How a mighty Emperor lost his kingdom for a deer, and the three lives he lived to regain his soul.
Long ago, Emperor Bharata ruled the entire earth. His virtue was so legendary that the subcontinent, once called Ajanabha, was renamed 'Bharata-varsha' (India) in his honor. Yet, at the height of his power, he walked away from his golden throne to seek silence in the forest.
Deep in meditation by the river Gandaki, Bharata heard a terrified splash. A pregnant doe, fleeing a lion, leaped across the river, birthed a fawn mid-air, and died on the bank. Moved by intense pity, the hermit King saved the shivering, motherless creature.
Compassion is noble, but for Bharata, it became a silken trap. He forgot his prayers to feed the fawn. He abandoned his meditation to protect it. The deer became his child, his friend, and his entire world. The King who renounced an empire was now enslaved by a deer.
Death arrived unexpectedly. As Bharata lay dying, his mind was not fixed on the Divine, but panicking for his beloved deer. The cosmic law is strict: 'Whatever the mind dwells upon at the moment of death, that alone one becomes in the next life.'
He opened his eyes to find hooves, not hands. Reborn as a deer, he retained the memory of his past failure. Filled with regret, he left his herd and returned to the holy ashram. He lived alone, eating dry leaves, waiting for his karma to burn away.
Finally, the soul was reborn as a human, in a Brahmin family. Terrified of forming new attachments, he made a radical choice. He would hide his brilliance. He would pretend to be mad, deaf, and dumb to avoid the company of men.
People called him 'Jada'—the inert one. He spoke to no one. He let his brothers mistreat him and feed him scraps. He walked through life like a ghost, guarding his inner flame by wearing a mask of foolishness.
One night, bandits captured him to offer as a human sacrifice to Goddess Kali. Jada Bharata remained fearless. As the blade rose, the statue of Kali shattered. The Goddess herself burst forth, destroying the bandits to protect the saint who feared nothing but attachment.
Years later, King Rahugana needed a bearer for his palanquin. His guards grabbed the sturdy-looking 'fool' from the road. Jada Bharata silently lifted the heavy wooden pole, yoked like an ox alongside other servants.
While others marched fast, Bharata walked with strange care. He watched the ground intently to avoid stepping on ants. His erratic steps caused the palanquin to shake violently. The King inside was furious.
"Are you dead?" King Rahugana sneered. "You look strong, yet you cannot carry a little weight? Are you tired, old man?" The King did not know he was mocking a realized master who carried the wisdom of three lifetimes.
Jada Bharata smiled. For the first time in a lifetime, he broke his silence. "My dear King, you mock a body made of earth. 'Fat', 'lean', 'tired', and 'carrier' belong to the flesh, not to Me. The soul carries no weight."
"You think you are King and I am servant? This is just a temporary play of dust. In the forest of material existence, the Mind is the leader of the bandits. It steals your wisdom and binds you to things that die."
Stunned by the thunderbolt of wisdom, King Rahugana leaped from his palanquin and fell flat in the dust at Bharata's feet. "Who are you?" he wept. "Forgive me. Your words burn brighter than the sun."
Bharata taught that true freedom isn't just leaving the world; it is realizing you are the witness of it. Love ennobles, but attachment binds. We must live like a lotus leaf in water—touching the world, but never wet by it.
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