Only once was the wise Darnu partially recalled from complete
unconsciousness and at that time he felt in some remote corner of his
mind a sensation of mild astonishment.
This was caused by the appearance of the sage Purana. Exactly like Darnu
he walked up to the temple, read the inscription above the entrance, and
then going in, began to read the figures on the walls. The wise Purana
was very unlike his stern companion. He was kindly and had a round face.
A cross-section of his trunk would have formed a circle, his pleasant
eyes sparkled, and his lips wore a smile. In his wisdom he was never
obstinate like Darnu, and he sought blessed peace far more zealously than
he did freedom.
Walking around the temple, he came to the recess, reverenced the deity,
and then, with a glance at the brook and the fig tree, he said:
“Here is a deity with a pleasant smile, and there is a stream of
fresh water and a fig-tree. What more does a man need for pleasant
contemplation? Yes, and there’s Darnu. He is so blessed that the birds
are building their nests upon him....”
The appearance of his wise friend was not especially joyous, but Purana,
gazing at him reverently, said to himself:
“There’s no doubt he’s blessed; but he always loved too stern methods of
contemplation. I do not aspire to the higher stages of blessedness, but I
hope to tell the dwellers upon earth what I see on the lower planes.”
Then after enjoying the water and the juicy fruit, he sat down
comfortably not far from Darnu, and he too prepared for contemplation in
the proper way: that is, by baring his abdomen and gazing at it as the
other sage had done.
So passed a time, more slowly than with Darnu, for the kindly Purana
often interrupted his contemplation to enjoy the water and the juicy
fruit. Finally out of the navel of the second wise man sprang a bamboo
trunk and this attained a height of fifty joints, the number of the years
of his life. On the top again sat “Necessity,” but in his semi-conscious
state she seemed to him to smile pleasantly and he replied in the same
way.
“Who are you, kind deity?” he asked.
“I am Necessity, who has governed the fifty years of your life. All that
you have done, you did not do, but I did them, for you are but a leaf
swept along by the stream and I am the mistress of every movement.”
“Blessed art thou,” said Purana. “I see that I have not come to you in
vain. Continue in the future to execute your tasks for yourself and me
and I will watch for you in pleasant contemplation.”
He lost himself in sleep with a happy smile on his lips. So he continued
his pleasant contemplation, from time to time filling his gourd with
water or picking up fruit which had fallen to the ground at his feet.
Each time he stirred with less and less pleasure, since the drowsiness of
contemplation was more and more strongly mastering him, and since he had
already eaten the fruit which was nearest to him, he had to exert himself
to obtain them from the tree.
Finally he said to himself:
“I’m a foolish man far removed from truth, and that’s why I have such
foolish cares. Isn’t it because this good deity is so slow with her
revelations? Here before me on the tree is ripe fruit and my stomach is
empty.... But doesn’t the law of necessity say: ‘where there is an hungry
stomach and fruit, the latter must of necessity enter the former’?...
So, kind necessity, I submit to your power.... Isn’t that the greatest
blessedness?”
Thereupon he buried himself in complete contemplation like Darnu, and
he waited for necessity to manifest herself. In order to facilitate her
task, he held his mouth open facing the fig tree....
He waited one day, two, three.... Gradually the smile congealed upon his
face, his body dried up, the pleasant rotundity of his form disappeared,
the fat under his skin wasted away and the sinews stood out distinctly
through it. When at last the fruit ripened and fell, striking Purana on
the nose,—the sage did not hear it fall nor did he feel the blow....
Another pair of doves built a nest in the folds of his turban, fledglings
peeped soon in the nest, and the shoulders of Purana were covered thickly
with the droppings of the birds. When the luxurious vines had enveloped
Purana, it was impossible to distinguish him from his companion—the
obstinate sage struggling against Necessity from the good-natured sage
willingly submitting to it.
Absolute silence reigned in the temple, and the gleaming idol looked down
on the two sages with its enigmatic and strange smile.
Fruit ripened and fell from the trees, the brook bubbled on, white clouds
sailed across the blue sky and looked down into the interior of the
temple and the sages sat on without manifesting any signs of life—one in
the blessedness of denial, the other in the blessedness of submission to
Necessity.
V
Eternal night had spread its black wings over both and no living being
would ever have known the truth which the two sages had perceived at
the summit of the fifty joints of the reed. But before the last spark
which illumined in the darkness the consciousness of wise Darnu had been
finally extinguished,—he heard again the same voice as before: Necessity
was laughing in the gathering darkness, and this laughter, taciturn and
soundless, seemed to Darnu a presentiment of death....
“Poor Darnu,” said the implacable deity, “pitiable sage! You thought you
could leave me, you hoped that you could lay aside my yoke and by turning
into an immobile column purchase thereby the consciousness of spiritual
liberty....”
“Yes, I am free,” answered the thought of the obstinate sage. “I alone in
the darkness of your servants do not obey the commands of Necessity....”
“Look here, poor Darnu....”
Suddenly with his inner eye he saw again the meaning of all the
inscriptions and calculations on the walls of the temple. The numbers
quietly changed, they grew or diminished automatically and one of them
especially attracted his attention. It was the number 999,998.... And
as he looked at it, two units more fell on the wall and the long number
quietly began to change. Darnu trembled and Necessity smiled again.
“You understood, poor sage? In every hundred thousand of my blind
servants there is always one obstinate man like you, and one lazy man
like Purana.... You have both come here.... Greetings, ye sages, who have
completed my calculations....”
Two tears rolled down from the dull eyes of the sage; they quietly rolled
down over his dried up cheeks and fell upon the ground like two ripe
fruits from the tree of his aged wisdom.
Beyond the walls of the temple everything went as usual. The sun shone,
the winds blew, the people in the valley busied themselves with their
cares, the clouds gathered in the heavens.... As they crossed the
mountains, they became heavy and weak. A storm broke in the mountains....
Again as in times of yore, a foolish shepherd from a neighboring hillside
drove hither his flock and from another direction a young and foolish
shepherdess drove hither her flock. They met by the brook and the recess
out of which the deity looked at them with its strange smile, and while
the thunder roared, they embraced and cooed, just as 999,999 pairs had
done in the same situation. If wise Darnu could have seen and heard them,
he would certainly have said in the greatness of his wisdom:
“Fools, they are doing this not for themselves but for the pleasure of
Necessity.”
The storm passed, the sun again played upon the grass, which was still
covered with the sparkling drops of rain and lighted up the darkened
interior of the temple.
“Look,” said the shepherdess, “see those two new statues. They never were
here before.”
“Hush,” answered the shepherd. “Old men say that these are worshippers of
the ancient deity. But they can’t do any harm.... Stay with them and I’ll
go and find your stray sheep.”
He went out and left her alone with the idol and the two sages. Because
she was a little afraid and because she was filled with youthful love
and delight, she could not remain in one place but kept walking around
the temple and singing loud songs of love and joy. When the storm was
entirely passed and the edge of the dark cloud had hidden itself behind
the distant summits of the range of mountains, she pulled some damp
flowers and decked the idol with them. To conceal its unpleasant smile,
she stuck in its mouth a fruit of the mountain nut with its leaves and
stem.
Then she looked at it and laughed aloud.
That did not seem enough. She wanted to adorn the old men with flowers.
But since good Purana still carried the nest with the young birds, she
turned her attention to stern Darnu, whose nest had been abandoned. She
removed the empty nest, cleaned of bird droppings the turban, hair and
shoulders of the sage and washed his face with spring water. She thought
that in this way she was recompensing the gods for their protection of
her happiness. Because even this seemed little and she was overflowing
with joy, she bent over and suddenly the blessed Darnu, standing on the
very threshold of Nirvana, felt on his dry lips the vigorous kiss of the
foolish girl....
Soon after the shepherd returned with a lamb which he had found, and the
two went off, singing a cheerful song.