Table of Contents
The speaking birds
Shamika took care of the birds at home. He ensured that they
got the food that was needed for their growth. He asked his disciples to get
worms from the forests, and he would feed the baby birds those worms. He
ensured that they were hydrated. Soon, feathers started appearing on the birds.
When Shamika had found them, they were covered with down. Now the down was
getting replaced, and new shiny feathers were appearing on their bodies. They
learned how to hop and how to perch. Their eyesight was developing, and they
were now able to see the people around them. Their wings began to develop. The
birds discovered their wings and began to flutter them, starting with clumsy
bursts which gradually became stronger. They were able to turn their necks and
preen their feathers. They started jumping in the air, fluttering their wings,
guided by the sage. Soon they were able to fly around the ashrama. Gradually,
their flying time increased. Then one day they flew out, soaring in the sky.
They circled the land, saw rivers, mountains, and valleys. In the evening, they
returned. This became a regular habit. They would leave at the crack of dawn,
would fly around, and would return in the evening.
In the evening, after his worship, Shamika would talk to his
disciples and discuss spiritual topics, and the birds would listen to the
sages.
One day, Shamika had just finished a discourse. He was
getting up when he heard a human voice near him. This was a voice he had not
heard before. Shamika looked around. There was no one except his son and the
birds. He looked and saw it was the voice of the birds. These birds were
talking in human language, addressing him. Shamika was surprised. He knew
parrots could repeat words, but these birds were talking clearly. The birds
said to Shamika, "Respected Shamika, we want to ask you something. We do
not know where our father is. Our mother died while we were still in her belly.
You brought us up like your sons. You did not distinguish between us and
humans. You fed us, gave us life. Today we want to know what you expect us to
do. How should we lead our lives?"
Hearing the birds talk in human language was startling for
the sage. He started getting goosebumps. He was amazed. The birds that he had
brought up were talking. They were talking in clear human tones. He said to the
birds, "I am surprised to hear you speak. I knew you were no ordinary
birds. Else you would not have survived in the battlefield. And now you are
grown up and are talking. I fear you are cursed beings. I am curious. Is my
thought process correct? Tell me. I want to know."
The Curse of Sukrisha's Sons
Long ago, there lived a sage named Vipulasvat. He was no
ordinary sage. He was known for his wisdom and his mastery over the senses. He
had two sons: Sukrisha and Tumburu. Sukrisha was the elder one. He was serene,
steadfast, and possessed a gentle strength, while Tumburu, the younger one, was
more spirited.
From our birth, we were raised under the guiding light of
our grandfather’s example and the firm, loving hand of our father, Sukrisha.
Every morning, before sunrise, we would rise. We would
gather kindling from the forest floor. We collected flowers for worship.
Our father, Sukrisha, was a man of rare discipline. His
austerities were for inner purification. Fasting and silent meditation were how
he preferred to spend his days.
In the evenings, we would return to the hermitage, our arms
filled with the fruits of the day’s labor. We sat in silence, listening to our
father’s teachings.
One morning, as usual, we had risen before dawn and gone
into the forest to gather kindling, flowers, fruits, grass, etc., for worship.
Back at the hermitage, our father Sukrisha was in
meditation. Suddenly, the sky became dark, and a gigantic bird descended. We
were not sure how it could have flown. Its wings were ragged and broken. It was
old. Its feathers were dull. Its eyes were coppery red. It landed suddenly on
the ground and tried to hold onto the ground with its talons. Our father, his
meditation broken because of the arrival of the bird, opened his eyes and
looked at the bird.
For a time, neither spoke. The bird stood in the clearing,
struggling to remain upright. Sukrisha remained seated, watching this strange
arrival.
At last, Sukrisha spoke to the bird. "You have come
here suddenly. Who are you, and what has brought you here in this condition?
Tell me what you seek, that I may understand your purpose.”
The bird lifted its head slowly. It was struggling to speak,
its breath ragged and labored. Finally, it spoke.
The bird’s voice, strained and trembling, spoke with
urgency:
"Illustrious sage," the bird said, "I seek
your help as I am hungry, and I do not see anyone else nearby who will be able
to feed me. You are the only human I saw in this forest, and thus I approached
you. Listen to me as I tell you about my misfortune. I was gliding in the sky.
Garuda happened to fly by. His wings caused a sudden storm. I am an old bird,
and I was unable to control my balance. I got thrown from the heights. I fell
to the earth, broken and senseless. For seven days I lay there, unconscious. On
the eighth day, I awoke. I was hurt, weak, parched, and to top it all, I was
hungry. I am hurt. I am struggling to keep myself steady. I am unable to think
straight. Only you can help. Give me food. I cannot bear my hunger anymore.”
Sukrisha was someone who had complete control over sensory
input and could go on for days without food. He said to the bird, "You
have spoken about your need. You want to preserve your life. I do not turn away
one who comes in need. What kind of food do you wish to have? My sons will be
returning soon with fruit. You can have that. I may be able to get them to
gather some seeds or grain for you. Will that help you? Or is there a specific
kind of fruit or vegetable or leaf that you want to eat? Please tell me.”
The bird said, "I have no hunger for leaf or fruit or
grain. No roots or herbs will satisfy me. I do not like the taste of honey. I
enjoy eating the flesh of humans. That is what I want from you. That is the
food I have known till date, and that is what I want to consume. Serve me human
flesh.”
Sukrisha stood still. Had he heard correctly what the bird
had said? He knew of stories where people were cursed because they had been fed
human flesh, and here was a bird asking for nothing but that. He then felt sad
for the bird. He spoke to the bird, "You are no longer young. You enjoyed
yourself in your younger days. You may have feasted on what your heart desired.
Today, age has caught up. Now is the time to change your nature.”
He then stopped himself and said, "I have no right to
say all this. I did not ask you upfront what you wanted to eat. I just promised
you food. I have to now serve you human flesh. A promise once given must not be
withdrawn. That is dharma.”
Saying this, Sukrisha started calling out to us, asking us
to come quickly. We heard him and rushed back. When we reached our hut, we saw
the gigantic bird towering over our father. We quietly kept what we had
gathered from the forest inside the hut and came back to him and stood in front
of him.
Our father started saying, "You are my sons. You are
also my disciples. You have served me as a disciple serves his Guru. If you
consider me your Guru, then promise me, you will obey me and will give me what
I need from you.”
As soon as he said this, we agreed. We said we would do as
he wished.
Pointing at the bird, our father said, "This bird came
here dying of hunger and thirst. It came to me for help, and not knowing what
it wanted, I promised the bird I would give it food. He wants to consume human
flesh. As you said you will obey me and my commands, I want you to become food
for this bird. Let it feast on your flesh. Let it drink your blood. That is
what I want."
We were not ready for this. We stood there, uneasy. Then we
started trembling with fear, thinking of becoming food for this bird.
"O father," we said, shocked. "How could you
ask us to do this? We are extremely pained to hear this. While we did promise
you that we will obey your command, we are not ready to become food for this
bird. After all, everyone wants to save themselves. So why should we not save
ourselves and instead become someone's meal? I don't think any son will give up
his life if his father asked for it. If we die by becoming this bird's meal, we
will be destroying not only ourselves but also our lineage. Even if our ancestors
have done things like this, we are sorry to say, we will not follow that path.
There may be so much we are yet to achieve in this life. If we die, what
happens to all that?"
When our father heard this, he was livid with anger. We
watched him, stricken with fear. Our father had full control over his senses,
and we had never seen him like this. He reached out for his kamandalu and
poured a small stream of water into his cupped palm.
“You,” he shouted, “you refuse to honor the promise I made.
You reject the path of sacrifice. You are rejecting the bond of father and son.
You are also breaking the bond of a disciple and the teacher. Then pay the
price of disobedience.”
He raised his palm of water toward the sky, and we saw him
utter a mantra.
“Because you have refused to obey and honor my words and my
teachings, you have no right to be human. I curse you, my sons. You shall be
reborn as non-human creatures.”
Our father then addressed the bird. He was still angry. He
kept aside his kamandalu and said, "I gave you my promise, and I will
offer myself to you. Take me instead of my sons."
The bird then said, "I told you I wanted to consume
human flesh. I never said I will kill for it. I will consume the flesh of a
dead human. You are alive. How can I eat you?"
Hearing this, our father closed his eyes and drew his breath
inward. His body became still. He was about to give up his life when we felt
someone touching him. He opened his eyes. The bird had vanished. Instead of the
bird, Indra stood there. Instead of an injured, battered bird, the king of Gods
stood there. The entire hermitage was shining brilliantly.
Indra said to our father, "Sukrisha, I came here to
test you. Forgive me for all that has happened. I did not intend to hurt or
harm you in any way. You stood for truth, and I thereby bless you with divine
knowledge. I bless you with divine insight. I bless you with complete knowledge
of all scriptures which are there in this universe. You will have mastery over
nature's powers. I take your leave now.” Saying this, Indra vanished.
Though Indra had blessed our father, he was still angry at
us.
A Philosophical Journey on Attachment and Liberation
We fell to our knees, asking for forgiveness. We said,
"Forgive us. We were not prepared for this. We got scared. We got attached
to this body made of skin, bones, and flesh. We know better, and yet we failed.
We know how people get trapped by craving, but when fear seized us, we too held
on to this body, forgetting what you had taught us.”
"We have heard that our body is like a fortress. The
bones are the pillars that hold the body. The skin is the outer wall of the
fort. The tendons tie everything together. This fort has nine gates. These are
two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, the anus, and the genitals. The
body interacts with the outer world through these gates. The body may appear
strong and busy, constantly engaged in activity; it is weak without wisdom.
Wisdom acts as the defensive wall that protects against dangers, especially the
dangers of delusion. Without wisdom, the best of bodies are vulnerable. Without
wisdom, the mind is unprotected. When this happens, all sorts of desires and
attachments can invade the body. In this fort (body), there lives a king. This
king is our consciousness. This king has two ministers. They are intelligence
(buddhi) and mind (manas). These ministers (intelligence and mind) are at odds
with each other, constantly pulling each other in opposite directions.
Intelligence seeks clarity and rationality, whereas the mind often succumbs to
whims, desires, and impulses. The mind, driven by emotions, misinterprets
intelligence as an enemy, just as intelligence might perceive the mind as
unruly. The four enemies—desire (kama), anger (krodha), greed (lobha), and
confusion (moha)—always threaten the king. These enemies symbolize the
challenges and obstacles that human beings face in their journey toward
spiritual and mental peace."
“O father, when the king is alert, he seals the nine gates
and ensures that the fort is secured. His forces are well-protected, and there
is no cause for fear. The enemies prowl at the borders, but they cannot break
through. Attachment is cunning and crafty. It does not appear threatening
because it disguises itself as love or longing. But once desire arises in the
mind, it spreads outward, through the senses. The eyes are the first gate.
Vision is most easily caught by desire. The king’s gaze gets pulled outward.
Through sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch, attachment spreads and gains
control. When the gates are open, anger (krodha) follows when attachment is
blocked. Greed (lobha) arises when attachment intensifies, creating craving.
Confusion (moha) enters, clouding the mind’s judgment. In untrained minds,
these forces are not moderated. When these forces surge within the body, they
cripple the inner faculty that recalls truth, duty, and wisdom."
"Intelligence depends on the memory that speaks about
truth and duty. When that memory loses its battle to confusion and passion,
intelligence collapses. Our consciousness, the king, is no longer guided by
truth but gets tossed around by impulses, desires, and fears. When the king
falls, the scavengers (attachment, greed) rush in and start feeding on what
remains. Our attachment to life overcame our devotion to truth. We prioritized
our body over the path of duty and wisdom that you taught us. We failed to live
by the higher principles. We were greedy for life. We clung to our body."
We then pressed our foreheads to the earth and said,
"We acknowledge the justice of your curse. We recognize that we have
earned your anger. Please do not unleash the full force of your anger upon us.
Please have mercy on us. Please show us grace. Guide us. Lead us back to the
correct path."
Our father's anger was still there, but he seemed calm. He
spoke to us, realizing the gravity of what he had said to us. He said,
"What I have said cannot be undone. Shame on me. I also got attached. Ego
took over when you did not listen to me. This curse became a show which will
not benefit me in any way. I see now that over wisdom and will, it is destiny
that rules. My own actions, quick anger, and curse were driven by destiny. I
acted hastily, without careful thought, because destiny pushed events in a way
that was beyond my control. I see you now standing in front of me. You seem
truly repentant. While I will not be able to take back the curse, I promise I
will not let you fall into complete despair. You will be born in a non-human
form. I add to this that the Supreme Knowledge that Indra gave me will come to
you. This knowledge will show you the right path. Your sufferings will not last
long. I bless you; let all your doubts, confusion, hesitation, and uncertainty
disappear. You will be great souls and will attain freedom over the cycles of
birth, life, and death."
This is how we got cursed by our father. And over time, we
came into this life as birds. We had been birds in cycles of birth, and this
time we were born as birds in a battlefield. We were found by you and were
cared for by you. No one is free from destiny."
A New Life in the Vindhyas
Hearing this, Shamika said to his disciples, "See, this
is what I said earlier. These birds are not ordinary birds. They were born in a
battlefield and survived."
With Shamika’s permission, the four birds lifted into the
sky and flew toward the Vindhyas, which was full of trees and creepers. They
made their home there, in the mountains, in a secluded part. Far from everyone,
they began to live a life engaged in austerities and the study of scriptures.
Markandeya Points the Way
Markandeya concluded telling the story of the birds to
Jaimini. 'I have told you all I know about Drona and the birds. Through their
father's curse, the sons of the sage became birds, but they also gained supreme
knowledge. They now live in the Vindhya mountains. There, they spend their days
in deep reflection and study. If you want answers to your questions, go to
them. They will explain the answers, and if they please, they will also answer
more of your questions.'
Some more on this
The sons face a dilemma - obey their father or preserve
their lives.
Even spiritually trained people (the sons) can fall prey to
fear of death and attachment to the body.
No one, not even sages, are free from destiny. This doesn’t
mean fatalism, but an acknowledgment that larger forces shape life.
In some Puranas (Skanda Purana), the Vindhyas are symbolic
of ego that grows too tall and must be humbled. They can also represent inner
barriers or obstacles on the spiritual path — the mountains one must cross in
meditation, discipline, or surrender. The river Narmada near the Vindhyas
represents cleansing old bonds and entering a new phase. By going near the
Narmada, the birds are not just finding a physical home but a spiritual home,
where they can perform austerities. Mountains (steadfastness) and rivers (flow)
together symbolize the balanced spiritual life: firmness in discipline,
flexibility in the heart.
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