Abodh means naive. A naive expression always gets a pardon even if it challenged authority of an axiom. For example, a child’s opinion never warrants a rebuke - in fact it brings a smile to everyone. Abodh Prashna is a naive question. Such a question must be answered - particularly by those who claim a connection to the wisdom - Bramh.

Bramh holds the entire ¹ information; yet it may only answer the questions - it can’t frame the questions of it’s own. One who knows it all has nothing to ask ! Bramh navigates the route. It lights up the path with milestones. Still, only a trained eye may capture such clues. Such a trained eye is the “qualifying minimum” on complex path to perfecting Astrology. Maharishi knew well how to read those clues.

Bramh may suggest cryptic answers too - as long as the question is real, and innocent - Abodh Prashna. One that comes from deep with in - from the guts of the soul - Atma. Bramh speaks with Atma for they are reflections of each other - mirror images. Such answers appear as gut feelings. Matsya was naive but, after seeing Maharishi last night, she felt people were right about him. Her gut told her - he was no ordinary man ..

Abodh Prashna ..

As the boat steadied, Matsya welcomed Maharishi with a big bouquet of roses. She had picked them up on the docks for a copper coin. She still had ninety eight coppers in her tiny bag after spending “one” on the dinner last night, and she felt rich. She had the bag carefully tied to her waist. Every now and then, her left hand reached out to check the bag. Money is important and being rich is a habit - she thought! She had also thought of leaving the coins at home but decided to carry them on person. The door of her hut fell off in rains this season, and she never had enough to call on local carpenter. May be now she would get it done. Why people worked so hard for copper - she wondered!

She had debated herself on choice of flowers - there were marigolds, sunflowers and bunch more to choose from. She picked up roses because they were most expensive. She wanted to show her gratitude for the generous payout last evening. She also wanted to appease Maharishi into the question she had on her mind. Other reason that probably acted in sub-conscious - the fragrance of roses. Maybe she didn’t want her smell roam around naked. The idea of her ‘stink’ had taken deeper roots. Right from her child, she had heard crazy stories that she wasn’t born of a woman! She was repeatedly told she was cut open off a large fish, and that her smell was a living proof of her being a fish-born.

She sure was as comfortable in waters as a fish, and the story had many legs that made it quite convincing. Olds of the village said a male child was born too - with her as her twin. He was adopted by king Uparichara who believed they both were born off his sperm, swallowed by a fish ². How could this be true — she thought — for her brother never showed up for help. Nor did the king ever sent any gifts. The parable went far enough to claim that having been appointed the general of Uparichara's army, her brother ruled the vast state of Matsya, adjoining Sur Sena. She was obviously not convinced for she knew people could conjure up anything these days. But still - why not clarify with Maharishi who had ability to see the past ! Not only past, she was hoping Maharishi might get kind enough to shed some light on her future — at least how to get out of the hole she was currently dug into!

6.1

Yamuna was unusually calm that morning — reflecting the stillness of churn in Maharishi's mind. Almost fifteen minutes into the ride, she stole a glance to find him looking at a dry palm leaf. As if there were a treasure map hidden on the leaf. He was also smelling roses she gave him, firmly held in his other hand.

He likes roses ! — she thought to herself. Pleased with her choice, she mustered the courage to initiate conversation. The moment she got the attention, she quickly sought the permission for a question. Maharishi gladly agreed to listen to her. It was a while he had spoken to a commoner in an ‘unmoderated’ setting.

She started her story, and went on and on, not knowing where to stop. As if, in years, for the first time, she got someone to look at her tiny-box. Getting true attention of another human in itself is a boon, and in this case she got the calm focus of a Maharishi. She didn’t even know the words that came off her mouth. Her perspective, shaded in the pain of utter rejection, was evocative.

All this time, Maharishi quietly listening to her and smelling the roses — rather surprised at the choice and effortless delivery of words. Her description of the vast state her ‘supposed’ father and brother inherited. And her description of the large fish, she was born of. Maharishi realized it wasn’t just the announcement she made last evening, that sounded like a Naad Yogi: she had probably recited her own story to herself countless times. Her local accent, as worthy as the Sanskrit ³ rendering of a professional reciter. More importantly, she believed in what she said - like a child. After a long circular narrative, she boiled down to contesting the existence of ‘One God’, for the God couldn’t be so merciless. Why did he put all the miseries in her lap while her father and brother were enjoying royalty.

Her naive question rubbed Maharishi at painful memories of his own past. He recalled his time when he lost the way in narratives of his childhood. Growing up in his grand father’s Ashrama, though he had access to the most pragmatic vantage, yet he wasn’t immune to hate. To him, his grand father appeared calm though he lost hundred sons that unruly morning, but anger had bottled up in his youth. Partly because of the chatter around him, but also because the killers of his father still stayed beyond justice, and still enjoyed same old misdeeds. He realized later that he subconsciously shifted the blame from one bad actor to an entire race of Rakshsas. He ‘now’ understood the power of stories on a child’s mind! - Sanskaras.

6.2

While Matsya was talking, Maharishi continued to drift into his past … In the early days, the hate overpowered him. So much so that he left the Ashrama to seek justice for the “still unsettled” case. Primary heart burn being Kalmaspada was still at large. No one was convicted for the heinous crime. On the face of it, his fight was against all those who didn’t believe in Vaidik way of life, but his ideology was a convenient facade to revenge his own loss. And he used all the tools he had — even the power of his knowledge.

The hyperbole is, he didn’t even pick up a weapon. It says he lit up a holy fire of Yazna and made the monsters fly into it. As if he invoked a fire-trap - a manifestation of his sacrifices. Rakshsas with in a certain distance of the “just” fire, burnt one by one as the crowds saw them turning into ashes — unaware that with every immolation, Maharishi burnt a part of his own self. When he got off the altar, he limped on one leg — permanently amputated!

Such descriptions apart, most probably he joined forces with the local leaders to seek his revenge. He obviously used his “clue hunting” to trap the enemies. After banishing most of the Rakshsas from the adjoining areas, he along with leader of this movement — Ugrasen — named the area Sur Sena — a neighborhood watch of good people. Maharishi helped Ugrasen get the title of the king of this new formed state. Ugrasen was a rational king. He made Mathura his capital and brought peace to the long civil unrest that kick started that fateful morning. The first cold war between those who believed in a systemic change versus those who wanted to continue with status quo — the ancient rules of the jungle.

Finally people felt safe again and order was restored. Mathura became a happening town and Maharishi's abode right at the center, by the river Yamuna, retained back its past glory. But not for long! Rakshsas (along with Asuras) kept plodding for no one is truly defeated in the physical wars. Their hopes were on Kansa - the son and heir of Ugrasen who didn’t cheer his father’s austerity. He wanted to indulge for he believed you live only once. He was a perfect foothold for Asuras. We will get to his story in a bit.

As Maharishi grew older, he realized the evil was not race specific. There were good and bad actors on both sides of the aisle. And evil, in itself, was just a different vantage point. He was able to see both sides of the coin now. Both seemed right at the same time.

The compelling argument on the side of Rakshsas was simple — they asked if “One God” was full of love, why is there death and misery in the world? God can’t be merciless. Why doesn’t God let everyone live like him — always healthy and beautiful. Matsya's naive question opened the door of empathy in Maharishi's heart. He found her struggling the similar state that he himself resolved after much loss and violence.

Maharishi also thought what if the Rakshsas he banished had gotten similar bad deal at the hands of fate. That couldn’t be construed as their mistake for breeding contempt of God. If a young girl , felt this way, why wouldn’t a mature Asura who had probably seen more hardships? But no one had ever put forth such unpretentious argument with a child like naivety. Her unintentional deduction forced the Yogi to engage in a conversation — those who claim a connection with Bramh must answer the naive question ! Maharishi was himself surprised finding himself engaging with a woman half his age - an anomaly because he rarely spoke. Even the kings had to wait to hear his sermons. He rarely blessed anyone. He never performed rites for money or favors. Nor did he indulge in religious debates — he was a silent seeker lost in himself.

6.3

Her innocent question and the pain in her eyes forced Maharishi to look at her, understand her life, and gaze into her future. Being a Trikal Darshi astrologer — someone who could see the past, present and future, he saw the purpose of her being. She was the one who could mother Dwaipayana. Purified by the pain of her sufferings, her intelligence was pious. Maharishi looked at the morning sky and saw a glitter of hope in the rays of rising sun. He marveled at the ways of nature for having brought him in contact with Matsya . He wondered how his zeal to scribe — his deep desire that he inherited from his grandfather, coexisted with the means to accomplish , right by his home ! Was it a sign ? — a nudge of destiny ! And then he looked at the palm leaf in his hand — he could now see a treasure map on the leaf, thus far hidden to a common eye.

When he was sure Matsya had no more to say, he shared his empathy with a cautious smile — And how did Uparichara's sperm reached a fish? — he somehow controlled his laughter!

Matsya knew such a question would be obvious if she shared her story. And she understood Maharishi didn’t believe any of it. Yet to complete the point, she added - well they say, Uparichara was newly wed, and he loved his wife (Girika), head over his heels. On the eve of their much waited wedding, a saint asked him for meat of a deer as part of wedding celebrations. And that the deer must be hunted by the host himself. King, didn’t want to dishonor the saint on his wedding night. So he took on to near by jungle. While on the hunt, he couldn’t stop thinking about his new wife, waiting for him. Thinking about her, his seed fell, while a curious hawk watched him go through intense struggle — to hold up. The hawk graciously offered the king that he could carry the semen to his wife. And king thankfully agreed.

As the hawk flew, with king’s semen in it’s beak, another one attacked him assuming he had a piece of meat in his mouth. When it comes to kings, friends and foes are always around ! In their fight, the precious seed fell in the river below, where a fish swallowed it, as if she was already waiting for the prize! Even the fish was a cursed angel ..

Before she went further, with her amazing elucidation, Maharishi couldn’t hold his laughter. His eyes almost watered. Once he got his composure back, he pulled one rose from the bouquet. Handing it back to her, he asked - Matsya do you see the thrones below this beautiful flower? Seeing her nod affirmatively, he continued — think what could have happened to a lone girl in this place full of hungry hawks! Your smell is your protector just like these thrones are to the flower. And your beauty is your intelligence. Don’t ever waste your intelligence in what people talk. People remember only sensational stories. Those stories do go in the history because they are easier said and easier remembered, but every one has their own truth to seek! Even truth seekers must know their version of truth is not universal.

He thought for a while, watching Matsya react to his laughter. She was unsure if Mahrishi actually found it funny. Maharishi realized he should not have laughed. He added a new perspective to ease the situation but one that came from the depth of his wisdom — If you think about it, O’ fish-born, people are not entirely wrong. In a way what people are telling you is true because your smell is protecting you like a mother. Just like a mother, it surrounds you always. And as far as your father is concerned, you are sure born off a noble man of highest order — your intelligence is a living proof. And people know that even if they don’t readily express it to you.

He paused for a moment to let Matsya grasp what he said. And then he added — But the real question is: would you want me to dwell on your past or look into your future?

The gravity of his voice such that the words brought tears to Matsya's eyes — why can’t I be like others O’ Maharishi? Beautiful and fragrant? What worth this protected intelligence of, if I must live alone all my life? Maharishi heard the voice of truth, pain, and of the deepest of desires, as she bowed and touched Maharishi's feet. No argument could bring peace to Matsya. She must live to be beautiful and fragrant, and she must enjoy all the pleasures thus far devoid off her.

Maharishi blessed her with his right hand — Your life has a good reason Matsya. Gods have graced you with hardships to enable objectivity in you, for they want to have you serve as a host to something bigger. He paused for a moment to look deeper into her eyes for the words he was about to say, must be fulfilled — I shall come back to you, to seek your help, at appropriate time. Stay put…

Matsyagandha couldn’t believe her ears! She forgot to notice that Maharishi didn’t answer her questions. Instead, he offered her hope. Maybe he was sharing the high tide of his own resolve, strengthened at this unscheduled rendezvous.

Maharishi disembarked, careful to keep his balance - his limp didn’t help. Holding the roses and palm leaf in one hand, he latched on to the hull for support. As his hand caught the hull, his eyes caught a small wooden piece with stamp of Kuru kingdom. He was surprised to see a king’s stamp lying in the bucket. He guessed the bucket was for dropping fares but why someone dropped king’s stamp! Curious he asked Matsya.

Matsya picked up the stamp - you may take it, it has no use to me. A commuter from the far side - she waived towards the Kuru Kingdom side of Yamuna - said I could get a copper coin for it from the king’s palace in Hastinapur - the capital. I guess I will never go there in this life!

Maharishi was surprised. He took a closer look at the stamp. It was an original. Why would the king trade his seal for a copper! - none of my business - he thought to himself. Out loud he spoke - You should keep it because you earned it. And who knows you might end up in Hastinapur. Destiny !

He handed the seal back, but he did take a question with him as he got off the boat and started walking to the Ashrama…

If God is full of mercy, why is there misery in the world !

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