Part 12: Bāhubali becomes a sādhu and attains omniscience

Saying this, noble, first of those acting quickly, with the same fist (raised to strike) he tore the hair out of his head like grass. With joyful exclamations of “Well done! Well done!” the gods rained flowers above Bāhubali. He considered, “Shall I take the great vows and go now to my father’s lotus-feet? Yet, I will not go, since I would be inferior in rank to my younger brothers who took the vows earlier and possess knowledge. After I have consumed here the destructive karmas by the fire of meditation and have attained kevalajñāna, I shall go to the Master’s assembly.” Thinking this, proud, he stood in that very spot in kāyotsarga, his arms hanging down, like a jeweled image.

When Bharata saw him like that and considered his own wicked actions, he bent his neck as if to enter the earth. He bowed to his brother who was like the emotion (rasa) of tranquillity personified, pouring forth the remains of his anger, as it were, by warm tears from his eyes. Bharata, bowing with the desire to do especial worship to him, was multiplied, as it were, by reflections in the mirrors of his nails. Then he uttered self-reproaches accompanied by praise of the merits of the muni, Sunandā’s son, the healing-herb for the disease of his evil-speaking, “You are blessed, you who abandon sovereignty through compassion for me. I am wicked since, dissatisfied and arrogant, I attacked you. I am chief of those who misjudge their own power, who commit crime, and who are overcome by greed. People who do not know that sovereignty is the seed of the tree of worldly existence are on the lowest plane. I am distinguished among them, since I do not abandon it, even though knowing this. You alone are our father’s son, since you have followed our father’s path. I would be his son, also, if I became like you.” After destroying the mud of depression by the waters of repentance, he established his son, Somayaśas, in the kingdom. That was the beginning of the Soma-line filled with a hundred branches, the only source of various men-jewels. Then bowing to Bāhubali, Bharata and his retinue went to the city Ayodhyā which was like a sister of the Śrī of sovereignty.

The blessed muni, Bāhubali, remained there alone, as if sprung up from the earth, as if fallen from the sky. Devoted to meditation, his eyes fixed on the end of his nose, motionless, the muni appeared like a signpost. Like a forest-tree his body endured the wind in the hot season spreading hot grains of sand like grains of fire. Plunged in the nectar of good meditation, he was unconscious of the sun in the middle of the hot season, like a fire-pit, over his head. Covered from head to foot with mud made from dust and perspiration caused by the heat, he looked like a boar that had come out of mud. In the rainy season he was no more disturbed by streams of water than a mountain by trees shaken by wind and rain. He was not shaken from kāyotsarga nor from meditation by the flashes of lightning nor by the mountain-peaks shaken by thunder-storms. Both of his feet were covered with moss caused by dripping water, like the steps of a deserted village-tank. In the winter season in which elephant-deep streams were frozen, he remained comfortable from the fire of meditation active in burning the fuel of karma. On winter nights when trees were frozen by cold, Bāhubali’s pious meditation bloomed especially, like jasmines.^[1]

Forest-buffaloes scratched themselves on him just as on the trunk of a huge tree, at the same time splitting their horns. Families of rhinoceroses experienced the delight of sleep at night resting with their bodies on his body, just as on a mountain-side. Elephants, pulling at his hands and feet with the idea they were olibanum-shoots, were often embarrassed, unable to pull them up. Herds of yaks, their faces upturned, licked him fearlessly with tongues that were dreadful from their rough surfaces like saws. He was surrounded completely by creepers with a hundred branches shooting up, like a drum by leather thongs. Dense clusters of reeds grew up and around him, which had the appearance of quivers filled with arrows that had come from the power of former affection. Abundant darbha-grass filled with moving centipedes grew up around his feet buried in the mud of the rainy season. Hawks, sparrows, etc., in harmony with each other, made nests on his body covered with creepers. Thousands of serpents hid in the thickets of creepers, terrified by the call of the forest peacocks. Bāhubali looked as if he had a thousand arms from hanging serpents fastened to his body. His feet were surrounded by serpents, like anklets, that had left the ant-hill near his feet. As he stood thus in meditation, a year passed without food, like that of Vṛṣabha Svāmin when he was wandering.

When the year was completed, Vṛṣabha-bannered, the Blessed One, kind to all, summoned Brāhmī and Sundarī and said: “Now Bāhubali, much of whose karma is destroyed, is like the fourteenth night of the bright fortnight, almost devoid of darkness. He does not attain kevalajñāna because of pride, a division of deluding-karma. One can not see an object hidden by a curtain. At the speech of you two, now he will abandon pride at once. Go. Verily, the time for his instruction is at hand.” After taking the command on their heads and bowing at the Lord’s feet, Brāhmī and Sundarī went to Bāhubali. Although he knew his pride, the Lord had been indifferent for a year. For the Arhats, whose purposes are unconfused, give advice at the right time.

The high-born ladies went to that place (where Bāhubali was) and did not see at all the muni covered with vines, like a jewel covered with dust. Standing like that, not the least different from the trees, they perceived him with difficulty after making a repeated search. After observing him closely, they made pradakṣiṇā three times, paid homage to the great muni, Bāhubali, and spoke as follows: “The Blessed One, your father, sends you this message, noble elder brother, ‘Kevala can not arise in those seated on an elephant’s shoulder.’” After saying this, the two ladies went as they had come.

The mahātma, astonished inwardly, reflected, “How am I sitting on an elephant, when I am like a tree in this forest, engaged in kāyotsarga, all censurable activity abandoned? These disciples of the Blessed One say nothing which is untrue, so what does this mean? O h,now I know at last. I said, ‘Who will pay homage to his younger brothers, seniors in the vow?’ That pride is an elephant and I am seated firmly on it. Though engaged in attendance on the Guru of the Three Worlds for a long time, discernment was lacking to me, like swimming to a crab. I did not desire to pay homage to the mahātmas, my own brothers who had taken the vow first, because they were younger. Now I shall go and pay homage to the great munis.” With these reflections, he, noble, took a step, and at that very step kevalajñāna became manifest, the destructive karmas being completely snapped like a row of creepers. With complete knowledge and belief manifest, with a tranquil appearance, he went to the Master’s presence, like the moon before the sun. After making the pradakṣiṇā to the Tīrthakṛt and bowing to the congregation, the great muni, entitled to homage from the world, his vow fulfilled, sat down in the assembly of kevalins.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

In India the jasmine blooms daring the winter.