Ashtavakra at Janaka’s court: after winning the debate

Tripura Rahasya · Jnana Khanda

Ashtavakra wins a debate at Janaka’s court. A visiting ascetic then asks a question that victory alone cannot answer.

The first victory

Parashurama had thought hard about everything his teacher had told him, and the thinking had left him with questions that would not settle. “I understand now that consciousness is the ground of everything,” he said to Dattatreya. “All of it rests on that one self-sufficient intelligence, and the whole arises without any immediate cause. That much I have grasped. But you also say that this intelligence lies beyond cognition, because it remains forever pure knowledge itself. If it surpasses knowledge, how is it ever to be realized? And without realizing it the goal is never reached. The goal is liberation. What is its nature? If a person can be liberated while still alive, how does such a life go on at all? There are sages who act in the world. What is the relation between their action and their pure conscious being? How can they engage in anything while they rest in absolute consciousness? That consciousness can be of only one kind, and liberation can be of only one kind. Yet look at the lives of the jnanis. Some are active. Some teach scripture. Some worship deities. Some sink into samadhi. Some live in austerity and waste their bodies away. Some instruct disciples with great clarity. Some rule kingdoms with perfect justice. Some hold open disputes with rival schools. Some write down their teaching and their experience. Others pretend to know nothing, and a few even do things that are shameful and repugnant. All of them are famous in the world as wise men. How can their lives differ so much when the liberation they share cannot differ at all? Or are there grades in knowledge and grades in liberation? Please make this clear to me. I want the truth, and I submit to you as my only teacher.”

Dattatreya was pleased with the questions, and said so. Parashurama was fit for the goal, he told him, because he had turned at last toward the right kind of inquiry, and that turning was the work of divine grace; nobody reaches anything worth reaching without it, and grace has finished its work when the mind’s inward turning grows stronger day by day. Everything his disciple had said was true. He had understood the nature of consciousness. He had not realized it. To know the properties of a thing without ever experiencing the thing itself is as useless as knowing nothing at all. True experience of the Self is the unawareness even of “I am,” and no world can survive that unawareness. Secondhand knowledge is worth no more than the memory of a dream; a treasure gained in a dream buys nothing in the morning. “I will show you what I mean,” Dattatreya said, “with a story from very long ago.”

There was once a virtuous king who ruled Videha. His name was Janaka, and he was wise, and at home in this world and in the world beyond. One year he worshiped, with the full rites of sacrifice, the Goddess who dwells in every being as its own Self. Everyone who mattered came for the occasion: Brahmins, pandits, hermits, critics, masters of the Vedas, men accustomed to their share in the sacrificial rites. At the same time Varuna, the god of the waters, wanted to perform a sacrifice of his own, and he could find no worthy men to accept his invitation. Janaka honored them properly, and they preferred Janaka.

So Varuna’s son came to Janaka’s court. He was a formidable debater, and he came disguised as a Brahmin, because his purpose was to lure the Brahmin guests away. He entered the royal chamber, blessed the king in the proper form, and then addressed him in front of the entire assembly. “King, your assembly is not what it should be. It looks like a lovely lake full of lotuses that crows and jackdaws and herons have ravaged. It would be better off without this crowd of incompetents. I do not see one person here who could be the ornament of a great assembly, the way a swan is the ornament of a lotus lake. God bless you. I will have nothing to do with this multitude of fools.”

The whole assembly rose to its feet as one man. “You charlatan of a Brahmin!” they shouted. “How dare you insult everyone here? What learning do you have that we lack? You are a wicked man and a bluffer, nothing more. You will not leave this place until you have proved your superiority over us. The great pandits of the whole world are gathered in this hall. Do you think you can subdue every one of them with your learning? Name the subject in which you imagine yourself our better!”

Varuna’s son gave them his terms. “I will outdo every one of you in debate, and in a minute. But only on this condition: if I am defeated, you throw me into the sea, and if you are defeated, I consign you to the sea, one after another. Agree to that, and we debate.” They agreed, and the debate began in earnest. The pandits went down fast before the stranger’s fallacious logic, and they were sunk in the sea by the hundreds. Below the water Varuna’s followers were waiting; they carried the sunken pandits off to their master’s sacrifice, received them with every mark of respect, and the pandits, to their own surprise, were pleased.

One of the men who went under was named Kahola. His son Ashtavakra heard what had become of his father and hurried to Janaka’s court, where he challenged the debater skilled in fallacy. This time the masquerader lost, and the young avenger condemned him to the sea on the spot. Then Varuna’s son threw off his disguise before the whole court and gave back every man he had drowned. And Kahola’s son, hot with his triumph, swelled with pride and began to behave offensively in front of the assembled court. The pandits, who had just been rescued, were made to feel small before a youth.

At that moment a woman ascetic appeared among them. The offended assembly turned to her for help, and she gave them reason to hope. She was young and lovely, her hair in matted locks, her clothing a hermit’s, and the king honored her at once and highly. When she spoke, her voice was sweet and it did not bend. “Child, son of Kahola, you are very accomplished indeed. These Brahmins have been rescued by you, because you defeated Varuna’s son in debate. I want to ask you one short question, and I want a straight answer, explicit and unreserved. What is that condition, reaching which there is immortality on every side; knowing which, every doubt and uncertainty disappears; established in which, every desire vanishes? If you have realized that unbounded state, tell me so directly.”

A difficulty inside the answer

Kahola’s son answered with complete confidence. “I know it. Listen to what I say. There is nothing in the world that is not known to me, for I have studied all the sacred literature with great care. Here is my answer. What you ask about is the primal and efficient cause of the universe. It has itself no beginning, no middle, and no end, and time and space do not touch it. It is pure, unbroken, single Consciousness. The whole world is manifested in it the way a city appears in a mirror. That is the transcendental state. Realizing it, a person becomes immortal. There is no room left for doubt or uncertainty, because ignorance has no more cause, just as it has none once the countless reflected images have been seen for what they are; and there is no room left for desire, because transcendence is then experienced. It is also unknowable, because there is no one to know it besides itself. Ascetic, I have now told you the truth as the scriptures contain it.”

The hermit waited until he had finished. “Young sage, what you say is rightly said, and everyone accepts it. But I draw your attention to one part of your answer. You admitted that it is unknowable, since no knower stands outside consciousness. You also said that knowing it confers immortality and perfection. How are those two statements to be reconciled? Either admit that consciousness is unknowable, that it is not known to you, and conclude from that that it does not exist; or say that it exists and that you know it, in which case it is not unknowable. It is plain that you speak from secondhand knowledge gathered out of the scriptures. You have not realized it, and so your knowledge is not your own. Think about it. Your words amount to this: you have personal knowledge of the images and none of the mirror. How can that be? Tell me now whether you are not ashamed of this evasion before King Janaka and his assembly.”

The reprimand silenced him. He stood for some time with his head bent, mortified and ashamed, turning the problem over, and he could find no satisfactory answer to her question. Then the Brahmin youth submitted to her in great humility. “Ascetic, it is true. I cannot find the answer to your question. I submit to you as your disciple. Please tell me how the two scriptural statements are to be reconciled. But I assure you that I did not tell a deliberate lie. I know that whatever merit a liar has is cancelled by his lies, and that he is condemned as unworthy.”

His sincerity pleased her, and she spoke to him in the hearing of the whole assembly. “Child, there are many who live in delusion because they do not know this sublime truth. Dry polemics will not bring anyone to Reality; it is well guarded on every side. Of all the people gathered in this hall, no one has experienced Reality except the king and myself. It is not a subject for discussion. The most brilliant logic can approach it and can never attain it. Logic and a keen intellect leave it untouched, and yet it can be realized, through service to one’s Guru and the grace of God. Son of a sage, listen to me carefully, because this is hard to understand even while it is being explained. To hear it a thousand times over is useless unless you verify the teaching yourself, by investigation into the Self with a concentrated mind. Think of a prince who is convinced that the string of pearls still hanging at his neck has been stolen. No words persuade him otherwise. He believes it only when he finds the necklace at his own throat by his own effort. In the same way, however clever a man may be, he will never know his own self through the mere teaching of others unless he realizes it for himself. And he will never realize it at all while his mind is turned outward.”

“A lamp illumines everything around it, and it does not illumine itself or another light. It shines of itself, needing no other source. Things are visible in sunlight without any further illumination. Because lights need no illumining, do we say they are not known, or that they do not exist? So it is with lights and with everything the conscious self makes known; what doubt can you then have about abstract consciousness, the Self? Lights and things are insentient and cannot be aware of themselves, yet their existence and their manifestation are beyond doubt. That means they are self-luminous. Can you not investigate in the same way, with the mind turned inward, whether the all-comprehending Self is conscious or not conscious? That Consciousness is absolute. It transcends the three states of waking, dream, and sleep, and it comprises the whole universe and makes it manifest. Nothing can be apprehended without its light. Would anything be apparent to you if there were no consciousness? Even to say that nothing is apparent, as in sleep, requires the light of consciousness. Is your awareness of your own unawareness in sleep not due to consciousness? You infer that its light is eternal; then investigate closely whether that light is its own or not. Everyone fails in this investigation, however learned and proficient, because the mind is not bent inward; it moves restlessly outward. As long as thoughts keep rising, the turning inward has not been accomplished, and as long as the mind is not inward, the Self cannot be realized. Turning inward means the absence of desire. How can the mind be fixed within while desires are not given up?”

“Therefore become dispassionate and abide as the Self. That abiding is spontaneous; no effort is needed to be what you are. It is realized after thoughts are eliminated and the investigation itself comes to rest. Recall your state after you have come out of it, and then you will know everything, and you will know how it can be knowable and unknowable at the same time. Realizing the unknowable in this way, one abides in immortality forever. I have finished. Salutations to you, and farewell. But you have not yet understood my words, because this is the first time you have heard the truth. This king, the wisest of men, can make you understand. Ask him again, and he will clear your doubts.”

When she had finished, the king and the whole assembly honored her, and in the same instant she dissolved into the air and vanished from human sight. “Rama,” Dattatreya said, “I have now told you the method of Self-realization.”

The king becomes the teacher

Parashurama marveled, and he wanted more. “Lord, this ancient legend is wonderful. Please tell me what Ashtavakra asked the king next, and what instruction he received. I had never heard this story, so full of sublime truths, before today. Master, I want to hear it in full.” So Dattatreya went on with the discourse at Janaka’s court. The moment the holy ascetic passed from sight, Ashtavakra, the son of a sage, turned to Janaka, who sat surrounded by his whole company of pandits, and asked him for the full explanation of her brief and recondite speech. “King of Videha, I have not clearly understood the ascetic’s teaching, because of its brevity. Explain it to me, Lord of mercy. How am I to know the unknowable?”

Janaka answered as if the question surprised him. “Son of a sage, listen to me. It is neither unknowable, nor does it remain unknown at any moment. Tell me how even the ablest of masters could guide anyone to something that always remains unknown. If a Guru can teach, that means he knows what he is saying. This transcendental state is quite easy, or very nearly impossible, according to whether the mind is turned inward in peace or runs outward in restlessness. It could not be taught if it always remained unknown. The very fact that the Vedas point to it, even indirectly, as ‘not this, not this,’ shows that the knowledge can be imparted to others. Whatever you see becomes known by that one abstract intelligence. Now analyze carefully the underlying consciousness which, abstract and apart from material objects, illumines them all the same, and know that to be the truth. Sage, whatever is not self-luminous can only fall within the orbit of intelligence; it cannot be intelligence itself. Intelligence is that by which objects are known, and it could not be what it is if it became the object of knowledge. What is intelligible must always differ from intelligence, or else intelligence could not make it known. Intelligence in the abstract admits of no parts; parts are the mark of objects, and that is why objects take on shapes. Watch absolute intelligence carefully after eliminating everything else from it. Just as a mirror takes on the hues of its images, abstract intelligence assumes the different shapes of objects, because it holds them within itself.”