Vageesh Express
Fable of the Month
The Sadhu
- Monisha Mukundan
Akbar
came to the throne when he was only thirteen years old. In the years that
followed, he built one of the greatest empires of his time. He lived in
unimaginable splendor. He was surrounded by courtiers who agreed with every
word he said, who flattered him and treated him as if he were God. Perhaps it
was not surprising that Emperor Akbar was sometimes arrogant and behaved as if
the whole world belonged to him. One day, Birbal decided to make the great
emperor stop and think about life.
That
evening as the emperor was going towards his palace, he noticed a sadhu lying
in the centre of his garden. He could not believe his eyes to see a strange
sadhu, in ragged clothes, right in the middle of the palace garden. The guards
would have to be punished for this, thought the emperor furiously as he walked
over to the sadhu and prodded him with the tip of his embroidered slipper.
"Here, fellow!" he cried. "What are you doing here? Get up and
go away at once!" The sadhu opened his eyes. Then he sat up slowly.
"Huzoor," he said in a sleepy voice. "Is this your garden,
then?" "Yes!" cried the
Emperor. "This garden, those rose bushes, the fountain beyond that, the
courtyard, the palace, this fort, this empire, it all belongs to
me!".
Slowly
the sadhu stood up. "And the river, Huzoor? And the city of
"Yes,
yes, it's all mine", said the emperor. "Now get out!"
"Ah", said the sadhu. "And before you, Huzoor. Who did the garden
and fort and city belong to then?"
"My
father, of course", said the emperor. In spite of his irritation. He was
beginning to get interested in the sadhu's questions. He loved philosophical
discussions and he could tell, from his manner of speaking, that the sadhu was
a learned man. "And who was here before him?" the sadhu asked
quietly. "His father, my father's father, as you know."
"Ah", said the sadhu. So this garden, those rose bushes, the palace
and the fort all this has only belonged to you for your lifetime. Before that
they belonged to your father, am I right? And after yours time they will belong
to your son, and then to his son?
"Yes",
said the Emperor Akbar wonderingly. "So each one stays here for a time and
then goes on his ways?" "Yes."
"Like a dharmashala?" the sadhu
asked. "No one owns a dharmashala. Or the shade of a tree on the side of a
road. We stop and rest for a while and then go on. And someone has always been
there before us and someone will always come after we have gone. Is that not
so?"
"It
is", Emperor Akbar quietly. "So your garden, your palace, your fort,
your empire... these are only places you will stay in for a time, for the span
of your lifetime.
When
you die, they will no longer belong to you. You will go, leaving them in the
possession of someone else, just as your father did and his father before
him." Emperor Akbar nodded. "The whole world is a dharmashala",
he said slowly, thinking very hard. "In which we mortals rest awhile.
That's what you are telling me, isn't it? Nothing on this earth can ever belong
to a single person, because each person is only passing through the earth and
must die one day?"
The
sadhu nodded solemnly. Then, bowing to the ground, he removed his white beard
and saffron turban and his voice changed. "Jahanpanah, forgive me!"
he said, in his normal voice. "It was my way of asking you to think
about..." "Birbal, oh,
Birbal!" the emperor exclaimed. "You are wiser than any philosopher.
Come, come at once to the royal chamber and let us discuss this further. Even
emperors are but wayfarers on the path of life, it is clear!"
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