as told to me by Harsha
"What," Narada wanted to know, "is Karma? And what is Maya?"
Krishna said, "I'll tell you, but later. Right now we have to go on a journey through this desert."
And the two began walking. On and on, deeper and deeper into the sun baked sands, where water is a dirty word and thirst can kill.
A long time later Krishna was done. Dying of the killer thirst, every drop of fluid in his body sucked by the hungry desert air.
"Narada," he says, "I can't go further. If you can, go on and if you find water, fetch it for me. Without it, I am dead."
So Narada staggered on and on. Up and over a dune, and the next, and the next. Then suddenly from the top of a dune, he sees what looks like an oasis. With his last bit of energy, he stumbles towards it. It is not just an oasis, but a settlement. Drawn by the irresistible smell of water, he makes his way to the village well where a maiden is drawing water. She sees him and smiles.
She lifts the pot high and pours. Narada drinks till he can drink no more. Till all the water is replenished. Till he revives, like a flower in a first summer shower. She realizes he is dead beat and supports him as he staggers. Under her guidance, she takes him to her home where her father takes pity on Narada. He is fed and allowed to sleep the sleep of the truly exhausted. He awakes a day later and eats.
For want of anything better to do, he follows her father to the fields. First he watches as the father works, then out of gratitude, offers to help. Work revives him and later that evening, he goes back with the father to share the simple meal. And days pass.
The farmer realizes that his guest has sterling qualities and gently sounds him out about the possibility of marrying his daughter. Narada is ecstatic and the wedding takes place.
In due course, a son is born, then a daughter. The father dies and Narada takes over the farm. Then one day it begins to rain. It rains without cessation, without pause, as if the heavens have scooped up all the water in creation and are dumping it on that little tract of land. The stream near the village swells like the belly of a pregnant woman and delivers itself of an all consuming flood.
The waters rise malevolently, relentlessly. The hut is no longer a shelter. The family climbs to the roof as the water continues to rise. Pretty soon the roof is submerged and as Narada holds on to his wife with one hand, he clutches his son and daughter with the other. A sudden tidal current sweeps him head over heels and he loses his grip on his family. In his anguish, he cries their names and beats frantically at the waters.
He sobs, his heart broken with the pain of sudden, irreparable loss when suddenly he hears a voice louder than the tempest, "Narada! Where is my water?"
He opens his eyes and is sitting at Krishna's feet. Exactly where he was before the voyage into the desert began.
"That life you lived," Krishna smiles, "is Maya. An illusion. Every life you live, though the centuries, is all just that. Illusion. And the fact of having to live through these illusions till your eyes are open to the truth, that is your Karma. Every human being's Karma.
Today you know you have broken free of the shackles of illusion forever. You have attained Nirvana and that is nothing but the realization that all life is a dream. Pleasant, and unpleasant, in turn, but just a dream. A dream from which you wake to a full, complete consciousness that nothing really matters in the end. Except this one fact: That your soul has passed unscathed by it all."
The End.
* footnote of a personal nature:
Yes. Nightmares are frightening when you are having them. When you wake, what remains?
Just the knowledge that they are, all of them, phantasmagoria of the mind. Shades, without substance.
Find peace, my very dear friend and stay safe. Come back to us smiling.
