A sword over your head
Once there lived a monk in ancient India. Every time the monk asked his guru to give him Bramha gyan (Ultimate Spiritual Knowledge), the guru would tell him to go and meet King Janak. This was baffling to the monk’s mind.
Here he was, a renunciate and disciple to a rishi, yet all his guru told him was go to a king, a worldly person, a bhogi. The monk had heard strange things but a yogi going to a bhogi was unheard of. But since the guru refused to be of any help beyond uttering the same instruction, the monk went half-heartedly.
As the monk trudged reluctantly towards Janak’s palace, his feet retreated many times. He was still undecided whether to follow his guru’s instruction or not. The idea of a king giving a renunciate spiritual knowledge was unpalatable. The indecision prolonged for the entire day. Before long it was evening and getting dark. The monk realised that since the nearest place he could stay was Janak’s palace, he reluctantly plodded towards it.
When he was taken to meet the king at the royal court, the opinion he had about the king only solidified. Before him was the crass display of wealth and senses. Men were making merry by drinking and enjoying a dance, which was vulgar to the monk’s eyes. Everything was revolting to him.
Even though Janak respectfully welcomed the monk, the latter hated every minute he stayed at that ‘crass’ environment. Soon, the dance was over and Janak led the monk to the guest room. He told the monk to have a hearty meal and sleep, promising to meet him in the morning.
The guest dining room was ornate and to the monk’s eyes everything seemed gaudy. First of the surprises awaited him. When he sat eating the dinner, he noticed that a sword was hanging above him from the ceiling. It was unnerving. He finished the food fast without noticing what was being served on the golden plate. He knew the king’s men had served him the best food, but he could not concentrate on the food what with the sword above his head.
The second shock awaited him when he slept. Exactly like in the dining room, the monk saw a similar sword above the bed. This time he noticed the sword clearly. It was tied to a thin thread and it seemed even a small flutter could snap the thread making the sword dive straight on to the monk’s heart, either piercing through it or injuring him grievously. He found it preposterous. Is this a way to welcome a guest? Forget giving him spiritual wisdom, it seemed the king needed some basic education to be a good host.
Next morning, the monk was ready to leave when King Janak met him. The monk had decided not to broach the subject of the previous night, but when the king enquired whether he had good food and rest, he could take it any more. He asked the king in a tongue in cheek fashion if ‘good food and rest’ meant enjoying naked swords dangling above one’s head.
Janak laughed and told him that’s how he himself lead his life. Janak asked him that despite all the comforts, wasn’t his mind always on the sword? The monk nodded. Janak said like the swords above him at the dining room and the bed, he was ever aware of death looming large over his head. He knew that everything around was momentary and would disappear the moment the sword named ‘death’ fell on him.
Janak said that if people lead their lives with such awareness, it would be the real ‘spiritual existence’. In that moment the monk understood why his guru kept insisting on him meeting King Janak.
Here he was, a renunciate and disciple to a rishi, yet all his guru told him was go to a king, a worldly person, a bhogi. The monk had heard strange things but a yogi going to a bhogi was unheard of. But since the guru refused to be of any help beyond uttering the same instruction, the monk went half-heartedly.
As the monk trudged reluctantly towards Janak’s palace, his feet retreated many times. He was still undecided whether to follow his guru’s instruction or not. The idea of a king giving a renunciate spiritual knowledge was unpalatable. The indecision prolonged for the entire day. Before long it was evening and getting dark. The monk realised that since the nearest place he could stay was Janak’s palace, he reluctantly plodded towards it.
When he was taken to meet the king at the royal court, the opinion he had about the king only solidified. Before him was the crass display of wealth and senses. Men were making merry by drinking and enjoying a dance, which was vulgar to the monk’s eyes. Everything was revolting to him.
Even though Janak respectfully welcomed the monk, the latter hated every minute he stayed at that ‘crass’ environment. Soon, the dance was over and Janak led the monk to the guest room. He told the monk to have a hearty meal and sleep, promising to meet him in the morning.
The guest dining room was ornate and to the monk’s eyes everything seemed gaudy. First of the surprises awaited him. When he sat eating the dinner, he noticed that a sword was hanging above him from the ceiling. It was unnerving. He finished the food fast without noticing what was being served on the golden plate. He knew the king’s men had served him the best food, but he could not concentrate on the food what with the sword above his head.
The second shock awaited him when he slept. Exactly like in the dining room, the monk saw a similar sword above the bed. This time he noticed the sword clearly. It was tied to a thin thread and it seemed even a small flutter could snap the thread making the sword dive straight on to the monk’s heart, either piercing through it or injuring him grievously. He found it preposterous. Is this a way to welcome a guest? Forget giving him spiritual wisdom, it seemed the king needed some basic education to be a good host.
Next morning, the monk was ready to leave when King Janak met him. The monk had decided not to broach the subject of the previous night, but when the king enquired whether he had good food and rest, he could take it any more. He asked the king in a tongue in cheek fashion if ‘good food and rest’ meant enjoying naked swords dangling above one’s head.
Janak laughed and told him that’s how he himself lead his life. Janak asked him that despite all the comforts, wasn’t his mind always on the sword? The monk nodded. Janak said like the swords above him at the dining room and the bed, he was ever aware of death looming large over his head. He knew that everything around was momentary and would disappear the moment the sword named ‘death’ fell on him.
Janak said that if people lead their lives with such awareness, it would be the real ‘spiritual existence’. In that moment the monk understood why his guru kept insisting on him meeting King Janak.
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