Redemption

Seeing King Shuddhodana lying in his deathbed, Buddha approached in. It was the king’s last wish to see Buddha in order to redeem himself in death. Or perhaps, it was just his love for his son that he wanted to see his beloved Siddhartha before he died. Whatever it was, Buddha accepted the king’s invitation. It had been many years since he had visited Kapilvastu. The last time he was here, young Rahul had asked his inheritance. But Buddha persuaded him into asceticism. Buddha knew that the king didn’t like his heir being drawn toward ascetic life. However, the king was dying now. Nothing that he liked or disliked mattered anymore. And his last wish… Well, Buddha had to accept it for the king he was.

Anand and his fellows stayed in the garden outside the palace, where Buddha was staying. Meanwhile, Buddha went to meet the king. He was informed that the king hadn’t stepped out of his chamber for many days. He was too weak to speak and sometimes he even didn’t recognize people. He hallucinated things and people: his beloved wife Maya, his grandchild and even his son too. However Buddha was certain that the king would recognize him. How wouldn’t he? The king had mourned over his son’s departure for most of his life. He could forget everything in the world for a moment, but he could never forget his beloved son. Although, Siddhartha was long gone. 

As Buddha stepped into the king’s chamber, the guards left after bowing, leaving them alone. Buddha glanced over the chamber. It was still the same as it was years ago. Not a single thing had been changed. Buddha’s presence brought a strange energy into the chamber that weak king also tilted his head to see Buddha standing near the door.

“Gautama,” the king gasped. His voice was too weak and shaky.

Buddha glanced at the king. Surprisingly, he seemed weaker than Buddha last remembered him. The king’s wrinkled eyes requested Buddha to come forth and have a seat near the bed. The king’s body was so weak that even bones were visible. It seemed as if he had not eaten in several days. Buddha looked at the king’s white beard. He had really grown old. And why wouldn’t he? It had been a lifetime ago when Buddha played with the king as a child.

Buddha walked toward the bed and stood closer to it, from where the king could see him properly. Buddha looked into the king’s eyes while the king also stared into his.

“Gautama, you have come?” the king gasped again.

“As you have requested, your majesty,” Buddha said softly.

A light smile crossed the king’s dry lips as he heard Buddha saying him ‘your majesty’. Usually, people addressed Buddha with the word ‘my lord’. Even the great emperors bowed down to his feet. Such a great fortune! The king had wished for his son that the great monarchs would bow down to his feet, when he was born. However, he hadn’t expected him to be an ascetic. He could have become the greatest emperor of this land. But he became something greater.

“Then you must know why I have invited you here,” the king said.

“I can assume, perhaps,” Buddha said.

The king looked into his eyes for a brief moment. Then he suddenly spoke, “No. It’s not what you’re thinking. I haven’t invited you here because--” he paused. “I’ve invited you to provide me a way to redeem myself.”

Buddha nodded quietly.

“I’m approaching toward my death, Gautama. Any moment could be my last. And I desire of Nirvana. I know if there is anyone who could guide me towards liberation, it’s only you. I cannot be guided by your disciples since my mind has been covered with severe smoke of distraction. Only you can blow the smoke away and enlighten me to the truth.”

Buddha smiled faintly at the king. “I cannot enlighten you unless you help yourself. I’m not a sorcerer, your majesty. Nor am I the god. A man can only be enlightened if he wishes to be, if he is ready to be. I’m a mere medium,” he said.

“Then be my medium, Gautama. Because… I’m ready to embrace your path,” the king requested.

“It is not wrong to love your child,” Buddha said softly. “After all, a child is the most precious thing a person can have.” Meanwhile, the king looked at him in bewilderment. He hadn’t hoped that Buddha would talk about them. “However, the attachment is quite harmful. Human life is like a season of nature. As the leaves fall in autumn, we all meet to our death someday. But as the spring arrives, nature starts to bloom again. Likewise, we are reborn with a new body and with a new adventurous life. But the nature never mourns on what is lost. And we should adapt that quality of nature and stop mourning for what is gone. That is the only way that we can allow a spring to bloom in our souls again. It is the only way we can be at peace.”

“I have stopped mourning,” the king muttered. “I’ve stopped mourning long ago.”

“Have you?” Buddha frowned. “King Dasrath died due to his love for his son. And I cannot see any other reason for a mighty king to approach toward death before his time. You’re still mourning, your majesty.”

The king looked into Buddha’s eyes. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had never stopped mourning on his son and his family. Because everyone he loved, abandoned him throughout his life. He was left alone with this enormous kingdom. Moreover, he hadn’t left with an heir. His eyes glittered as he faced his true self into Buddha’s eyes.

“But I can stop it, can’t I?” he gasped.

“You can,” Buddha nodded. “But you won’t.”

“But why?”

“Because perhaps it is too late for you to leave me. You have been consumed by grief.”

“Then show me a way out of this grief. I don’t want to die without my mind at peace,” the king begged.

Buddha remained quiet for a moment. “You have unachieved dreams, haven’t you?” Buddha asked.

“Perhaps, I have,” King Shuddhodana nodded weakly.

“For your mind to be at peace, you need to live those dreams,” Buddha suggested.

“I cannot,” the king shook his head. “Those dreams were perished long ago.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Buddha said.

The king looked into his twinkling eyes for a brief moment.

“I always wanted a happy family with my wife and my children,” the king confessed. “A part of that dream died along with Maya. I couldn’t dream that sight after her demise.” He remained quiet for a moment, staring blankly at Buddha. “And I wanted my son.”

“Mother cherishes happily,” Buddha informed in a formal voice.

“Maya?” the king gasped. “She--”

“Yes, she is happy with whatever she had.”

“But how do you know?”

“After my enlightenment, I could travel across the worlds. Even the heavens. I visited her for three months in order to learn how she was,” Buddha replied.

“She loved you even when you were in her womb,” the king said gladly.

“I’m aware of that,” Buddha smiled. “And as your last wish, I’ll take you to her for that it might bring you peace.”

“Will you?” the king frowned in surprise.

“Yes, father,” Buddha murmured.

As the king heard the word ‘father’ from his mouth, he felt his heart lightening from the emotional grief that he had been carrying for all these years. He felt his chaotic mind achieving peace slowly. It was like the sound of silence had possessed him. Perhaps that was the only thing he wanted to hear his entire life. And now, he had heard it finally. He didn’t care even if the death consumed him right away.

Buddha grabbed the king’s hand gently and caressed his fingers upon his palm. The king stared at him astonishingly, while Buddha wore a beautiful smile on his face. In a few moments, the king felt his mind staring in a singularity. A single point of existence. He didn’t feel his body. He didn’t feel his senses. He didn’t feel anything. The next vision was a beautiful full-moon night where he saw Buddha sat in meditation while two lotus floated beautifully amidst the air facing toward Buddha. The full moon shone behind him gloriously. And suddenly his vision swirled around Buddha’s forehead, upon the Ajna Chakra and his whole vision went blurry and vivid as white.

As the king opened his eyes, he found himself in a dreamy place. The place had glorious tall palaces and magnificent buildings that were impossible to build on earth. They were so enormously and magnificently built. The floor was entirely covered with clouds and a white smoke. And the palaces were hazy. It felt as if the king was standing in the heaven. All the surroundings seemed bright and milky white. Everything was more vivid here than it could be on earth. Surprisingly, he saw a beautiful young lady sitting on a lonely bench amid the clouds and smoke. She was facing her back at him. Her glimmering white clothes were cherishing her beauty so greatly that for a moment even a nymph would look less pretty before her. The king could recognize her. She was the woman whom he had been married for years, who gave birth to his beloved son, Siddhartha.

“Maya!” the king called as he approached her.

Queen Maya turned around to see the king rushing toward her. She stood up as she recognized the king. Her beautiful lips emerged in a broad smile seeing her husband before her eyes. She quickly bowed to him as he stopped before her. The king held her by shoulders and embraced her tightly.

“Maya,” the king whispered in her ear. “Finally, I meet you.” He closed his eyes in order to enjoy one of the happiest moment of his life to its core.

And then Buddha caressed his fingers through the king’s white hair while the king’s body lay motionless in the bed. He glanced at his happy face. Perhaps it was the most cheerful expression he had had in last many years. Buddha looked at his face for a brief moment and then closed the king’s eyes, while the king rested in peace.  

Kaling Vijay

As the moon rose high in the sky and the beautiful twilight faded away, the emperor heard terrible cries emerging from the battlefield. He heard faint screaming of women and weeping children shaking the delicate heart of the night. Rushing out his tent, he walked toward the battlefield which he had just triumphed. The last battle of the rebellion against him. The last battle to make Magadh the greatest empire in the world. And he had proudly won. He had won the glorious title of the universal emperor that no king had ever won and probably no one would ever win. The furious lion of Maurya Dynasty had roared for the last time and it would echo in all directions. Let the Greeks and Syrians hear who had been fancying to invade this empire that what he had achieved today. Or even they would bow down to his feet. While all the thoughts of his glorious victory were consoling his mind, he constantly heard those disturbing cries and screams. Now even his own body started to burn.

As he gazed in the horizon at the battlefield, the misery of fate struck him like the Vajra of Indra. He saw thousands of pyres burning and thousands of corpses laying on the ground, severely wounded and rotting on the beautiful face of the earth. He saw thousands of widows crying over their dead husbands and even more orphans screaming for their father. He saw the poor mothers begging the great lord to return them their sons. And when the god didn’t listen, they cursed the one who unleashed this dreadful act upon their children. They cursed him for lifetime of misery. They cursed him in the most hideous words that ever existed. They cursed him for the darkest future a man could get. They cursed him for the agony beyond the hell.

The wind of misery blew so quietly as if every particle of the world was mourning for the dead and cursing the emperor for his dreadful acts upon the children of nature. He saw the flag of Magadh hoisting gloriously in the middle of the battlefield, just beside the pile of corpses that lay savagely wounded on the ground. And there he saw his magnificent sword buried in someone’s heart. Its spectacular blade glimmered as the moonlight reflected upon its surface. But the glimmer died where the blood had stained the blade. The emperor stood there, frozen, mortified, cursed. He felt his knees shaking above his feet and his whole body burning with the fire of those countless pyres. He felt his heart sinking into darkness of misery that was unleashed upon him by his own fate. He felt his heart burning in utterly infinite agony, unleashing the curses of all those poor mothers, widows and orphans. And amidst the smoke of misery, his heart flowed the purest tears from his eyes. The tears of grief.

“What have I done?” cried the emperor in agony. “I wanted to create an enormous unconquerable empire. And I… I killed the people whom I wanted to be a part of it. Those people whom I wanted to call mine, I killed them along with a last hope of eternal glory. If this is a triumph, then what is losing? If this is the victory, then what is destruction? These poor mothers are cursing the man who took away the lives of their beloved sons. These widows are crying because of the man who took away the lives of their holder. I unleashed the most dreadful disaster upon these innocent children by snatching away their fathers from their lives. I, who wanted to become father of all, couldn’t even understand the heart of a child. I have become the greatest emperor on the earth, and yet I failed everything that I had. I failed my dynasty. I failed my grandfather. I failed my mother. I failed Devi and my children. I failed Magadh. What have I become? A bloodthirsty monster who wants everyone that don’t bow down to him dead. And today, I’ve become their darkest nightmare. A monster who kills young men to feed his arrogance. Even though I had won the three world, what would I do if I have no one to share it with? O God! What have I done?”

And thus, shaken by the grief of the destruction that was unleashed by him, he cried the purest tears. An arrow of righteousness struck his heart, piercing the armour of fury and rage. As soon as his heart knew the peace, grief of all his mischiefs came rushing toward him, striking his inner self down. The emperor fell upon his knees, struck by the sudden flow of emotions and shattered on the dusty battlefield.

The beautiful night and the glorious moon witnessed the conqueror of the world shattering like plant in storm. They witnessed his grief. They saw him suffering in the agony of all those who had died because of him. That was the process of transformation. That grief indeed wiped off all the rage from his heart and gave it peace. The world had never seen such a conqueror, and nor had it seen him falling apart.

However, the real glory was yet to come; for him to become the emperor of the emperors. The one who would rise beyond the glory of three worlds. The one whose silent roar would echo through the eternity while only one heart would beat in this whole empire. The one who would become beloved of gods, before whom the entire world would bow in respect, not in fear. The one who would rule the millions of hearts with his righteousness and peace. The emperor that was laying amidst the dust, grieving on his deeds, was not really the conqueror of the world. But the one who would rise after the nightfall, would bring a new era to the mankind. His journey would begin now. Dharmashoka would rise while Chandashoka had burnt in grief.

And then, as the new day began, the emperor rose with a new heart in his body, the purest one. And the rising sun witnessed the white light of righteousness spreading across the horizon as the conqueror of three worlds rose upon his feet.