Srimate SrivanSatakopa Sri Vedanta Desika Yatindra Mahadesikaya nama:
The Trivial Tribute
Poverty had them in its crippling embrace. Its cruel manifestations were there
for all to see-in the tiny, ramshackle house with the roof ready to fall on
one's head at the slightest sneeze, the empty shelves and almirahs with
provisions and condiments conspicuous by their absence, the hearth full of
ashes, sole remnants of the cooking fire made a full seven days ago, the
absolute lack of cheer on the face of the emaciated inhabitants who had been
starving for days and had nothing major (or even minor, for that matter) to
look forward to, the muted whimpers of children too hungry and exhausted even
to emit a full-throated cry, the uniformly unseemly clothes the residents wore,
with innumerable patches trying in vain to join torn cloth which had served out
its life-the tell-tale signs of abject penury were only too evident in the
household. The head of the family, however, remained unaffected by all the
privations poverty could impose, and spent most of his time in blissful
contemplation of the Lord and His auspicious attributes. He dwelt mostly in the
past, constantly cherishing memories of the glorious days spent in the company
of that boisterous brat Krishna, sharing everything from a morsel of stolen
butter to the most private of secrets, with nary a care in the world. Those
were the days, filled with youthful adventure, fun and frolic, in the
bewitching company of glorious GopAla, the epitome of mischief, whom everybody
loved so much and who loved everyone back with the same measure of wamth and
goodwill. It was unadulterated affection, prompted solely by mutual love,
without any expectations of quid pro quo whatsoever. Mere thoughts of those
fun-filled and sunny days in the company of the youthful Yadava were enough to
make one feel satiated, even if the stomach remained unfilled and growled in
hunger.
The gentleman's wife was however a more practical lady, who thought more about
where the next day's food was to be scrounged from, with an army of infants to
be fed. Children grew up fast and it was indeed unseemly for grown-up girls to
be clothed in the rags they sported, for want of anything better to wear. Her
eyes filled with tears at the pitiable sight of the children's lean frames with
hardly any fat clinging to them, their eyes full of expectations and dreams,
all of which remained in the realm of imagination. And how long could one go on
the way they had, with square meals a thing of the distant past and even
morsels difficult to come across? It pained her to think of their helpless
state, with no light at the end of the long tunnel which seemed to stretch away
endlessly. They had borrowed from everyone possible, till there was none to
lend to them.
Racking her brains for some source of aid, she thought of and discarded
relatives, neighbours and acquaintances as likely providers of succour. At that
moment, she heard her husband's lips muttering Sri Krishna's name, as he did
often when he was consumed by nostalgia and longed for the boyhood friend's
company. An idea struck her forcefully: why not ask her husband to seek some
help from his friend Krishna, who was doing extremely well, by all accounts? He
was reputed to be quite well-off and endowed with all sorts of riches. Even if
He were to spare them a minuscule bit of His wealth, they could eat comfortably
for days together. And, if He were all that close to her husband, He would
definitely not refuse the need-based appeal.
However, like all husbands to whom brilliant ideas have been voiced by their
better halves, SudhAma too demurred, preferring to look upon his friendship
with Krishna as something to be cherished and treasured, rather than to be
materially exploited. He couldn't bear the thought of going to Krishna with a
begging bowl, whatever be the current privations-not that the latter would
refuse him anything, for the bonds of friendship that bound them together were
too strong to be strained by mere requests for alms.
Much in the fashion of every wise husband, who knows what is good for himself,
having dutifully made his protest, Sudhama too fell in line with his wife's
suggestion, albeit with extreme reluctance. It was more the deep desire to see
Sri Krishna again, rather than any inclination to seek alms that made him agree
to go to Dwaraka. Thus He consented to go to his friend of yore and to request
him for aid, if only to enable them to keep their body and soul together.
There arose a problem-if he was to meet Sri Krishna, he couldn't very well go
empty-handed. Even if he couldn't afford something valuable enough to be
offered to DwArakAdeesa, he had to carry some little thing at least, which
could serve at best as a poor substitute to what the latter was acccustomed and
entitled to be offered. His wife came to the rescue, putting together four
fistfulls of "aval", borrowed from neighbours in an act of scraping the barrel.
With the humble offering securely bundled in his upper cloth, Sudhama set off
on the long journey to Dwaraka.
Though the city lay at a long distance from Sudhama's residence, the very
thought and eager anticipation of meeting Sri Krishna and the mere notion of a
reunion with the best of friends kept the poor brahmin going, without any
thought of hunger, fatigue or other incoveniences, minor and major. He walked
in a trance, with his thoughts fixed solely on Krishna and His exploits. And in
no time at all (it appeared to KuchEla) he had arrived at the bewilderingly big
city of Dwaraka.
Sudhama didn't need to enquire the way to the Lord's residence-his instinct
guided him unerringly to the largest and most magnificent of palaces, like a
week-old calf finding its mother accurately in a huge herd of cows. The
striking splendour of the palace made him hesitate for a moment at its portals,
mindful of his own extremely humble appearance, in vivid contrast to the
beautiful clothes worn by even the lowliest of Sri Krishna's servitors.
However, picking up courage, he entered and, after passing several magnificent
halls and rooms filled with every imaginable form of wealth, reached at last
the splendid abode of the Lord, brilliant with the radiance of gems and jewelry
adorning every nook and corner of the place, where Sri Krishna was engaged in
friendly banter with Sri Rugmini, every bit equal to Him in beauty and
boundless magnificence.
Surprisingly, it never occurred to Sudhama to wonder about the sort of
reception he was likely to be accorded, for he was banking solely on a distant,
childhood friendship. He did not for a moment doubt that his friend of yore
would remain the same and would retain the same degree of warmth He had
displayed earlier, several long years ago. He never imagined for a moment that
his efforts to renew the bonds of affection could be spurned by the rich,
powerful and glorious Krishna, who might no longer remember nor desire the
company of those incomparably low in social, economic and other status. Not for
a trice did it occur to him that his childhood friend, now the exalted Emperor
of Dwaraka, might develop a convenient amnesia, where poor playmates of infancy
were concerned. Such was Sudhama's implicit faith in the genuineness of the
Lord's dealings.
As it happened, every bit of the poor brahmin's trust was proved true, when Sri
Krishna, espying His bosom friend of yesteryears, came rushing down from His
throne and locked Sudhama in a bear hug indicative of the depth of emotion. It
was indeed a scene for jaded eyes-the all-powerful Emperor of Dwaraka embracing
intimately an emaciated brahmin who was poor as a dormouse. It brought to
memory the embrace bestowed by Sri Chakkravartthi Tirumagan on the bestial
hunter Guha. Tears of joy at the reunion emanated from the lotus eyes of the
Lord and coursed down His beautiful cheeks-the Lord was crying unashamedly at
the sight and feel of the long-lost friend, with whom He had spent many an hour
of fun and frolic.
Reminded of His duties as a host, the Lord reluctantly disengaged Himself from
the embrace and seated the protesting Kuchela on His (the Lord's own) throne,
washed Kuchela's feet, weary with treading all those miles of hard travel, with
scented water and, in an endearing gesture, sprinkled the same on His lofty
head. He personally applied sandalwood paste and perfumes on Kuchela, affording
him an exhuberant welcome fitting a rare visitor of royal descent. It was a
sight to behold, Sri RugminI personally fanning the ill-clad and emaciated
brahmin who was little more than a bag of bones, the coat of grime from head to
foot resulting from travel doing little to enhance his already unimpressive
looks. Those in charge of protocol at the Dwaraka palace were flabbergasted at
the blatant breach of all norms of etiquette governing royal conduct and were
about to protest when the all-knowing Krishna silenced them with a stern
glance. The amazed and astounded courtiers looked on, stunned at the good
fortune of the poor brahmin seated on the exalted throne, being waited upon
hand and foot by the Lord and His Consort and the abundantly apparent love and
affection the Lord had for His unimpressive visitor.
As is common to old friends who had been apart for long, Sri Krishna and
Kuchela picked up the threads of their once- intimate association and began
swapping nostalgic memories of the times that were, each interrupting the
other's narrative with cries of "Do you remember when.". They caught up with
all that had happened to each other since their parting and were so much
engrossed in themselves that even Sri RugminI began to feel ignored and a
trifle jealous of the visitor.
It did not occur to the humble Kuchela, amidst all this uproarious welcome, to
offer Sri Krishna the humble aval that he had brought from home; and if it did,
he must have been consumed by shame at the thought of offering the trivial
tribute to the exalted Emperor. He therefore kept quiet, whether due to
forgetfulness or design, we are unable to vouchsafe. However, remembering the
old friend's affectionate offerings during childhood, Sri Krishna told Kuchela,
"What have you brought for me now? And why are you hiding it in your uttareeyam
instead of handing it over immediately?". So saying, the Lord snatched
Sudhama's upper cloth, untied the knots, found the humble "aval" and with a cry
of delight, tossed a fistful into His mouth. Pleased beyond measure by the
modest offering, because it was brought by the devoted Kuchela with
overwhelming affection, the Lord relished it much more than all the delicacies
the palace kitchen had to offer. It afforded the Lord's taste buds such
pleasure as had not been occasioned in a long time, because true friends or
true devotees were indeed scarce ("sa mahAtmA sudurlabha:"). When He was about
to take a second helping, Sri Rugmini held His hand, telling Him that whatever
purpose He had in mind had been achieved with the first fistful He had
consumed. Kuchela spent a day of unalloyed enjoyment in the Lord's company, fed
with the choicest of royal delicacies and gourmets' delights, enjoying the
loving ministrations of the royal couple, totally forgetting for the nonce his
usual state of impoverishment and domestic concerns involving his army of unfed
and ill-clad children.
All good things come to an end and so did the blissful visit. With very great
reluctance, Sri Krishna bid au revoir to His soulmate with tears in His eyes,
accompanying Sudhama for just seven steps in the homeward direction, as
prescribed by Shastras. Kuchela's heart was overflowing with the bliss
occasioned by the Lord's uplifting company and had no place for any other
emotion.
After covering quite a distance, it struck him that he had absolutely forgotten
his wife's bidding, to ask Sri Krishna for aid. Thus the principal mission, for
which he had set out as prompted by the better half, remained unaccomplished
and he would return empty-handed, bearing nothing but disappointment and dismay
for the family waiting for him with bated breath in eager anticipation of the
gifts he would be bearing them from Dwarakadeesa. His joy at the reunion with
Sri Krishna had been so great that he had totally forgotten to ask the Lord for
anything.
A stray thought occurred to him. True, he had not sought alms from Krishna: but
wasn't the all-knowing Emperor perceptive enough to appreciate his predicament
and poverty? If He was, why did He not offer His friend even a single coin,
leave alone riches, to alleviate the obvious suffering Sudhama was undergoing?
Were the sweet words, the tears of joy and the expressions of endearment all
confined to the lips, without reaching the heart and, more important, the purse?
Sudhama instantly dismissed the thought as unworthy, preferring to focus his
reflections on the boundless bliss resulting from the reunion, which was its
own reward and would sustain him till the next meeting with the Lord, whenever
that happened. True to the saying "ParamAtmani yO rakta: virakta:
aparamAtmani", Sudhama bothered little about matters other than Bhagavat
anubhavam, totally leaving his dEha yAtra in the hands of the Almighty.
Approaching his home, such as it was, Sudhama steeled himself to tell his wife
of his failure to garner any aid or assistance. When he drew near, he was
astounded to find that his modest hut had disappeared and there stood in its
place a palatial residence fit for royalty. Nor were his wife and children,
instantly recognisable from their ill-fitting and torn apparel, anywere to be
found. Accepting this as one more cruel arrow from the apparently unlimited
armoury of fate, Sudhama resigned himself to the possibility of some rich man
having taken a fancy to his humble plot of land and having constructed a
mansion, after driving away the poor family with probably a pittance as
compensation. To his utter amazement, however, he found his wife coming out of
the mansion, welcoming him with open arms. And he could hardly recognize her,
for she was clad in the finest of apparel, bedecked with glittering jewelry
from head to foot. Gone were the signs of crippling poverty and killing penury,
replaced by all outward symbols of unlimited prosperity. His children too were
obviously beneficiaries of the same phenomenon, for they looked very much like
Princes and Princesses right out of a palace.
Sudhama rubbed his eyes in disbelief, demanding an immediate explanation from
his wife for the magical transformation from poverty to prosperity. The tale
she had to tell was equally astonoshing, for all she could recount was the
sudden and inexplicable change, miraculously converting their humble hut into a
palatial mansion filled with riches beyond imagination. It was then that
Sudhama remembered Sri Krishna's snatching and partaking of the trivial "aval"
with great gusto. This was the fabulous prize the Lord had showered on them in
return for just a fistful of aval, offered with all affection. Tears flowed
freely from Sudhama's eyes, overwhelmed by the Lord's boundless munificence.
The unlimited wealth attained suddenly and without effort, wrought absolutely
no change in the brahmin's demeanour or conduct, and he continued to be as
happy in the mansion as he was earlier in the dilapidated cottage. Sudhama
continued his life of blissful contemplation of Sri Krishna and His kalyANa
guNAs, and in time, attained the Lord's lotus feet for an eternal life of
joyous service.
"Patram pushpam phalam tOyam yO mE bhaktyA prayacchati
tadaham bhaktyupahritam asnAmi prayatAtmana:"
"anyat poorNAt apAm kumbhAt anyat pAdAvanEjanAt
anyat kusala samprasnAt na cha icchati JanArdana:"
"YA; kriyA; samprayuktA: syu: EkAnta gata buddhibhi:
tA: sarvA; shirasA dEva: pratigrihNati vai svayam"
"aNu api upahritam bhaktai: mama bhOgAya jAyatE
bhooryapi abhaktO upahritam tanna mE bhOgAya jAyatE"
Srimate Sri LakshmINrsimha divya paduka sevaka Srivan Satakopa Sri Narayana
Yatindra Mahadesikaya nama:
Dasan, sadagopan
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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