Shuka’s Liberation: Vyasa’s Son, Janaka’s Test

Rama asked, “Gurudev, would a father ever send his own son somewhere to be tested?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, this is a strange story. The rishi Vyasa once sent his son Shuka to King Janaka. The boy already knew everything, yet the father told him to go and be tested, because knowing a thing and trusting what you know are two different matters. Listen.”

The Child

Vyasa had a son, and his name was Shuka.

Vyasa was a great rishi. He had composed the Mahabharata and arranged the Vedas. His hermitage was crowded with students, and kings came to it, and brahmins in great number.

Shuka’s birth was a strange one.

Vyasa had asked his wife for a son after many years of tapas. And when Shuka was born, he was no ordinary child.

Many people said that Shuka had been born from a parrot, and that his name, Shuka, the word for parrot, came from this. Something of the parrot did live in him: the sweetness in his voice, and the bright shine in his eyes.

Shuka was small, though his eyes were not the eyes of a small child. Something very old lived inside them.

From his earliest years, Shuka asked questions.

“Father, who am I? What is all this? And what happens after we die?”

Vyasa answered every one of his questions.

Vyasa had every answer. He had composed the Mahabharata, read every sutra, and known every Upanishad.

But one thing about Shuka caught his attention. The way Shuka asked his questions belonged to someone who already knew the answer and wanted only to have it confirmed, and it carried nothing of a child in it.

Then, one day, Shuka turned six.

He was sitting on a woven mat, his eyes closed.

Vyasa watched him for a long while. Shuka’s body was a child’s body, yet the way he sat belonged to a rishi.

Vyasa asked him to open his eyes. Shuka opened them.

Shuka said, “Father, I have found it.”

Vyasa asked, “Found what, Shuka?”

“That which stands behind everything. I am that.”

Vyasa said, “Shuka, you are small, and your knowledge is vast.”

“Father, tell me one thing. Is it enough, this that I have found?”

Vyasa felt that this was no ordinary question. He understood that his son held more than knowledge, that the boy needed one thing further: conviction.

The knowledge was his. What he lacked was the conviction that it was real.

In his heart Vyasa decided he would send the boy to Janaka.

The Decision

Vyasa’s thought ran this way: he could teach the boy himself, yet he was the boy’s father. A lesson learned from a father never feels complete to a son, because to a son a father stays a father and can never quite become a guru.

He thought that another guru was needed, someone who was no father to Shuka, someone who could put the son to the test.

And then a single name rose in his mind: Janaka, the king of Mithila.

Janaka was a king, and a knower as well. He had attained liberation in life while still seated on his throne. And Janaka held one particular gift: he knew how to test a man.

Vyasa called Shuka to him.

Vyasa said, “Shuka, go to Mithila. King Janaka is there. Meet him, and whatever you wish to ask me, ask it of him instead.”

Shuka asked, “Why Janaka, father? You yourself are a knower.”

Vyasa said, “Shuka, I am your father, so my words will never feel complete to you. Janaka is nothing to you, so his words will feel complete.”

Shuka heard this and said, “I understand. I will go.”

Vyasa placed a few things into a small bag: a little food, a little water, and a letter meant for Janaka.

Vyasa said, “Shuka, give this letter to Janaka. He will know what to do.”

Shuka took the letter.

Vyasa looked at his son for a long moment, then said, “Shuka, come back.”

Shuka said, “I will come back.”

The Journey

Shuka set out toward Mithila.

It was many days of walking, and the traveler was a small child in plain clothes.

People along the road stared at him, for it was a strange thing to see one so young walking alone. But when they looked into his eyes, they said nothing, because something lived in those eyes that belonged to no child.

One night Shuka slept on the bank of a river, and a dream came to him.

In the dream he stood before King Janaka, yet Janaka did not see him. Shuka waved his hands in front of Janaka, and still Janaka did not see him. Shuka was left astonished.

In the morning he recalled the dream and thought that perhaps it was a sign: that Janaka would not see him easily, and that he would have to wait.

Shuka continued his journey, and after many days he reached Mithila.

The Gate

Mithila was a great city, and guards stood at the gate of the royal palace.

A guard looked at Shuka: a small boy in plain clothes, a little bag in his hand.

The guard asked, “Boy, who are you?”

“I am the son of Vyasa. I have come to meet King Janaka.”

The guard said, “Wait here. I will go in and tell them.”

The guard went inside and carried word to King Janaka. Janaka was seated in the royal court at the time. He heard the message and said, “Let the boy wait at the gate. Send no further word, and do not call him in.”

The guard returned and said, “Boy, the king is occupied for now. Wait outside.”

Shuka said, “I will wait.”

The Waiting

Shuka stood at the gate, from morning into afternoon, from afternoon into evening, and from evening into night.

At night the guards changed. The old guard said to the new one, “This boy has been standing here a very long time.”

The new one asked, “A long time? He has only been standing since this morning.”

The old one said, “Yes, and standing like this is beyond any child. This is tapas.”

The new guard looked at Shuka and fell silent.

The next day too Shuka stood in the same place. He drank no water and ate no food.

On the third day too he stood exactly as before.

On the fourth day a minister passed by and saw Shuka.

The minister asked, “Boy, who are you, and why do you stand here?”

“I am the son of Vyasa. I have come to meet King Janaka.”

“How many days have you stood here?”

“Three days.”

The minister, astonished, said, “Boy, are you eating nothing? Why?”

“No. Because I must remain standing here.”

Hearing this, the minister went inside and told the king.

Janaka heard him and said, “Minister, leave it for now. Shuka has his own waiting to learn.”

On the fifth day too he stood in the same place, and on the sixth day as well.

On the seventh day Janaka summoned a guard and asked, “Is that boy still there?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Bring him in.”

The Meeting

Shuka was brought inside, and Janaka looked at him.

Shuka was small and thin. Seven days of hunger had sunk his eyes into his face. Yet those eyes held a stillness that Janaka had not seen in anyone for many years.

Janaka asked, “Shuka, you stood outside for seven days. You were not troubled? Why not?”

Shuka said, “Your Majesty, I stood outside, yet I was never outside.”

Janaka asked, “Meaning?”

“Meaning that my body stood outside. But I am not the body. I belonged to that consciousness which is everywhere, and for it there is no such thing as ‘outside.’”

Janaka heard this, then said, “Shuka, where is your father’s letter?”

Shuka gave him the letter, and Janaka read it.

The letter was short: “Janaka, this is my son. He has knowledge, but not conviction. Give him conviction, for my sake and for his own. Vyasa.”

Janaka folded the letter and said, “Shuka, sit.”

Shuka sat down.

Janaka said, “Shuka, your father has written that you are to be tested. So I will test you.”

Shuka said, “I am ready, Your Majesty.”

The Tests

Janaka put Shuka through many tests.

The first test.

Janaka settled Shuka in a magnificent chamber where every comfort had been arranged: a soft bed, fragrant flowers, sweet music, and delicious food.

Shuka was told to stay there some days, and stay he did.

But he did not sleep on the bed. He spread a mat on the floor. He touched none of the flowers, listened to none of the music, and ate only a little of the food, just enough to stay alive.

Janaka watched this from a distance and smiled.

The second test.

Janaka summoned a beautiful apsara, a celestial dancer, and had her seated before Shuka.

The apsara came, radiant with beauty, and she looked toward Shuka. Shuka looked at her too, without the smallest reaction.

The apsara reached her hand toward Shuka’s hand, yet Shuka neither drew his hand away nor stirred in the least.

The apsara stayed silent a while, then rose and said, “Your Majesty, this child is no ordinary one.”

The third test.

Janaka spoke a cruel thing: “Shuka, word has reached me. Your father is dead.”

Shuka said only this: “Very well.”

Janaka asked, “No grief?”

“Your Majesty, grief would come, but it would be the body’s grief. Within me, something would stay still.”

Janaka said, “Shuka, the word I gave you was false. Your father is alive.”

Shuka said, “I knew.”

“How?”

“Your Majesty, my father sent me here; it was not his time to die. That is a matter of simple reasoning. But in any case I kept my response the same for both the truth and the lie.”

Hearing this, Janaka smiled.

The fourth test.

Janaka said to Shuka, “Shuka, I have a task for you. Fetch me a pot of water from the river. But take care: the pot must stay full, and not one drop may fall. And I will send a soldier with you, sword in hand. If even a single drop falls, he will kill you.”

Shuka heard this and set off.

Shuka went to the river, filled the pot, and returned. Many things lay along the way: an apsara was dancing, an elephant went past, and a royal procession moved by in splendor.

But Shuka looked at none of them. He kept his attention on the pot, and he reached Janaka with the pot still full to the brim.

Janaka asked, “Shuka, what did you see along the way?”

“Your Majesty, I saw only the road, and the pot.”

“Only that?”

“Only that.”

Hearing this, Janaka smiled.

The fifth test.

Janaka asked Shuka to sit in the royal court. Many people filled that assembly: ministers, officers of the realm, brahmins, and some ordinary folk as well.

Janaka said to one minister, “Minister, insult Shuka loudly, in front of everyone.”

The minister came before Shuka and said many vile things to him. He abused the boy’s father, abused his name, abused his body.

Shuka said calmly, “Minister, you are right. My father, my name, my body, all of them are wretched. But I am not those things.”

Hearing this, the minister fell silent.

Janaka smiled and said, “Minister, that is enough now.”

There were many such tests, and Shuka stayed steady through every one.

Another Test

Then Janaka set one more test.

He gave Shuka a heavy vessel of gold.

Janaka said, “Shuka, take this vessel to my son. He is in the other palace.”

Shuka took the vessel and set off.

On the way a poor man approached and said, “Son, my child is hungry. He has eaten nothing for three days.”

Shuka looked at the man, and there was truth in his eyes.

Shuka thought to himself that the vessel was meant for the king’s son, yet if he gave it to this man, the man’s child would live, even though he would be abandoning his errand to do it. The king’s son was not hungry, and receiving this vessel would bring him no benefit at all.

Shuka gave the vessel to the man and said, “Brother, sell this, and feed your child.”

The man, astonished, said, “Son, but…”

“Take it.”

The man took the vessel, bowed, and went on his way.

Shuka never went to the king’s son. He returned straight to Janaka.

Janaka looked at him and asked, “Shuka, where is the vessel?”

“I gave it away.”

“To my son?”

“No.”

“Then to whom?”

“To a poor man.”

Janaka asked, “Shuka, this goes against my order. Why?”

Shuka said, “Your Majesty, because that mattered more.”

Janaka smiled and said, “Shuka, this test was a different kind.”

“What kind of test?”

“One to see whether you would obey my order or the dharma within you.”

“And?”

“You obeyed the dharma within you, and that is right.”

Shuka bowed his head and accepted this.

The Last Word

One day Janaka seated Shuka beside him.

Janaka asked, “Shuka, tell me one thing. What are you searching for?”

Shuka paused a few moments, then said, “Your Majesty, I have found it, yet my conviction was not yet firm.”

“And now?”

“Now it is.”

Janaka said, “Shuka, you may go now. But let me say one thing. What you have found will never come from any book, and it has not come fully even from my tests. It will arrive in its true form only when you live it in your own life.

“You will become a great rishi now, Shukadeva. People will come to you, and you will teach them. But remember always: knowledge is never told aloud. It shows itself. Whatever people gain from you, they will gain from the way you live.”

Shuka said, “Your Majesty, thank you.”

Janaka said, “No. You found it yourself. I only tested you.”

The Return

Shuka went back. Once again it was many days of travel.

On the way back he was not as he had been. Before, he was Shuka. Now he was Shukadeva.

Vyasa looked at his son. The son’s face was different now. Before, there had been only knowledge in it. Now there was conviction as well.

Vyasa asked, “Shuka, what did you find?”

Shuka said, “Father, I am that which stands behind everything. And now I am certain of it.”

Vyasa said, “Shukadeva.”

The son laughed and said, “Deva?”

“Yes. Shuka is behind you now. You are Shukadeva.”

Vyasa embraced his son and said, “Son, you are more than my child now. You are my guru as well.”

Shukadeva said, “Father, the two of us are one.”

Then Shukadeva left, to choose his own path.

He took to living in the forests.

People came to him, and he taught each one.

Many years passed. Then one day a king named Parikshit fell into deep sorrow, for a curse had come upon him that he would die within seven days.

The king said to his ministers, “I need a guru who can show me the road to liberation in seven days.”

A minister heard this and said, “Your Majesty, Shukadeva.”

“Call for him.”

Shukadeva came, and in seven days he told the king everything. This telling came to be known afterward as the Bhagavata.

Many years later, when Shukadeva had grown old, he saw Janaka one more time.

Shukadeva said, “Your Majesty, I have one thing to say. For all you did for me, thank you.”

Janaka said, “Shukadeva, what need is there for thanks? The two of us are one, two forms of a single consciousness.”

Shukadeva bowed his head and accepted this.

Only a few years after Janaka, Shukadeva too departed, yet his story remained.

For many years people went on saying, “There was a child, very small. He had knowledge, but not conviction. His father sent him to Janaka, and Janaka gave him conviction.”

Rama said, “Gurudev, the father did well to send his son to be tested.”

Vasistha said, “Rama, knowledge comes on its own, and conviction comes through testing. Knowledge without conviction is only half of it.”

Rama asked, “Gurudev, will you send me to someone as well?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, there is no need to send you anywhere. Your own life will be your test, many tests. What stays steady through each of them, that will be your conviction.”

Rama asked, “Gurudev, there is one more thing in Shuka’s story.”

“What is it?”

“His attaining knowledge at the age of six. Is that truly possible, at so young an age?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, it is very rare.”

“But it is possible?”

“Yes.”

Rama asked, “How?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, some children bring a great deal with them from their earlier lives. They have little need to learn in this life; they are only remembering.”

Rama asked, “Gurudev, do I too have earlier lives? And have I carried some of their traces into this one?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, yes, many. And there is one thing about you I have noticed.”

“What?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, even at so young an age you ask very deep questions. What do other princes your age ask about? Only about weapons, about war, about prestige. But you ask about the mind, about consciousness, about death. This comes from earlier lives.”

Rama said, “Gurudev, I will have to think on this.”

Vasistha said, “And Rama, one thing more. Shuka never told his father that he was not fully ready.”

“True.”

“He simply looked within himself, then spoke to his father, and his father sent him to Janaka.”

“True.”

Vasistha said, “Rama, learn this too. If you become aware of some lack in yourself, tell your father. A father will give you the right direction.”

Rama said, “Gurudev, my father keeps sending me to you.”

“Yes. He knows what you need.”

Rama asked again, “Gurudev, one more question. What was Shuka’s life like once he became Shukadeva?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, very plain.”

“Plain?”

“Yes. Shukadeva lived in the forests, spoke very little, and taught very little. Yet whoever listened to him was changed.”

Rama asked, “Gurudev, how so?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, because knowledge flowed from Shukadeva’s very body, and he had no need to say anything. Whoever sat near him grew lighter.”

Rama asked, “Gurudev, will I too be able to become like that one day?”

Vasistha said, “Rama, that rests with you. Your road is different from Shuka’s; yours is the road of a king. Yet something can flow from your body too. All it takes is your will.”

Rama stayed silent a while, and kept looking toward the water.

Then Rama said, “Gurudev, thank you.”

Vasistha said, “Rama, this story was your own all along.”