were massacred, people
subjugated. Kings were unable to protect sages.
One day, Valmiki met the same holy man who had prophesied
that Valmiki was to write the saga of king Rama. Till that day, Valmiki had not
written a single word to that effect.
The holy man gave him a smile of
assurance. He said, “The saga is ready. It has been enacted. It is waiting to
be told. Unless you immortalize it in poetry, it will be forgotten. But I can
see; its destiny is ordained now. I am an ordinary bard who narrates the facts
of the lives of kings and queens. Today I will recite to you the story of the
king Rama. Mind you, I will present mere facts; but you are going to transform
them into a perennial epic. Valmiki listened to the story in amazement. For
hours together, the holy man spoke and Valmiki listened, internalizing the
story of his beloved Rama, who had indeed been crowned the king of Ayodhya
after a long ordeal of unimaginable suffering.
When the holy man had uttered the
last word, there was a peaceful silence. The holy man reclined in his seat and
said to Valmiki, “Hereafter your mission begins. Bring this story to life and
let the world know it. Valmiki fell at the feet of the holy man. A wave of
sublime beauty engulfed him all around.
The holy man raised him up. “Let
this knowledge not escape your understanding. Enter into it with all your soul.
Reality is far deeper than facts. Enter that reality which is lying beyond
facts. Go to the secret which my recitation of facts points to but does not
divulge.”
Valmiki listened intently. The
holy man continued, “I started off my narration from a place and a point of
time. You have to take this saga beyond the limits of an epoch. Let your mind
range over every possible thought and feeling experienced by humanity. Let the
friend himself in the foe. Let the rival unite with the claimant. Let everyone
see his own self in the other. Let your discourse be disengaged from all will
to power: the will to possess: the will to engender blame and hence guilt in
your listener. Let it be a story of infinite patience and sharing”.
The holy man got up to take leave
of Valmiki.
“You have entrusted me with an
impossible task. I don’t think, it’s in me to bring it to fulfillment,” said
Valmiki.
The holy man said, “You don’t
have to strive. A time will come when you will find a peaceful marriage of the
right word with the right thought. Do not have any preoccupation right now. A
tree does not fall where and when we expect it to fall. But it’s ready to
fall.”
Valmiki looked at the holy man
with disbelief.
“I have not received any
schooling in grammar. I’ve never been in the company of scholars. You have entrusted
me with an impossible task. You have very high expectations of me: a less than
an ordinary man who has been spending life in the wilderness of this forest!”
said Valmiki.
“Who told you that language
always follows scholars? The task I see ahead of you needs a heart that is
all-embracing. You are self-taught. Your penance and solitary self-reflection
will raise you above all those who claim to know the secret of language.”
The holy man thought it
unnecessary to answer any further questions. He took leave of Valmiki and went
the way he came.
……………
