Part 12: Marudevī’s omniscience and death

From here the Lord of Bharata, polite, went to Vinītā to pay homage to Marudevā at daybreak. Bharata bowed to her, his paternal grandmother, whose lotus-eyes were injured by disease caused by unceasing tears on account of the separation from her son, announcing himself, “Your eldest grandson bows at your lotus-feet, O Lady.” Lady Marudevā gave her blessing to Bharata and uttered a speech that was like the sorrow that would not be contained within her heart. “My son, leaving me, you, the earth, his subjects, and wealth, as if they were straw, has gone away alone. Alas! Marudevī does not die easily (or she would have died of grief). Formerly, my son’s head was shaded from (even) the heat of the moon by an umbrella; now his whole body is burned by the heat of the sun. Formerly, my son traveled by conveyances with pleasurable gaits, such as elephants, etc.; now he goes on foot in a way suitable for guides. Formerly, there were beautiful chauris waved by courtesans: now my son is attacked by gnats; mosquitoes, etc. Formerly, he lived on divine food brought by the gods; now his food is alms and, just now, even no food at all. Formerly, there was a splendid seat on a jeweled lion-throne: now my son, like a rhinoceros, does not sit at all. Formerly, his abode was in a city protected by guards and bodyguards; now my son’s abode is in a forest, the home of lions, snakes, and evil wild animals. Then there was singing by Apsarases, an elixir of nectar for the ears; now the howls of jackals pierce my son’s ears. Oh, the misery, the misery to think that in the rainy season my son endures floods, like a tender bed of lotuses. In the winter season, he is constantly reduced to a state of misery from subjection to cold, like a jasmine-stalk in the forest. In the hot season, he experiences extreme burning from the cruel rays of the sun, like an elephant. So in all seasons, dwelling in the forest without shelter, like a low person, alone, my son is an object of sorrow. Seeing my son, as if he were before my eyes, burdened with pain, I torment you too, alas! by constantly speaking in this way.”

Folding his hands and raising them, the King spoke to Lady Marudevī burdened with sorrow in a voice resembling new nectar. “Why do you grieve thus, O Lady, when you have become the mother of my father who is a mountain of fortitude, whose nature is adamant, the crest-jewel of the noble? My father, intent upon crossing the ocean of saṃsāra quickly, justly abandoned us, who were like rocks tied to his neck. By the power of the Lord wandering in the forest, even wild animals are not able to cause any trouble, as if they were made of stone. Whatever troubles are hard to endure, such as hunger, thirst, heat, they are like allies of my father for the destruction of the enemy karma. If you are not convinced by my speech, nevertheless, you will be convinced by the news of the festival for my father’s newly manifested omniscience.”

Just then, two men, named Yamaka and Śamaka, approached and were announced to the King by the King’s door-keeper. Bowing, Yamaka announced to the Lord of Bharata, “You have cause for congratulation today, Your Majesty, in the news of the kalyāṇa. In the city Purimatāla in the grove Śakaṭānana, Holy Yugādinātha’s kevala became manifest.” Śamaka, bowing, announced in a loud tone, “Now the cakra-jewel has appeared in the armory.” “On the one hand is my father whose kevala is manifested; on the other hand, the cakra. Which shall I worship first?” The King considered for a moment. Reflecting, “Whereas my father gives fearlessness to all, the cakra causes destruction of life,” he gave orders to his people for a pūjā to the Master. After giving them a suitably magnificent gratuity, the King dismissed the men and said to Marudevā, “O Lady, you always used these compassionate words, ‘My son, with alms for food, alone, is an object of sorrow.’ Now see the glory of your son, who possesses the lordship of the three worlds.” Saying this, he mounted her on an elephant.

Then he set out with horses and elephants ornamented with gold, diamonds, and rubies, with infantry, and chariots made of embodied wealth, as it were. As he went along with the soldiers having moving festoons made by the heaps of splendor from their ornaments, the King saw from afar the jeweled-banner^[1] ahead. Then Bharata said to Marudevā, “O Lady, that in the distance is the Lord’s samavasaraṇa, built by the gods. You hear a tumult of cries of ‘Hail! Hail!’ of gods who have come to the festival of worshipping my father’s lotus-feet. This drum, sounding in the sky, deep and sweet, O Mother, spreads the Lord’s heart’s joy, like a bard. The loud sound of bells starting in the palaces of the gods who are praising the Master’s lotus-feet is the guest of our ears. The lion’s roar of the gods delighted at the sight of the Master is heard in the sky, like thunder of the thunder-clouds. This song of the Gandharvas, purified by grāmarāgas, like a slave of the Master’s speech, nourishes our joy today.”

Then the eye-disease was washed away like mud by Lady Marudevī’s copious tears of joy, when she heard this. She saw her son’s Tirthakṛt-splendor accompanied by the supernatural powers, and from joy at the sight of that, her absorption-in-that took place. She mounted at once the kṣapakaśreṇi and, the eight karmas being destroyed, she attained omniscience at once from the eighth guṇasthāna. While still seated on the elephant’s shoulder, the Mistress Marudevī attained mokṣa simultaneously with death and omniscience. She was the first person to attain mokṣa in this avasarpiṇī. The gods deposited her body in the Ocean of Milk after performing rites. From that time funeral rites existed among the people. Whatever the great do, that becomes a custom. When the King knew of her mokṣa, he was penetrated by joy and sorrow, like the autumn season by shade of the cloud and heat of the sun.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

One of the atiśayas. See n. 11.