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“TheIndianLife”,HermannHesse

When Vishnu, or rather Vishnu in his avatar as Rama,fought his savage battles with the prince of demons, one of hisparts took on human shape and thus entered the cycle of formsoncemore.HisnamewasRavanaandhelivedasawarlikeprinceby the Great Ganges. Ravana had a son named Dasa. But themother of Dasa died young, and the prince took another wife.Soonthisbeauteousandambitiousladyhadasonofherown,andshe resented theyoungDasa.Althoughhewas the firstborn, shedeterminedtoseeherownsonNalainherittherulershipwhenthetime came. And so she contrived to estrange Dasa's father fromhim,andmeanttodisposeoftheboyatthefirstopportunity.ButoneofRavana'scourtBrahmans,Vasudeva theSacrificer,becameprivytoherplan.Hewassorryfortheboywho,moreover,seemedtohimtopossesshismother'sbentforpietyandfeelingforjustice.SotheBrahmankeptaneyeonDasa,toseethattheboycametonoharmuntilhecouldputhimoutofreachofhisstepmother.

Now Rajah Ravana owned a herd of cows dedicated toBrahma.Thesewereregardedassacred,andfrequentofferingsoftheirmilkandbutterweremadetothegod.Thebestpastures inthecountrywerereservedforthesecows.

One day a herdsman of these sacred cows came to thepalacetodeliverabatchofbutterandreportthatthereweresigns

ofdrought intheregionwheretheherdhadbeengrazing.Hencethe band of herdsmen were going to lead the cows up into themountains,wherewaterandgrasswereavailableeveninthedriestoftimes.

TheBrahmanhadknowntheherdsmanformanyyearsasafriendly and reliableman.He tookhim intohis confidence.Nextday,whenlittlePrinceDasacouldnotbefound,onlyVasudevaandtheherdsmanknewthesecretofhisdisappearance.TheherdsmantooktheboyDasaintothehillswithhim.Theycaughtupwiththeslowlymovingherd,andDasagladlyjoinedthebandofherdsmen.Hehelpedtoguardanddrivethecows,learnedtomilk,playedwiththe calves, and idled about in the mountain meadows, drinkingsweetmilk,hisbarefeetsmearedwithcow‐dung.Helikedthelifeof the herdsmen, learned to know the forest and its trees andfruits,lovedthemango,thewildfig,andthevaringatree,pluckedthesweetlotusrootoutofgreenforestpools,onfeastdaysworeawreathoftheredblossomsoftheflame‐of‐the‐woods.Hebecameacquainted with the ways of all the animals of the wilderness,learned how to shun the tiger, to make friends with the clevermongoose and the placid hedgehog, and towhile away the rainyseasons in the dusky shelter of a makeshift hut where the boysplayedgames,recitedverse,orwovebasketsandreedmats.Dasadidnotcompletelyforgethisformerhomeandhisformerlife,butsoontheseseemedtohimlikeadream.

Oneday,whentheherdhadmovedontoanotherregion,Dasa went into the forest to look for honey. Ever since he had

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come to know thewoods he had loved them, and this particularforestseemedtohimuncommonlybeautiful.Theraysofsunlightwound through leaves and branches like golden serpents; thenoises of the forest, bird calls, rustle of treetops, jabber ofmonkeys, twined into a lovely, mildly luminescent networkresembling the light amid the branches. Smells, too, similarlyjoined and parted again, the perfumes of flowers, varieties ofwood, leaves, waters, mosses, animals, fruits, earth and mold,pungent and sweet, wild and intimate, stimulating and soothing,gay and sad. In some unseen gorge a stream gurgled; a velvetygreenbutterflywithblackandyellowmarkingsdancedoverwhiteflowers;deepamongtheblueshadowsofthetreesabranchbrokeand leavesdroppedheavily into leaves, or a stagbellowed in thedarkness,oranirritableshe‐apescoldedherfamily.

Dasaforgotaboutlookingforhoney.Whilelisteningtothesingingofseveraljewel‐brightsmallbirds,henoticedatrailrunningbetween tall ferns that stood likeadenseminiature forestwithinthegreatforest.Itwasthenarrowestoffootpaths,andhesilentlyand cautiously pressed between the ferns and followed where itled. After awhile he came upon a great banyan treewithmanytrunks.Beneathitstoodasmallhut,akindoftentwovenoffernleaves.Besidethehutamansatmotionless.Hisbackwasstraightas a rod and his hands lay between his crossed feet. Under thewhite hair and broad forehead his eyes, still and sightless, werefocusedontheground.Theywereopen,butlookinginward.Dasarealized that this was a holy man, a yogi. He had seen othersbefore; theyweremenfavoredbythegods. Itwasgoodtobring

themgiftsandpaythemrespect.Butthismanhere,sittingbeforehis beautifully made and well‐concealed fern hut, so perfectlymotionless, so lost inmeditation,morestronglyattractedtheboyand seemed to him rarer and more venerable than any of theothershehadseen.Heseemedtobefloatingabovethegroundashe sat there, and it was as if his abstracted gaze saw and kneweverything.Anauraofholinesssurroundedhim,amagiccircleofdignity, a flame of concentrated intensity and a wave of radiantyoga energies, which the boy could not pass through, which hewouldnothavedaredtobreachbyawordofgreetingoracry.Themajestyofhis form,the light fromwithinwhichradiatedfromhisface, the composure and bronze unassailability of his features,emanatedwavesandrays inthemidstofwhichhesatenthronedlike a moon; and the accumulated spiritual force, the calmlyconcentratedwill,wovesuchaspellaroundhimthatDasasensedthatherewassomeonewho,byamerewishor thought,withoutevenraisinghiseyes,couldkillandrestoretolife.

Moremotionlessthanatree,whoseleavesandtwigsstirinrespiration,motionless as the stone image of a god, the yogi satbeforehishut;andfromthemomenthehadseenhimtheboytooremained motionless, fascinated, fettered, magically attracted bythesight.HestoodstaringattheMaster.Hesawaspotofsunlightonhisshoulder,aspotofsunlightononeofhisrelaxedhands;hesawtheflecksof lightmoveslowlyawayandnewonescomeintobeing, and he began to understand that the streaks of light hadnothingtodowiththisman,northesongsofbirdsandthechatterof monkeys from the woods all around, nor the brown wild bee

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thatsettledonthesage's face,sniffedathisskin,crawledashortdistance along his cheek, and then flew off again, nor all themultifariouslifeoftheforest.Allthis,Dasasensed,everythingtheeyes could see, the ears could hear, everything beautiful or ugly,engagingorfrightening—allof ithadnoconnectionatall tothisholyman.Rainwouldnot chillor incommodehim; fire couldnotburnhim.Thewholeworldaroundhimhadbecomemeaninglesssuperficiality.Therecameto theprincelycowherdan inkling thatthewholeworldmightbenomore thanabreathofwindplayingoverthesurface,arippleofwavesoverunknowndepths.Hewasnot conscious of this as a thought, but as a physical quiver andslight giddiness, a feeling of horror and danger, and at the sametime of intense yearning. For this yogi, he felt, had plungedthrough the surface of the world, through the superficial world,into the ground of being, into the secret of all things. He hadbrokenthroughandthrownoffthemagicalnetofthesenses,theplay of light, sound, color, and sensation, and lived secure in theessential and unchanging. The boy, although once tutored byBrahmanswhohadcastmanyarayofspirituallightuponhim,didnotunderstandthiswithhisintellectandwouldhavebeenunableto say anything about it inwords, but he sensed it as in blessedmoments one senses the presence of divinity; he sensed it as ashudderofaweandadmirationforthisman,sensed itas loveforhim and longing for a life such as this man sitting in meditationseemedtobe living.Strangely, theoldmanhadremindedhimofhisorigins,ofhisroyalty.Touchedtothequick,hestoodthereonthe edge of the fern thicket, ignoring the flying birds and thewhisperedconversationsofthetrees,forgettingtheforestandthe

distant herd, yielding to the spell while he stared at the sage,captivatedbytheincomprehensiblestillnessandimpassivityoftheman, by the bright serenity of his face, by the power andcomposure of his posture, by the complete dedication of hisservice.

Afterward he could not have said whether he had spenttwoor threehours, or days, at thehut.When the spell releasedhim,whenhenoiselesslycreptbackbetweentheferns,foundthepathoutofthewoods,andfinallyreachedtheopenmeadowsandtheherd,hedidsowithoutbeingawareofwhathewasdoing.Hissoulwasstillentranced,andhedidnotreallycometountiloneoftheherdsmencalledhim.Themanwasangrywithhimforhavingbeenawaysolong,butwhenDasaonlystaredathiminwide‐eyedastonishment,as ifhedidnotunderstandwhatwasbeingsaid tohim, the herdsman broke off, disconcerted by the boy's strangelookand solemnbearing. "Wherehaveyoubeen,myboy?" heasked."Haveyouseenagodbyanychance,orrunintoademon?"

"Iwasinthewoods,"Dasasaid"Somethingdrewmethere;Iwantedtolookforhoney.ButthenIforgotaboutitbecauseIsawaman there, a hermit,who sat lost inmeditation or prayer, andwhenIsawthewayhis faceglowedIcouldnothelpstandingstilland watching him for a long time. I would like to go again thiseveningandbringhimgifts.Heisaholyman."

"Do so," the herdsman said. "Bring him milk and sweetbutter.Weshouldhonortheholymenandgivethemwhatwecan.

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"ButhowamItoaddresshim?"

"There is no need to address him, Dasa. Only bow andplacethegiftsbeforehim.Nomoreisneeded."

Dasadidso.Ittookhimawhiletofindtheplaceagain.Theclearing in frontof thehutwasdeserted, andhedidnotdaregointothehutitself.Hethereforelaidhisgiftsonthegroundattheentranceandleft.

As long as the herdsmen remained with the cows in thisvicinity,Dasabroughtgiftseveryevening,andoncewenttherebyday again. He found the holy man deep in meditation, and thistime too felt impelled to stand there in a state of bliss, receivingthoseraysofstrengthandfelicitythatemanatedfromtheyogi.

Longaftertheyhadlefttheneighborhoodandweredrivingtheherdtonewpastures,Dasarememberedhisexperienceintheforest.Andasisthewayofboys,whenhewasalonehesometimesdaydreamedof himself as a hermit and practitioner of yoga. Butwithtimethememoryandthedreamfaded,allthemoresosinceDasawasnowrapidlygrowingintoastrongyoungmanwhothrewhimselfwith zest into the sports andbrawls of his fellows. But agleam, a faint inkling remained in his soul, a suggestion that theprincely life and the sovereignty he had lost might some day bereplacedbythedignityandpowerofyoga.

Oneday,whentheyhadcometothevicinityofthecapital,they heard that a great festival was in preparation. Old PrinceRavana, bereft of his former strength and grown quite frail, hadappointedthedayforhissonNalatosucceedhim.

Dasawantedtogotothefestival.Hewishedtoseethecityoncemore, for he had only the faintestmemories of it from hischildhood.Hewantedtohearthemusic,towatchtheparadeandthe tournamentamong thenobles;andhealsowanted tohavealook at that unknown world of townsfolk and magnates whofigured so largely in talesand legends, forheknew,although thiswas only a tale or legend or something evenmore insubstantial,thatonceuponatime,agesago,theirworldhadbeenhisown.

Theherdsmenweresupposedtodeliveraloadofbuttertothecourtforthefestivalsacrifices,andtohisjoyDasawasoneofthethreeyoungmenchosenbythechiefherdsmanforthistask.

Theybrought their butter to thepalaceon theeveof thefestival.TheBrahmanVasudeva received it fromthem, for itwashewhohadchargeof thesacrifices,buthedidnot recognize theyouth.Thenthethreeherdsmenjoinedthethrongsattendingthecelebrations. Early in themorning theywatched thebeginningofthesacrificesundertheBrahman'sdirection.Theysawthemassesof shining golden butter given to the flames, watched as it wastransformed into leaping fire; flickering, its light and fatty smokesoared toward the Infinite, adelight to the thrice‐ten gods. Theywatchedtheelephantsleadingtheparade,theirridersinhowdahs

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with gilded roofs. They beheld the flower‐decked royal carriagecontaining the young Rajah Nala, and heard the mightyreverberations of the drums. It was all very magnificent andglittering and also a little ridiculous, or at least that is how itseemed to young Dasa. He was stunned and enraptured,intoxicatedbythenoise,bythecarriagesandcaparisonedhorses,by all the pomp and extravagance; he was also delighted by thedancinggirlswhocavortedinfrontoftheroyalcarriage,theirlimbsslender and tough as lotus stems. Hewas astonished at the sizeandbeautyof thecity,but still andallhe regardedeverything, inthe midst of his excitement and pleasure, with the sober goodsenseoftheherdsmanwhobasicallydespisesthetownsman.

That he himself was really the firstborn, that his stepbrother Nala, whom he had forgotten completely, was beinganointed, consecrated, and hailed in his stead, that he himself,Dasa,oughtbyrightstoberidingintheflower‐deckedcarriage—such thoughtsdidnot evenoccur tohim.On theotherhand, hetook a strong dislike to thisNala; the youngman seemed to himstupid and mean in his self‐indulgence, unbearably vain andswollenwithself‐importance.Hewouldratherhavelikedtoplayatrickonthisyouthacting thepartof rajah, to teachhima lesson;buttherewassurelynoopportunityforanythingofthesort,andinanycasehequicklyforgotallaboutit,fortherewassomuchtosee,tohear, to laughat, toenjoy. The townswomenwereprettyandhadpert,alluring looks,movements,andturnsofspeech.Agoodmanyphraseswereflungatthethreeherdsmenwhichrangintheirearsforalongwhileafterward.Thesephraseswerecalledoutwith

overtonesofmockery, fortownsfolkfeelaboutherdsmenjusttheway herdsmen do about townsfolk: each despises the other. Butstill and all those handsome, stalwart young men, nourished onmilkandcheeseandlivingundertheopenskyalmostalltheyear,weremuchtothelikingofthetownswomen.

By the time Dasa returned from this festival, he hadbecomeaman.Hechasedgirlsandhadtoholdhisowninagoodmanyhardboxingandwrestlingmatcheswithotheryoungfellows.Theywerenowmakingtheirwayintoadifferentregion,aregionofflatmeadowsandwetlandsplanted to rushesandbambootrees.HerehesawagirlbythenameofPravati,andwasseizedbyamadlove for this beautiful young woman. She was a tenant farmer'sdaughter, and Dasa was so infatuated that he forgot everythingelse and threwawayhis freedom in order towin her.When thetime came for theherdsmen tomovealong to freshpastures, hebrushedasideadviceandwarnings,badefarewelltothemandtheherdsman's life he had dearly loved, and settled down. Hesucceeded in winning Pravati as his wife. In return he tilled hisfather‐in‐law'smillet fields and rice paddies, and helpedwith theworkinmillandwoodlot.Hebuiltabambooandmudhutforhiswife,andkepthershutupwithinit.

Itmustbeatremendouspowerthatcanmoveayoungmanto giveuphis previous joys and friends andhabits, to changehisexistence entirely, and to live among strangers in the unenviableroleofson‐in‐law.ButsogreatwasPravati'sbeauty,sogreatandalluring the promise of amorous delights that radiated from her

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face and figure, that Dasa became blind to everything else andsurrendered utterly to this woman. And in fact he found greathappinessinherarms.Manystoriesaretoldofgodsandholymensoenrapturedbyanenchantingwomanthattheyremainlockedinintimate embrace with her for days, moons, and years, whollyabsorbedbyvoluptuousnessandforgettingallothermatters.Dasa,too,wouldhavewishedhislotandhislovetobelikethat.Buthewasdestinedforotherthings,andhishappinessdidnotlastlong.Itlastedaboutayear,andthisperiod,too,wasnotfilledwithpurefelicity. There was ample room for much else, for vexatiousdemands on the part of his father‐in‐law, for the taunts of hisbrothers‐in‐law, and for the whims of his young wife. Butwhenever he went to lie with her on their pallet, all this wasforgotten,vanished intothinair,suchwasthemagicofhersmile,sosweetwasittocaressherslenderlimbs,sowonderfullydidthegarden of delight in her young body bloom with a thousandflowers,fragrances,andlovelyshadows.

Hishappinesswasnotyetawholeyearoldwhen,oneday,noiseandunrest stirred theneighborhood.Mountedmessengersappearedannouncing thecomingof theyoungRajah.Thencametroops,horses, the supply train, and finallyRajahNalahimself, tohuntinthecountryside.Tentswerepitchedhereandthere;horsescouldbeheardneighingandhornsblowing.

Dasapaidnoattentiontoallthis.Heworkedinthefields,tendedthemill,andkeptoutofthewayofhuntersandcourtiers.Butonedaywhenhereturnedtohishuthefoundhiswifemissing.

Hehadstrictlyforbiddenhertosetfootoutsideduringthisperiod,whilethecourtwasintheneighborhood,andnowhefeltatonceastabbingpaininhisheartandapremonitionofdisaster.Hehurriedtohis father‐in‐law'shouse. Pravatiwasnot thereeither, andnoone would admit to having seen her. The pang in his heartintensified.Hesearchedthecabbagepatchandthefields;hespentawholedayandthenanothergoingbackandforthbetweenhishutandhisfather‐in‐law's;helurkedinthefield,climbeddownintothewell,calledhername,coaxed,cursed,huntedforfootprints.

At last theyoungestofhisbrothers‐in‐law,whowasstillaboy,toldhimthetruth.PravatiwaswiththeRajah;shewaslivinginhistentandhadbeenseenridingonhishorse.

Dasa lurked invisibly about Nala's encampment, carryingtheslinghehadusedduringhisdaysasaherdsman.Dayornight,whenevertheprince'stentseemedtobeunguardedforamoment,hewouldstealcloser;buteachtimeguardssoonappearedandhehad to flee.Hiding in thebranchesofa tree,he lookeddownonthecampandsawtheRajah,whoserepellentfaceherememberedfromthe timeof the festival.Dasawatchedhimmounthishorseand ride off. When he returned hours later, dismounted, andthrewbackthetentflap,Dasacouldseeintotheshadowyinteriorwherea youngwoman came forward towelcome theprince.HenearlyfellfromthetreeasherecognizedhiswifePravati.Nowhewas certain, and the pressure upon his heart grew unbearable.Great as the happiness of his love for Pravati had been, theanguish, the rage, the senseof lossand insultweregreaternow.

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Thatishowitiswhenamanfastensallhiscapacityforloveuponasingle object. With its loss everything collapses for him, and hestandsimpoverishedamidruins.

ForadayandanightDasadriftedaboutthewoods intheneighborhood.Hewasutterlyexhausted,butaftereverybriefrestthe misery in his heart lashed him on. He had to stir and keepmoving;hefeltas ifhewouldhavetotrampontotheendoftheworldandtotheendofhislife,whichhadlostallitsmeaningandall its glory. Nevertheless, he did not wander off to distant,unknownregions.He remained in thevicinityofhismisfortunes.He circled about his hut, the mill, the fields, the Rajah's huntingtent. Finally he concealed himself again in the trees overlookingthetent.Hecrouchedinhis leafyhidingplace,bitterandburningasahungrybeastofprey,untilthemomentcameforwhichhehadbeensavinghislastenergies—untiltheRajahsteppedoutsidethetent. Then he slipped silently down from the branch, raised thesling, and struck his enemy squarely in the forehead with thestone.Nala felland laymotionlessonhisback.Thereseemedtobenooneabout.Foramomentthestormofvoluptuous,vengefuldelight that roared through Dasa's senses was checked, fearfullyandstrangely,byaprofoundsilence.Then,beforeaclamorbrokeoutaroundtheslainmanandthespaceinfrontofthetentbegantoswarmwithservants,Dasawasinthewoods,lostinthebamboothicketsthatslopeddowntowardthevalley.

In the delirium of action, as he leaped from the tree andaimed the sling, letting it hurl forth itsdeath,hehad felt as if he

wereextinguishinghis own life also, as if heweredischarginghislast spark of vitality and flinging himself, along with the deadlystone,intotheabyssofannihilation,contenttodieifonlyhishatedfoe fell amoment before him. But now that the deed had beenfollowedby thatunexpectedmomentof silence,a craving for lifewhich he had not realized was in him drew him back from theabyss. A primitive instinct took possession of his senses and hislimbs, drove him into the depths of the woods and the bamboothickets,commandedhimtofleeandhide.

Awarenessofwhatwashappeningcametohimonlyafterhehadreachedarefugeandwassafefromimmediatedanger.Ashecollapsedexhausted,strugglingforbreath,hisfrenzygivingwaytoweaknessandsobriety,hefeltdisappointmentandrevulsionathaving escaped. Butwhenhis breathing slowed andhis dizzinesspassed,thisrepugnanceyieldedtoadefiantdeterminationtolive,andoncemorehisheartgloriedsavagelyinthedeed.

The hunt for the killer began. Soon searchers wereswarming through thewoods. They beat the thickets throughouttheday,andheevaded themonlybecausehekeptutterly still inhis hiding place in themarsh,which no one dared penetrate toodeeply for fear of tigers. He slept a little, lay on the alert for awhile, crawled on a bit, rested again, and by the third day hadmadehiswaybeyond thehills,whencehepushedon toward thehighermountains.

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The homeless life he led thereafter took him here andthere. It made him harder andmore callous, but also wiser andmore resigned. Nevertheless, during the nights he repeatedlydreamedofPravatiandhisformerhappiness,orwhathehadinthepast called his happiness. He also dreamed many times of thepursuit and his flight — frightful, heart‐stopping dreams such asthis:Hewouldbefleeingthroughwoods,thepursuersclosebehindhimwithdrumsandhuntinghorns.Throughforestandswampandbriers, over rotting, collapsing bridges, he would be carryingsomething, a burden, a bale, something wrapped up, concealed,unknown.Allheknewabout itwas that itwaspreciousand thatunder no circumstances must he let it out of his hands; it wassomething valuable and imperiled, a treasure, perhaps somethingstolen,wrapped in a bright clothwith a russet and blue pattern,suchasPravati'sholidaydresshadbeen.Ladenwiththispack,thistreasure,or thesestolengoods,hewouldbefleeingandskulking,amid toil and danger, creeping under low‐hanging branches oroverhanging rocks, stealing past snakes and crossing rivers full ofcrocodilesonvertiginousnarrowplanks,untilatlasthestoppedinexhaustion,fumbledwiththeknotofthestringthattiedhispack,slowlyunwrappedtheclothandspreaditout,andthetreasurehetookoutatlastandheldinshudderinghandswashisownhead.

He led the stealthy life of a vagabond, no longer actuallyfleeing from people, but rather avoiding them. And one day hisroaming ledhimthroughahilly regionof lushgrasswhich lookedlovelyandsereneandseemedtowelcomehim,asthoughheoughtto know it. In one place he recognized a meadow with softly

swaying grasses in flower, in another a willow grove whichreminded himof the serene and innocent dayswhen he had notyet known love and jealousy, hatred and revenge. It was thepastureland where he had once tended the herd with hiscompanions; that had been the most untroubled period of hisyouth. Now he looked back upon it across vast chasms ofirrevocability.Asweetmelancholyinhisheartansweredthevoicesthatwelcomedhimhere,thewindflutteringthesilverywillows,thejollysongofthelittlebrooks,thetrillingofthebirds,andthedeepgoldenbuzzofbumblebees. Itallsoundedandsmelledofrefuge,home; never before, used as he was to the roaming herdsman'slife,hadheeverfeltthatacountrysidewassohomelike,somuchpartofhim.

Accompanied and guided by these voices in his soul,withfeelings like thoseofa soldierhome fromthewars,hewanderedabout this pleasant landscape, for the first time inmany terriblemonthsnotastranger,afugitive,acandidatefordeath,butwithanopen heart, thinking of nothing, desiring nothing, surrenderingutterly to the tranquilpresent,gratefulandsomewhatastonishedathimselfandatthisnew,unwonted,rapturousstateofmind,thisundemanding receptivity, this serenitywithout tensions, this newmodeof takingdelight incloseobservation.He feltdrawnto theforestwhich laybeyondthegreenmeadows. Inamongthetrees,amidtheduskspeckledbysunlight, thefeelingofreturninghomeintensified,andledhimalongpathswhichhisfeetseemedtofindbythemselves,untilhepassedthroughafernthicket,adenselittleforestoffernsinthemidstofthegreaterwoods,andreachedatiny

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hut. On the ground in front of the hut sat the motionless yogiwhomhehadoncewatched,andtowhomhehadbroughtmilkandbutter.

Dasastopped,asifhehadjustawakened.Everythingherewasthesameas ithadbeen;herenotimehadpassed,therehadbeennokillingandsuffering.Here, it seemed, timeand lifewerehardascrystal,frozenineternity.Hestoodlookingattheoldman,andtherereturnedtohisheartthatadmiration, love,and longingwhichhehadfeltuponhisfirstsightoftheyogi.Helookedatthehutand thought that itprobablyneeded some repairsbefore theonsetof thenext rainy season. Thenhe ventureda fewcautiousstepsforward.Heenteredthehutandpeeredaround.Therewaslittle there, almost nothing: a pallet of leaves, a gourd containingsomewater,andanemptypouchmadeofbast.Hetookthepouchandwentintothewoodssearchingforfood.Hereturnedwithfruitand the sweet pith of certain trees. Then he went off with thegourdandfilleditwithfreshwater.

Nowhehaddoneallthatcouldbedonehere.Therewassolittleamanneededto live.Dasakneeledonthegroundandsankintoreveries.Hewascontentwiththissilentreposeanddreaminginthewoods,contentwithhimself,withthevoicewithinhimthathad led himherewhere as a boy he hadonce sensed somethinglikepeace,happiness,andhome.

Andsohe remainedwith thesilentyogi.He renewed thepalletof leaves, found food for the twoof them,repairedtheold

hut,andbeganbuildingasecondforhimselfashortdistanceaway.The oldman appeared to tolerate him, but Dasa could not quitemakeoutwhetherhehadactually takennoticeofhim.Whenherosefromhismeditation,itwasonlyinordertogotosleepinthehut,toeatabite,ortowalkabitinthewoods.Dasalivedwithhimlikeaservant in thepresenceofanobleman,or rather thewayasmallpet,atamebirdoramongoose,say,livesalongwithhumanbeings, useful and scarcely noticed. Since he had been a fugitivefor so long, unsure of himself, suffering pangs of conscience,seeking concealment and perpetually fearing pursuit, this life ofrepose,theeffortlesssmalllaborsandthepresenceofamanwhodid not seem to notice him, did him a great deal of good for awhile.Hissleepwasnottroubledbyfrightfuldreams;forhalfandthen whole days at a time he forgot what had happened. Thefuturedidnotenterhismind,andifeveralongingordesirecametohim,itwastoremainwherehewas,tobeacceptedbytheyogiand initiated into the secret of a hermit's life, to become a yogihimself and partake of the proud indifference of yoga. He hadbegunto imitatethevenerableascetic'sposture,tositmotionlesslike himwith crossed legs, like him to gaze into anunknownandsuperrealworld,andtocultivateapathytoeverythingaroundhim.Whenever hemade such attempts, he tired quickly; he foundhislimbs stiff and his back aching, was plagued by mosquitoes orbotheredbyallsortsofitchesandtwitcheswhichcompelledhimtomove,toscratchhimself,andfinallytostandupagain.Butseveraltimes he had felt something different, a sense of emptiness,lightness,andfloatinginair,suchassometimescomesindreamsinwhich we touch the ground only lightly now and then, gently

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pushingofffromittodriftlikeawispoffluff.Atsuchmomentshehadaninklingofwhatitmustbeliketofloataboutthatwayallthetime,bodyandsouldivestingthemselvesofallweightandsharingthe movements of a greater, purer, sunnier life, exalted andabsorbedbyabeyond,bytimelessnessandimmutability.Buttheseintimations had lasted only a moment. And every time heplummeted back into his ordinary self, disappointed, he thoughtthathemustpersuadethemastertobecomehisteacher,toinitiatehimintohisexercisesandsecretartsandmakeayogiofhimalso.Buthowwashetodothat?Itdidnotseemasiftheoldmanwouldever notice him, that therewould ever be an exchange ofwordsbetweenthem.Justastheyogiseemedbeyondthedayandhour,beyondtheforestandhut,healsoseemedbeyondallwords.

Nevertheless,onedayhespokeaword.Therecameatimeduring which Dasa again dreamt night after night, oftenbewilderingly sweet and often bewilderingly dreadful dreams,eitherofhiswifePravatiorthehorrorsoflifeasafugitive.Andbyday he made no progress, could not long endure sitting andpracticing, could not help thinking about women and love. Hetrampedabouttheforestagreatdeal.Heblamedtheweatherforhiscondition;theseweresultrydayswithsuddengustsofhotwind.

Onemoresuchbaddaycame.Themosquitoeshummed.Dasahadhadanotherofhisanguisheddreamsthatlefthimwithasense of fear and oppression. He no longer remembered it, butupon waking it seemed to him that it had been a wretched,outrageous,andshamefulrelapse intoearlierstatesandstagesof

hislife.Alldaylonghemovedrestivelyaboutthehut,orsquattedgloomily. He dabbed at odd tasks, several times sat down formeditationexercises,butwouldeachtimebeseizedbya feverishunrest.Hislimbstwitched,hefeltasifantswerecrawlingoverhisfeet, had a burning sensation in the nape of his neck, and wasunabletoendurestillnessformorethanafewmoments.Nowandthenhecastshyandashamedglancesat theoldman,whosat inthe perfect posture, eyes turned inward, face floating above hisbodyininviolableserenityliketheheadofaflower.

Onthisday,whentheyogiroseandturnedtowardthehut,Dasawent up to him. He hadwaited long for thismoment, andnowblockedhiswayandwiththecourageoffearaddressedhim.

"Forgivemefordisturbingyourpeace,reverendfather,"hesaid."Iamseekingpeace,tranquility;Iwouldliketoliveasyoudoand become like you. As you see, I am still young, but I havealreadytastedmuchsuffering.Destinyhasplayedcruellywithme.Iwasborn tobe a prince and cast out tobecomeaherdsman. Ibecame a herdsman, grewup, strong and happy as a young bull,innocentinmyheart.Thenmyeyeswereopenedtowomen,andwhen I beheld the most beautiful of them, I put my life at herservice. Not to possess her would have killed me. I left mycompanions,theherdsmen.IsuedforPravati'shand,wasgrantedit,becameason‐in‐law,andlaboredhardforher.ButPravatiwasmineandlovedme,orsoIthought.EveryeveningIreturnedtoherarms, lay upon her heart. Then, behold, the Rajah came to theneighborhood,thesameonwhoseaccountIhadbeencastoutasa

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child.HecameandtookPravatifromme;Iwascondemnedtoseeher in his arms. That was the greatest agony I have everexperienced;itchangedmeandmywholelife.IslewtheRajah.Ikilledandledthelifeofacriminalandfugitive.Everyman'shandwasagainstme;my lifewasnot safe foranhouruntil I stumbleduponthisplace. Iamafoolishman,reverendfather; Iamakillerandperhapsmaystillbecaughtanddrawnandquartered.Icannolongerendurethisterriblelife;Iwanttobedonewithit."

The yogi had listened quietly to this outburst, withdowncast eyes. Now he opened them and fixed his gaze uponDasa's face,abright,piercing,almostunbearably firm,composed,and lucid gaze. And while he studied Dasa's face, seeminglypondering his tale, hismouth slowly twisted into a smile, then alaugh.Soundlessly laughing,heshookhishead,andsaid:"Maya!Maya!"

Utterlybewilderedandshamed,Dasastoodstockstill.Theyogi,beforehiseveningmeal,tookashortwalkonthenarrowpaththat led into the ferns.With quiet, rhythmic step he paced backand forth. After several hundredpaces, he returnedandenteredhis hut. His face was once more as it had always been, turnedtowardsomethingotherthantheworldofappearances.Whathadbeen the meaning of the laugh breaking through that impassivecountenance? Had that terrible laughter at Dasa's anguishedconfession and plea been benevolent or mocking, comforting orcondemning, divine or demonic? Had it beenmerely the cynicalbleatofanoldmannolongerabletotakethingsseriously,orthe

amusement of a sage at another's folly? Had it been rejection,farewell, dismissal? Or was it meant as advice, an invitation toDasatofollowhisexampleandjoininhislaughter?Dasacouldnotsolve the riddle. Late into the night he continued to ponder themeaningof this laughterwithwhich theoldmanseemedtohavesummed up his life, his happiness, and his misery. His thoughtschewedonitasifitwereatoughrootthatsomehowhadahiddensavor. And likewise he chewed upon and pondered and mulledover the word that the old man had called out so loudly, solaughingly and gaily andwith such incomprehensible amusement:"Maya!Maya!" Hehalfknew,halfguessedthegeneralmeaningoftheword,andtheintonationthelaughingoldmanhadgivenitseemedalso to suggest ameaning.Maya— thatwasDasa's life,Dasa's youth, Dasa's sweet felicity and bitter misery. BeautifulPravati was Maya; love and its delights were Maya; all life wasMaya.TotheeyesofthisyogiDasa'slife,allmen'slives,everythingwas Maya, was a kind of childishness, a spectacle, theater, anillusion,emptinessinbrightwrappings,asoapbubble—somethingonecouldlaughatandatthesametimedespise,butbynomeanstakeseriously.

But although the yogimight be able to dismissDasa's lifewithlaughterandthewordMaya,Dasahimselfcouldnot.Muchashemightwish to become a laughing yogi himself, and to see hisown life as nothing but Maya, the whole of that life had beenrousedinhimoncemoreduringtheserestivedaysandnights.Herememberednowall the thingshehadnearly forgottenwhenhefoundrefugehereafterthestressesofhislifeasafugitive.There

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seemedtohimonlytheslightesthopethathewouldeverbeableto learntheartofyoga, letalonetobecomeasadeptat itas theoldmanhimself.Butthen—whatwasthesenseofhislingeringinthis forest? Ithadbeenanasylum;hehad recuperatedabitandgathered strength, had come to his senses somewhat. That wassomething,wasinfactagreatdeal.AndperhapsoutinthecountrythehuntfortheRajah'smurdererhadendedandhecouldcontinuehiswanderingswithoutanygreatdanger.

Hedecidedtodoso.Hewoulddepartnextday.Theworldwasvast;hecouldnotremaininthishidingplaceforever.

Thisdecisiongavehimameasureofpeace.

He had intended to leave at dawn. But when he awokeafteralongsleepthesunwasalreadyhighinthesky.Theyogihadbegun his meditation, and Dasa did not want to leave withoutbiddinggood‐by.Moreover,hestillhadarequesttomake.Andsohewaited,hourafterhour,untilthemanrose,stretchedhislimbs,and began his pacing. Then Dasa once more blocked his way,bowed repeatedly, and obstinately remained until the masterdirectedaninquiringlookathim.

"Master," he saidhumbly, "I amgoingmyway. I shall nolongerdisturb your tranquility. Butpermitmea request this onelast time, venerable father. When I told you about my life, youlaughed and exclaimed, 'Maya!' I implore you, teach me moreaboutMaya."

Theyogiturnedtowardthehut,hiseyescommandingDasato follow.Pickingup thewatergourd, theoldmanheld itout toDasa, signing tohim towashhishands.Obediently,Dasadid so.Thenthemasterpouredtheremainderofthewaterintotheferns,heldthegourdouttoDasaonceagain,andaskedhimtofetchfreshwater. Dasa obeyed. He ran, emotions of parting tugging at hisheart, forthe lasttimedownthelittlefootpathtothespring.Forthelasttimehecarriedthelighthuskwithitssmooth,wornrimtothe little poolwhich sooften reflected in scattered flecks of lightthemuzzlesofdeer,thearchingoftreetops,andthesweetblueofthesky.Now,ashestoopedoverit,itreflectedforthelasttimehisown face in the russet dusk. He dipped the gourd slowly andthoughtfully into thewater, feeling aweird senseof uncertainty.He could not understand why, or why it had hurt him, since hemeanttoleaveanyhow,thattheoldmanhadnotaskedhimtostayawhilelonger,orperhapsstayforever.

Crouchingbythebrinkofthespring,hetookadrink.Thenhe rose, holding the gourd carefully so as not to spill any of thewater.Hewasabouttoreturnalongthepathwhenhisearcaughtatonethatbothdelightedandhorrifiedhim.Thiswasthevoicehehadheardinsomanyofhisdreams,thathehadrememberedwithsuch bitter longing inmany awaking hour. It coaxed so sweetly,sounded so charming, so childlike and loving in the dusk of theforest, thathisheart shiveredwith frightandpleasure. ItwashiswifePravati'svoice."Dasa,"shecalledcoaxingly.

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Incredulously, he looked around, still holding the gourd;and suddenly she appeared among the tree trunks, slender as areed on her long legs — Pravati, his unforgettable, faithlessbeloved. He dropped the gourd and ran toward her. Smiling,somewhatabashed,shestoodbeforehim, lookingupathimwithher big doe's eyes. As he approached he saw that shewore redleather sandals and a beautiful, costly dress. There was a goldbraceletonherarm,andpreciousstonesflashedinherblackhair.He checkedhis stride.Was she still a rajah's concubine?HadhenotkilledNala?Wasshestillgoingaboutwithhisgifts?Howcouldshecomebeforehimadornedwiththeseclaspsandgemsanddaretocallhisname?

Butshewas lovelier thanever,andbeforehehadtimetodemandanexplanationhecouldnotresisttakingherintohisarms,pressinghis foreheadagainstherhair, raisingher faceandkissinghermouth;andashedidsohefeltthateverythinghadreturnedtohim, that everything was his once more, all that he had everpossessed, his happiness, love, lust, joy in life, passion. All histhoughtshadalreadymovedfarfromtheforestandtheoldhermit;the woods, the hermitage, meditation, and yoga had vanished,were forgotten. He gave not another thought to the old man'sgourd,whichhewas to bring back filledwithwater. It remainedwhere he had dropped it by the spring as he rushed towardPravati.Andshe,forherpart,beganhastilytotellhimhowitwasshehadcomehere,andallthathadhappenedintheinterval.

Herstorywasastonishing,astonishinganddelightful,likeafairy tale, andDasa plunged into his new life as if itwere a fairytale. Pravati was his again; the odious Rajah Nala dead. Thepursuitof themurdererhad longsinceceased.Butmore thanallthat, Dasa, the prince who had become a herdsman, had beenproclaimedtherightfulheirandruler.InthecityanoldherdsmanandanoldBrahmanhadrevivedthealmost forgottenstoryofhisexpulsionandmade it the talkof the country.Hewhohadbeenhunted high and low to be tortured and executed as Nala'smurdererwas nowbeing soughtmuchmore ardently throughoutthe land, so that he could be brought solemnly to his father'spalaceandinstalledasRajah.

It was like a dream, and what pleased the amazed Dasamostwastheprettychancethatofall theseekerssentaboutthecountry,ithadbeenPravatiwhohadfoundhimandbeenthefirstto salutehim.On theedgeof the foresthe found tentserected.The smell of smoke and roasting game filled the air. Pravatiwasjoyously hailed by her retinue, and a great feast began at oncewhenshepresentedDasa,herhusband.AmongthethrongwasamanwhohadbeenDasa'scompanioninhisdaysasaherdsman.ItwashewhohadledPravatiandtheretinuehere,withthethoughtthat Dasamight be found at one of the places dear to him fromearlierdays. Theman laughedwithpleasurewhenhe recognizedDasa. He ran up to him, ready to embrace him or give him afriendly pat on the back. But his fellowherdsmanhad become arajah, andhe stoppedas if suddenlynumbed, thenmoved slowlyandrespectfullyforwardandbowedlow.Dasaraisedhim,clasped

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him to his breast, affectionately called him by name, and askedhowhecouldrewardhim.Theherdsmanwantedaheifercalf,andthreewerepromptlyassignedtohimfromtheRajah'sbeststock.

Moreandmorepeoplewereintroducedtothenewprince:officials,huntsmen,courtBrahmans.Hereceivedtheirsalutations.A meal was served; music of drums, sitars, and nose‐flutessounded; and all the festivity and pomp seemed to Dasa like adream. He could not fully believe in it. For the present the onlyrealityseemedtohimPravati,hisyoungwife,whomheagainheldinhisarms.

Moving by small daily stages, the procession approachedthecapitalcity.Runnershadbeensentaheadtoannouncethattheyoung Rajah had been found and was on his way. The cityresounded with the boom of gongs and drums as Dasa and hisretinue approached. A white‐clad parade of Brahmans cameforward tomeet him, headed by the successor of that Vasudevawho some twenty years before had sent Dasa to the herdsmen.Theoldmanhaddiedonlyrecently.TheBrahmanshailedthenewRajah,sanghymns,andledhimtothepalace,whereseveralgreatsacrificial fireshadbeen lit.Dasawasshown intohisnewhome.There were more welcomings, homages, benedictions, andspeeches.Outsidethepalace,thecitycelebratedjoyfullyuntillateintothenight.

Instructed daily by two Brahmans, Dasa quickly acquiredthe knowledge necessary to a ruler. He attended sacrifices,

pronouncedjudgments,andpracticedtheartsofchivalryandwar.A Brahman named Gopala taught him politics. He explained thepositionofhishouseanditsregalprivileges,whatclaimshisfuturesons would have, and who were his enemies. The principal onewasNala'smotherwho in thepasthadrobbedPrinceDasaofhisrightsandhadsoughttotakehislife,andwhonowmustcertainlyhate her son'smurderer. She had fled to the protection of theirneighbor,PrinceGovinda,andwaslivinginhispalace.ThisGovindaand his house had been dangerous foes from time immemorial.They hadmadewar upon Dasa's forefathers and claimed certainparts of his territory. On the other hand the Prince of Gaipali,Dasa'sneighbortothesouth,hadbeenfriendlywithhisfatherandhad always disliked Rajah Nala. Visiting him, lavishing gifts uponhim,andinvitinghimtothenextgreathuntbelongedamongDasa'simportantduties.

The lady Pravati had rapidly adapted to the ways of thenobility. She had the bearing of a princess, and in her beautifuldressesand jewelry she looked splendid, as if she sprang fromasfinealineageasherhusband.Yearafteryeartheylivedtogetherinharmonious love, and their happiness gave them a certain glow,likethosewhomthegodsfavor,sothatthepeopleadoredthem.Andwhen, after longwaiting, Pravati at last borehimabeautifulboytowhomhegavehisfather'sname,Ravana,hishappinesswascomplete. All that he possessed, all the land and power, theestates and barns, dairies, cattle, and horses, acquired a freshimportance inhiseyes,anaddedgloryandvalue.Hiswealthhadpleased him because it could be lavished on Pravati, whose

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loveliness could be enhancedwith apparel and jewelry. Now hisrichpossessionsdelightedhimallthemore,andseemedfarmoreimportant, because he saw in them his son Ravana's inheritanceandfuturehappiness.

Pravati'schiefpleasureslayinfestivals,parades,andpomp,luxury in dress and finery, and a large corps of servants. Dasapreferredthejoysofhisgarden.Hehadorderedrareandprecioustrees and flowers planted there, and stocked the grounds withparrots and other brilliantly plumaged birds. Feeding and talkingwith these pets became one of his daily pleasures. In addition,learningattractedhim.HeprovedagratefulpupiloftheBrahmans,learnedtoreadandwrite,memorizedmanypoemsandproverbs,andkeptapersonalscribewhounderstoodtheartofmakingscrollsout of palm leaves. Under the scribe's skillful hands a modestlibrary grew. The bookswere kept in a small opulent roomwithgildedpanelingofpreciouswoods,carvedwithreliefsrepresentingincidents in the lives of the gods. Here he sometimes invited hisBrahmans, the foremost scholars and thinkers among the priests,toconductdisputationsonsacredsubjects:onthecreationoftheworldandongreatVishnu'sMaya,ontheholyVedas,thepowerofsacrifice,andthestillgreaterpowerofpenance,byvirtueofwhichamortalman canmake the very gods tremblewith fear of him.Those Brahmans who had spoken best and advanced the mostelegantargumentsreceivedfinegifts.Astheprizeforasuccessfuldisputation,somedepartedleadingawayafinecow.Onoccasionthere was something both ridiculous and touching when greatscholars, who a few moments before had been reciting maxims

fromtheVedasalongwithbrilliantexegesesof the same,orwhohad just proved the depth of their knowledge of all the heavensand seas, stalkedoff swollenwithpride in their awards,or fell tobickeringwithoneanotherovertheirprizes.

Ingeneral,forallhishappiness,hiswealth,hisgarden,andhisbooks,PrinceDasaattimescouldnothelpregardingeverythingthatpertainedtohumanlifeandhumannatureasbothstrangeanddubious,atoncetouchingandridiculous,likethosesamesagaciousand vain Brahmans, at once bright and dark, desirable andcontemptible. When his gaze dwelt on the lotus flowers in theponds of his garden, on the lovely iridescent plumage of hispeacocks,pheasants,andrhinocerosbirds,onthegildedcarvingsofhispalace,thesethingssometimesseemedtohimvirtuallydivine,aglowwiththefiresofeternallife.Butothertimes,andevenatthesame times, he sensed in them something unreal, unreliable,questionable, a tendency toward perishability and dissolution, areadiness to relapse into formlessness, into chaos. Just as hehimselfhadbeenaprince,becameaherdsman,descendedtothenadir of amurderer and outlaw, and ultimately became a princeonce more, moved and guided by unknown powers, with all histomorrows foreveruncertain, so life'swaywardMayaeverywherecontained simultaneously nobility and baseness, eternity anddeath,grandeurandabsurdity.Evenhisbeautiful,belovedPravatihadsometimes,forbriefmoments,appearedtohiminaludicrouslight,strippedofhercharm;sheworetoomanybracelets,hadtoomuchofprideandtriumphinhereyes,andtriedtoohardtomovemajestically.

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Evendearer tohim thanhisgardenandhisbookswashissonRavana,thefulfillmentofhisloveandhislife,theobjectofhistendernessandsolicitude.Hewasatrueprince,a lovely,delicatechild, doe‐eyed like his mother and inclined to pensiveness andreverielikehisfather.Often,whenDasasawtheboystandingforalongtimeinfrontofoneoftheornamentaltreesinthegarden,orsittingonarug,absorbedincontemplationofastone,acarvedtoy,or a feather, eyebrows slightly raised and eyes staring quietly,somewhat absently, it seemed to him that this sonwas very likehimself. Dasa realized fully how intensely he loved him the firsttimethathehadtoleavetheboyforanindefiniteperiod.

One day a messenger arrived from the frontier regionwhere his land bordered on that of his neighbor Govinda andreportedthatGovinda'smenhadlaunchedaraid,stolencattle,andeven kidnapped a number of Dasa's subjects. Dasa immediatelymade his preparations. He took with him the colonel of hisbodyguardandafewdozenhorsesandmen,andsetoffinpursuitof the raiders.Themomentbeforehe rodeoff,he tookhis smallsonintohisarmsandkissedhim;andloveflaredinhisheartlikeafiery pang. The force of that pang surprised him; it affected himlikesomebiddingfromtheunknown;andduringthe longridehisreflections on it ripened into understanding. For as he rode heponderedthereasonhewassitting inthesaddleandgallopingsosternly and swiftly over the countryside. What power, hewondered,wascausinghimtoundertakesuchefforts?Pondering,herealizedthatatthebottomofhisheartitwasofsmallconcernto him that cattle andmen shouldhavebeen snatched fromhim

somewhere on his borders. Thievery and the flouting of hisauthority could not suffice to kindle his rage and spur him toaction.Itwouldhavebeenmorenaturaltohimtohavedismissedthenewsoftheraidwithacompassionatesmile.Buttohavedoneso,heknew,wouldhavebeen to commitabitter injustice to themessenger.Thepoorfellowhadrunallthewaywithhisnewsuntilhe was ready to drop with exhaustion. No less would he havewronged the peoplewho had been captured andwhowere nowprisoners, carried away from their homes and their peaceful lifeintoforeignslavery.Moreover,allhisothersubjects,thoughtheyhadnotbeenharmed in the least,wouldalsohave feltwronged.Theywouldhaveresentedhispassivity,notunderstandingwhytheprince could not protect his country better. They took it forgrantedthatifviolenceweredonetoanyofthemtheycouldcountupontheirrulerforaidandvengeance.

Herealizedthatitwashisdutytoundertakethisexpeditionofreprisal.Butwhatisduty?Howmanydutiestherearethatwesooftenneglectwithouttheslightestcompunction?Whatwasthereasonthatthisdutyofvengeancewasnotrivialone,thathecouldnot neglect it, and that in fact he was not performing itperfunctorilyandhalfheartedly,butwithzestandpassion?Assoonas thequestionarose inhismind,hisheartanswered it, foronceagain itquiveredwith thatpanghehad feltonparting from littlePrinceRavana.IftheRajah,herealized,madenoresistancewhencattle and people were taken from him, robbery and violencewouldspreadfromthebordersofhiscountrycloserandclosertothecenter, andultimately theenemywould standdirectlybefore

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himandwouldstrikehimwherehewaspronetothebitterestpain:in the person of his son. Theywould take his son, his successor,fromhim;theywouldcarrytheboyoffandkillhim,perhapsundertorture; and that would be the most extreme suffering he couldeverexperience,evenworse, farworse, thanthedeathofPravatiherself.Sothatwasthereasonhewasridingoffsozealouslyandwassodutifulasovereign.Notfromconcernforthelossofcattleandland,notfromkindnessforhissubjects,notfromambitiontomatchhisfather'snoblename,butoutofintense,painful,irrationalloveforthischild,andoutofintense,irrationalfearofthepainhewouldfeelatthelossofthischild.

Thusfarhehadcomeinunderstandingduringthatride.Hehad not, however, managed to apprehend and punish Govinda'smen. They escaped with their booty, and in order to show hisdetermination and prove his courage he himself now had to raidacrosstheborder,damageoneofhisneighbor'svillages,andcarryoffsomecattleandafewslaves.

He had been awaymany days. On the homeward ride, avictor,hehadagainsunkintomeditation,andreturnedhomeveryquietlyand rather sorrowful. For in thecourseofhismeditationshehadrealizedhowentirelyensnaredhewas,withoutanyhopeofescaping; his whole nature and all his actions were caught andbeing strangled in a diabolic net. While his leaning towardphilosophy,hisloveforquietcontemplationandalifeofinnocenceandinaction,wereconstantlygrowing,therewaslikewisegrowingfromanothersourcehisloveforRavana,hisanxietyabouthisson's

life and future, an equally forceful compulsion to action andentanglement. Out of affection grew conflict, out of love war.Already, in the effort to mete out justice, he had seized a herd,terrified a village, and forcibly carried off poor innocent people.Out of that, of course,would growa newact of vengeance, newviolence, and so on and on until his whole life and his wholecountry were plunged in warfare and violence and the clash ofarms. Itwas this insight,or vision,whichmadehimso silentandsorrowfuluponhishomecoming.

He had been right, for the hostile neighbor gave him nopeace.Theincursionsandraidswererepeated.Dasahadtomarchoutagainforreprisalsanddefense,andwhentheenemywithdrew,his own soldiers and chasseurs had to be turned upon theneighboring people. Mounted and armed men were more andmoreafamiliarsightinthecapital.Inagoodmanyfrontiervillagestherewerenowpermanentgarrisonsofsoldiersonguard.Militaryconferencesandpreparations troubledDasa'sdays.He couldnotseewhatpurposethisendlessguerrillawarfareserved;hegrievedfor theplightof thevictims, for the livesof thedead.Hegrievedbecause more and more he had to neglect his garden and hisbooks. He grieved for the lost peace of his days and his heart.Often he spoke with Gopala, the Brahman, about thesematters,andsometimeswithhiswifePravati.

Should they not ask one of the respected neighboringprinces to act asmediator? For his part hewould gladly help tobringaboutpeacebyconciliationandsurrenderingafewpastures

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and villages. He was disappointed and somewhat angered whenneither the Brahman nor Pravati would hear of anything of thekind.

HisdifferenceofopinionwithPravationthisquestionledtoan extremely violent quarrel, and ended with a seriousestrangement.Insistently,hepleadedhispointswithher.Butshebehavedasifeverywordweredirectednotagainstthewarandtheuseless killing, but solely against herself. In a verbose, furiousretort she declared that itwas precisely the enemy's aim to takeadvantageofDasa'sgoodnatureandloveofpeace(nottosayhisfearofwar);theenemywouldpersuadehimtoconcludeonepeacetreatyafteranother,eachpaidforinsmallconcessionsofterritoryandpopulation.Andintheendhewouldstillnotbesatisfied,butas soonasDasawas sufficientlyweakened,would return toopenwar and seize everything that was left to him. She was notconcernedaboutherdsandvillages,meritsanddemerits,butwiththefateofthewhole,theirsurvivalorannihilation.AndifDasadidnot knowwhat he owed to his dignity, his son, and hiswife, shewouldhavetobetheonetoteachhim.Hereyesblazed;hervoiceshook; it was long since he had seen her so beautiful and sopassionate,buthefeltonlysorrow.

Meanwhile the border raids and breaches of peacecontinued;theycametoatemporaryendonlywiththebeginningof the rainy season. By now there were two factions at Dasa'scourt.Oneside,thepeaceparty,wasverysmall;asidefromDasaitnumbered only a few of the older Brahmans. These were all

learnedmenabsorbedintheirmeditations.Butthewarparty,thepartyofPravatiandGopala,hadthemajorityofpriestsandallthearmyofficersonitsside.Thecountryarmedfeverishly,anditwasknown that the hostile neighbor was doing the same. The chiefhuntsman instructedPrinceRavana in theartof thebow,andhismothertookhimalongtoeveryinspectionoftroops.

During this period Dasa sometimes thought of the forestwherehehadlivedforawhileasapoorfugitive,andofthewhite‐haired old hermit who lived there absorbed in contemplation.Sometimeshefeltadesiretocallupontheyogi, toseehimagainandaskhisadvice.Buthedidnotknowwhethertheoldmanwasstillliving,norwhetherhewouldlistenandgivecounsel.Andevenif hewere alive andwould advise, everythingwouldneverthelesstake its course. Nothing could be changed. Meditation andwisdomweregood,werenoblethings,butapparentlytheythroveonly on themargin of life. If you swam in the streamof life andstruggledwithitswaves,youractsandsufferinghadnothingtodowithwisdom. They came about of their own accord,were fated,and had to be done and suffered. Even the gods did not live ineternal peace and eternalwisdom. They too experienced dangerandfear,struggleandbattle;thatheknewfromthemanytalesofthegods.

AndsoDasayielded.HenolongercontendedwithPravati.He reviewed the troops, saw the war coming, anticipated it indebilitating dreams, and as his body grew leaner, and his facedarker, he saw his happiness fading, his gaiety shriveling. There

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remainedonly his love for his son. That increased alongwith hisanxiety, increased along with the arming and the drilling ofsoldiers. Itwastheflamingredflower inhisparchinggarden.Hewondered at how much emptiness and joylessness a man couldendure,athoweasyitwastogrowaccustomedtocareandgloom,andhealsowonderedthatsoanxiousandsolicitousalovecouldsopainfully dominate a life that had seemingly lost the capacity forpassion. Although his life might be meaningless, it was certainlynotwithoutacenter;itrevolvedaroundhisloveforhisson.ItwasonRavana'saccountthatherosefromhisbedinthemorningandspenthisdaysinoccupationsandexertionsdirectedsolelytowardwar, and therefore repugnant to him. On Ravana's account hepatiently conferred with his generals, and withstood majorityopiniononly to theextent thatheprevailedon them towaitandsee,notplungerecklesslyintoadventures.

Just as his joys, his garden, and his books had graduallydesertedhim, sohewasalsodesertedby thosewho for somanyyearshad shapedhishappinessand representedhispleasures. Ithad begun with politics, with Pravati's passionate speechexcoriating his fear of sinning and love of peace, almost openlycallingallthatcowardice.Shehadspokenwithflushedcheeksandin fieryphrasesofheroism, aprince'shonor, and theprospectofdisgrace.At that time, stunnedandwitha senseofgiddiness,hehadsuddenlyrealizedhowfarhiswifehadbecomeestrangedfromhim, or he from her. Ever since, the gulf between them hadwidened.Itwasstillgrowing,andneitherofthemdidanythingtocheck its growth. Or rather, it should have fallen to Dasa to do

somethingaboutit.Foronlyhesawthegulfforwhatitwas.Inhisimaginationitmoreandmoregrewintothegulfofgulfs,becameacosmic abyss between man and woman, between yes and no,betweensoulandbody.Inretrospecthethoughthesawthewholething with complete clarity. He remembered how Pravati,magically beautiful, had captivated him until he parted with hisfriends, gaveuphis carefree life as aherdsman, and forher sakelivedasaservantinanalienworld,theson‐in‐lawinthehouseofunkindpeoplewhoexploitedhis infatuation toextract labor fromhim.ThenNalahadcomealong,andhismisfortuneshadbegun.Thewealthy, handsomeRajahwith his fine clothes and tents, hishorses and servants, had seduced hiswife. Thatmight have costhimlittleeffort,forpoorPravatihadnotbeenaccustomedtoregalsplendor.Butwouldshereallyhavebeen ledastraysoeasilyandquickly if she had been faithful and virtuous at heart? Verywell,theRajahhadseducedher,orsimplytakenher,andthus inflicteduponhimthemosthorriblegriefhehadeverexperienced.Buthe,Dasa,hadtakenrevenge.Hehadkilledthethiefofhishappiness,andhadfeltthekillingasamomentofhightriumph.Butscarcelywasthedeeddonethanhehadhadtoflee.Fordays,weeks,andmonthshehad lived in swampand forest, anoutlaw, trustingnoman.

AndwhathadPravatibeendoingallthattime?Thetwoofthemhadneverspokenmuchaboutthat.Inanycase,shehadnotfled also. She had sought and found himonly after he had beenproclaimedNala'ssuccessor,becauseofhisbirth,andsheneededhiminordertoenterthepalaceandascendthethrone.Thenshe

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hadappeared,hadfetchedhimfromtheforestandthevenerablehermit's purlieus. He had been dressed in fine garments, madeRajah,andsincethenhehadhadnothingbutgloryandfelicity—butinreality:whathadheabandonedatthattime,andwhathadhegainedinexchange?Hehadgainedthesplendorandthedutiesof a sovereign, duties that had been initially easy and had eversincegrownharderandharder.Hehadregainedhisbeautifulwife,thesweethoursoflovemakingwithher,andthenhisson,whohadtaughthisheartanewkindof loveand increasingconcernforhisimperiledlifeandhappiness,sothatnowthewholecountrywasonthe brink ofwar. Thiswaswhat Pravati had conferred upon himwhenshediscoveredhimbythespringinthewoods.Butwhathadhe left behind, what had he sacrificed? He had left behind thepeace of the forest, pious solitude, and the presence and theexampleofaholy yogi. Inadditionhehad sacrificed thehopeofbecomingadiscipleandsuccessor,ofsharingthesage'sprofound,radiant, unshakable peace of soul, of being liberated from thestruggles and passions of life. Seduced by Pravati's beauty,entangled by the woman, and infected by her ambition, he hadabandonedtheonlywaythatledtoliberationandpeace.

Thatwas how the story of his life appeared to him now.Andinfactitcouldeasilybeinterpretedthus.Onlyafewblurringsand omissionswere needed to see it thatway. He had omitted,among other things, the fact that he had not been the hermit'sdiscipleatall.Onthecontrary,hehadbeenonthepointofleavinghimvoluntarily.Butperspectivesoftenshiftinhindsight.

Pravati regarded thesematters quite differently, althoughshewas far less inclined to reflection than her husband. She didnotthinkaboutNalaatall.Ontheotherhand,ifsherememberedrightly it had been she alone who had founded Dasa's goodfortune.ShewasresponsibleforhisbecomingtheRajah.Shehadgivenhimason,hadlavishedloveandhappinessuponhim.Butinthe end she had found him unable to match her greatness,unworthyofhersoaringprojects.For itwasclear toher that thecomingwarcouldhavenooutcomeother thanthedestructionofthe enemy and the doubling of her own power and possessions.But instead of exulting in this prospect and collaboratingenthusiastically, Dasa, most unlike a prince, hung back from warandconquestandwouldhavepreferredtogrowoldidlingawayhistimewithhisflowers,trees,parrots,andbooks.OntheotherhandtherewasVishwamitra, thecommanderof thecavalry forces.Hewas a different sort of man, next to herself the most ardentpartisanofthewar,repeatedlyurgingthattheystrikeforvictoryassoonaspossible.Inanycomparisonbetweenthetwo,Vishwamitracouldnothelpshowingtoadvantage.

Dasahadnot failed tonoticehiswife'sgrowing friendshipwith Vishwamitra. He saw how much she admired him, and letherself be admiredby this brave and cheerful but possibly rathershallow, perhaps somewhat unintelligent army officer with hismanly smile, his fine strong teeth and well‐tended beard. Dasaobserved it all with bitterness and at the same time withcontempt.Hedeceivedhimself into thinkinghe feltonly scornfulindifference. He did not spy on them or try to discoverwhether

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their friendship had overstepped the limits of decency. HeregardedPravati'sinfatuationwiththehandsomecavalryman,andthe looks which showed how she preferred him to her unheroichusband,withthesameoutwardlyindifferent,inwardlyembitteredcalmwithwhichhewaswont tovieweverything thathappened.Whetherhiswifewasdeterminedupon infidelityandbetrayal,orwhether she was merely expressing her contempt for Dasa'sprinciples, it did not matter. The thing had come and wasdeveloping, was beginning to confront him like the war and thedisaster whose imminence he sensed. There was nothing to bedone about it. The only possible attitude toward it was one ofacceptance, of stoic endurance. For that, instead of attack andconquest,wasDasa'skindofmanlinessandheroism.

WhetherornotPravati'sadmirationforthecavalrycaptain,andhisforher,remainedwithintheboundsofmorality,inanycasePravati was less guilty than he, Dasa, himself. That much heunderstood. To be sure, thinker and doubter that he was, hetended to blame her for the evaporation of his happiness. Or atany rate he considered that she was partly responsible for hishaving stumbled into the complexities of life, into love, intoambition, intoactsof revengeand raids. Inhis thoughtsheevenblamed woman, love, and lust for everything on earth, for thewholecrazydance,thewholewildchaseofpassionsanddesires,ofadultery,ofdeath,ofkilling,ofwar.ButatthesametimeheknewquitewellthatPravatiwasnottoblame.Shewasnotacause,butherself a victim. She had not made, and could not be heldaccountablefor,eitherherbeautyorhisloveforher.Shewasonly

a grain of dust in the rays of the sun, a ripple in the stream. Itshouldhavebeenhistask,andhisalone,towithdrawfromwomanandlove,fromambitionandthehungerforhappiness.Heshouldhave remained either a contented cowherd among herdsmen, orelseheshouldhavetriedtoovercomehisowninadequacybythemysteriouspathofyoga.Hehadneglectedtodoso,hadfailed;hehadnovocationforgreatness,orelsehehadnotkeptfaithwithhisvocation, so that after all his wife was right to regard him as acoward.Ontheotherhand,shehadgivenhimthisson, this frail,handsome boy for whom he felt so fearful but whose existencefilledhis own lifewithmeaning,whowas in fact a great joy—apainfulandfearfuljoy,certainly,butstillajoy,histruehappiness.Now he was paying for this happiness with the sorrow andbitterness inhisheart,withhis readiness forwaranddeath,withhisconsciousnessofmovingtowardadirefate.

MeanwhileRajahGovindasatinhisowncapital,listeningtothe bidding of the mother of Nala, the slain seducer of evilmemory. Govinda's incursions and challengeswere growing evermore frequent and brazen. Only an alliance with the powerfulRajah ofGaipali could havemadeDasa strong enough to enforcepeace and neighborly relations. But this Rajah, although he waswelldisposedtowardDasa,wasGovinda'skinsmanandhadpolitelyrepulsedalleffortstowinhimovertosuchanalliance.Therewasnoescape,nohopeofsanityorhumanity.Thefatedoutcomewasdrawing nearer and would have to be undergone. Dasa himselfalmostlongedforthewarnow.Ifonlytheaccumulatedlightnings

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would strike; if only the calamity would come speedily, since itcouldnolongerbeaverted.

Once more he paid a visit to the Rajah of Gaipali andexchanged fruitless courtesies with him. In his council he urgedmoderation and patience, but by now he was doing so withouthope. For the rest,he improvedhisarmaments.Thecouncilwasdividedonlyonthequestionofwhethertorespondtotheenemy'snextraidwithinvasionofhisterritoryandoutrightwar,orwhetherto await his major offensive, so that the people and all neutralswouldseewhowastrulyguiltyofviolatingthepeace.

Theenemy,unconcernedwith suchquestions, put anendto reflection, discussion, and hesitation. One day he struck. Hestaged amajor raid which inveigled Dasa, along with the cavalrycaptainandhisbesttroops,intorushingtothefrontier.Whiletheywere on the way, Govinda's main force invaded the country,stormed the gates of Dasa's capital, and besieged the palace. Assoon as Dasa heard the news he turned back. He knew that hiswife and his son were encircled in the palace, and that bloodybattleswere raging in the streets of the city. His heart poundedwith fury and sorrowwhenhe thoughtof his lovedones and thedangers that faced them.Nowhewas no longer a reluctant andcautiouscommander.Heburnedwithanguishandrage,urgedhismenhomewardinwildhaste,foundthebattlesurgingthroughthestreets, cuthisway through to thepalace, confronted theenemyandfoughtlikeamadmanuntil,attwilightonthatbloodyday,hecollapsedexhausted,bleedingfromseveralwounds.

When he recovered consciousness, he found himself aprisoner.Thebattlewaslost.Cityandpalacewereinthehandsofhis enemies. Bound, he was taken before Govinda, who greetedhim disdainfully and led him into one of the other rooms of thepalace. It was the roomwith the carved and gildedwalls whereDasakepthisscrolls.Here,sittingboltuprightononeoftherugs,stony‐faced,washiswifePravati.Armedguardsstoodbehindher.Acrossherkneeslaytheirson.Likeabrokenflowerthatfrailbodylaydead, facegray,his garments soakedwithblood. Thewomandidnotturnwhenherhusbandwasledin.Shedidnotseehim;shesat staringexpressionlessat thesmall corpse.But sheseemed toDasastrangelytransformed.Ittookawhilebeforeherealizedthatherhair,whichonlyafewdaysbeforehehadseenravenblack,wasnoweverywhereshotthroughwithgray.Sheseemedtohavebeensitting thatway fora long time, theboyonher lap,numbed,herfaceamask.

"Ravana!"Dasaexclaimed."Ravana,mychild,myflower!"Heknelt.Hisfacefellforwarduponthedeadboy'shead.Asifinprayer he knelt before themutewoman and the child,mourningboth, paying homage to both.He smelled the odor of blood anddeath,mingledwiththefragranceofthearomaticpomadeonthechild'shair.

WithnumbedgazePravatistaredblanklydownatthetwoofthem.

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Someone touched his shoulder. It was one of Govinda'scaptains,whoorderedhimtostandup.Thesoldiers ledhimout.HehadnotaddressedawordtoPravati,orshetohim.

Bound,hewasplacedonawagonandtakentoadungeonin Govinda's capital. There his fetters were partly loosened. Asoldier brought a jugofwater andput it on the stone floor. Thedoorwasclosedandbarred,andhewasleftalone.Awoundonhisshoulder burned like fire. He groped for the water jug andmoistened his hands and face. Hewanted to drink, but forbore;thiswayhewoulddiefaster,hethought.Howmuchlongerwouldit take, how much longer! He longed for death as his parchedthroat longed forwater.Only deathwould still the torture in hisheart.Onlythenwouldthepictureofthemotherwiththeirdeadson be erased. But in themidst of his agony,mercifulwearinessandweaknessovercamehim.Hesankdownandfellasleep.

When he returned hazily to consciousness after this briefslumber,hetriedtorubhiseyes,butcouldnot.Bothhandswereoccupied,wereholdingsomethingtightly.Whenhetookheartandforcedhiseyesopen,hesawthathewasnolongersurroundedbydungeonwalls.Greenishlightflowedbrightandstrongoverleavesand moss. He blinked several times. The light struck him like afiercethoughnoiselessblow.Atwitchofhorror,ashudderoffear,passed through the nape of his neck and down his spine. Oncemoreheblinked, screweduphis faceas if hewereweeping, andopenedhiseyeswide.

Hewasstandinginaforest,holdinginbothhandsagourdfullofwater.Athisfeetthebasinofaspringreflectedbrownsandgreens.Beyondthefernthicket,herecalled,stoodthehutandthewaitingyogiwhohadsenthimtofetchwater,whohadlaughedsostrangely andwhomhehadasked to teachhim something aboutMaya.

Hehadlostneitherabattlenorason.Hehadbeenneithera rajah nor a father. Rather, the yogi had granted his wish andtaughthimaboutMaya.Palaceandgarden,libraryandaviary,thecaresof sovereignty andpaternal love,war and jealousy, his lovefor Pravati and his violent suspicion of her — all that had beennothing. No, not nothing. It had been Maya! Dasa stood thereshattered.Tearsrandownhischeeks.Hishandstrembled,shakingthegourdhehadjustfilledforthehermit.Waterspilledovertherim and onto his feet. He felt as if someone had just amputatedoneofhislimbs,removedsomethingfromhishead.Suddenlythelong years he had lived, the treasures cherished, the delightsenjoyed,thepangssuffered,thefearsendured,thedespairhehadtasted to thebrinkof death—all this hadbeen taken fromhim,extinguished,reducedtonothingness.Andyetnottonothingness!For thememorywas there. The images had remainedwith him.HestillsawPravatisitting,tallandrigid,withherhairsosuddenlygray,hersoninherlap,asthoughsheherselfhadkilledhim.Thechildlaytherelikethepreyofsomebeast,hislegsdanglinglimplyacrossherknees.

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Ohhow swiftly, how swiftly andhorribly, how cruelly andthoroughly,hadhebeentaughtaboutMaya!Everythinghadbeenderanged;chargedyearshadshrunktomoments.Allthatcrowdedrealityhadbeenadream. Perhaps, too, hehaddreamedall thathadhappenedpreviously; the talesofPrinceDasa,ofhis lifeasaherdsman,hismarriage,hisvengeanceuponNala,histakingrefugewith the hermit. All that had been pictures such as one mightadmire on a carved palace frieze where flowers, stars, birds,monkeys,andgodscouldbeseenamidthefoliage.Andwaswhathe was experiencing this moment, what he saw before his eyes,awakening from rulership and war and imprisonment, standingbesidethespring,thisgourdfromwhichhehadjustspilledalittlewater,togetherwithwhathewasnowthinkingaboutitall—wasnot all this made of the same stuff? Was it not dream, illusion,Maya? And everything he would still experience in the future,wouldseewithhiseyesandfeelwithhishands,uptothemomentof his death—was it any different in substance, any different inkind? Itwas all a game and a sham, all foamanddream. ItwasMaya, the whole lovely and frightful, delicious and desperatekaleidoscopeoflifewithitssearingdelights,itssearinggriefs.

Dasa still stood numbed. Again the gourd shook in hishandsand itswater spilled,wettinghis toesand running into theground.Whatoughthetodo?Fillthebowlagain,carryitbacktothe yogi, and be laughed at for all that he had suffered in hisdream?Thatwasnotalluring.Heletthegourdtilt,emptiedit,andthrew it into themoss. Thenhe sat downon the green bed andbegan to reflect seriously. He had had enough and more than

enough of this dreaming, of this diabolic texture of experiences,joys,andsufferings thatcrushedyourheartandmadeyourbloodstandstill,onlytobesuddenlyrevealedasMaya,sothatyouwerenothingbutafool.Hehadhadenoughofeverything.Henolongercraved eitherwife or child, either a throneor victory or revenge,eitherhappinessorcleverness,eitherpowerorvirtue.Hedesirednothing but peace, nothing but an end of turmoil. He no longerwantedanythingbuttocheckthisendlesslyturningwheel,tostopthisendless spectacle, toextinguish it all.Hewanted to find restforhimselfandextinguishhimself.Thatwaswhathehadwantedwhenhehurledhimselfattheenemyinthatlastbattle,slashingallaboutandbeingslashedat inreturn,givingwoundsandreceivingthem,until he collapsed.Butwhat then? Then therewasabriefpauseofunconsciousness,or slumber,ordeath, and immediatelyafterwardyouwereawakeagain,hadtoadmitthecurrentsoflifeintoyourheartoncemoreandoncemoreletthedreadful, lovely,terrible flood of pictures pour into your eyes, endlessly,inescapably,until thenextunconsciousness,until thenextdeath.Thatwas, perhaps, a pause, amomentof rest, a chance to catchyourbreath.Butthenitwenton,andonceagainyouwereoneofthe thousand figures engaged in thewild, intoxicating, desperatedanceoflife.Ah,therewasnoextinction.Itwentonforever.

Unrestdrovehimtohis feetoncemore. If therewerenorest in this accursed round‐dance, if his one most acute desirecouldnotbefulfilled,thenhemightjustaswellfillhisgourdagainand bring it to this old man who had sent him on this errand,althoughhedidnotreallyhaveanyrightofcommandoverhim.It

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wasaservice thathadbeenaskedofhim. Itwasanassignment.Hemight justaswellobeyandcarry itout.Thatwasbetter thansittinghereandponderingmethodsofself‐destruction.Altogether,obeying and servingwere better and far easier, seemlier and farmore harmless, than commanding and taking responsibility. Thatmuchheknew.Verywell,Dasa,takethegourd,fillitcarefullywithwater,andbringittoyourmaster!

Whenhereachedthehut, themasterreceivedhimwithastrange look, a slightly questioning, half‐compassionate, half‐amused look of complicity— such a look as an older boy mighthaveforayoungeronewhomheseesreturningfromastrenuousandsomewhatshamefuladventure,atestofcouragethathasbeenassigned tohim. Thisherdsmanprince, thispoor fellowwhohadstumbledinhere,wasonlycomingbackfromthespring,wherehehad been for water, and had been gone no more than fifteenminutes.But stillhewasalsocoming fromadungeon,had lostawife,ason,andaprincipality,hadcompletedahumanlifeandhadcaught a glimpse of the revolving wheel. The chances were thatthis youngmanhad alreadybeenwakenedonceor several timesbefore, and had breathed amouthful of reality, for otherwise hewouldnothavecomehereandstayedsolong.Butnowheseemedtohavebeenproperlyawakenedandbecomeripe for settingoutonthelongjourney.Itwouldtakeagoodmanyyearsjusttoteachthisyoungmantheproperpostureandbreathing.

By this look alone, this look which contained a trace ofbenevolentsympathyandthehintofarelationshipthathadcome

into being between them, the relationship between master anddisciple—by this look alone the yogi accepted the disciple. Thisonelookbanishedthefruitlessthoughtsfromthedisciple'shead.Itboundhim in discipline and service. There is nomore to be toldabout Dasa's life, for all the rest took place in a realm beyondpicturesandstories.Heneveragainlefttheforest.