Apt Punishment
Once
upon a time there was an illiterate, uneducated king. After all, across the
entire world, how many Kings are like
Bhoja (a contemporary of Kalidasa)? (Legend has it that just looking at
King Bhoja, even an ordinary weaver was able to spin poetry on the spur of the
moment. Not entirely surprising given the fact that King Bhoja was an
embodiment of Devi Saraswati.) As it happens with most rulers, the king was
ignorant, too arrogant to recognize his own ignorance. Most of his advisers were
also stupid, no wonder there. The innocent people bore the brunt of such an
unwise ruler. They, like all captive subjects toiled their lives to pay high
taxes. Among the court advisers, there was one pseudo-scholar. How it came to
be, no one knew exactly, but he was known to all as “Kata-Kata Sastri[1]”.
The king liked him very much and he used to consider him as the best scholar in
the whole of India.
Being
ignorant of books, languages, or science is no sin, per se. But excessive
vanity or jealousy can lead to great troubles. In those times, most kings used
to entertain open court proceedings. They would invite scholars from
neighboring kingdoms for open scholarly competitions. Such intellectual
deliberations can range from logic, philosophy, linguistics, astronomy, to
literature. In an ideal time, there were learned kings like Krishnadevaraya,
himself a scholar of four languages. Thus, the host king used to be very
impartial in judging each scholar’s arguments. The winning scholar was
felicitated with money, jewels, titles, gold, and dresses.
Following
such regal traditions, our king also entertained many foreign scholars in his
court. Invariably, all the visiting scholars were treated badly by the
arrogant Katakata Sastri. Often
they would leave the court room totally dejected, in utter bewilderment, with
painful tears in eyes. Alas, what is the use of showing intellectual talents in
front of an illiterate audience? As they say, casting pearls before swine! The
king enjoyed these intellectual charades because his trustworthy courtier
feigned to win, rather put up a show of winning, yea winning all the time,
winning against all opponents. If the topic was literature, the court pundit
would eloquently concoct some gibberish poetry sans any meaning, but still with
high sounding rhymes and meter.
Once
a very learned scholar entered the court. He was well versed in scriptures,
philosophy, languages, and literature.
A recipient of many titles and awards. People called him “Sankara Sastri
Siddhanti”. The visiting Sankara Sastri requested the king for a scholarly
debate with his courtiers. Katakata Sastri too was itching for a debate for
quite some time. So, the whole court was anxious to see one more drama of
intellectual fight and high-flown arguments. In any fight, uncertainty (of
outcome) adds to the tension.
The
beginning was very ordinary. Beguilingly innocent like the calm sky before a
major (snow)storm. The guest scholar started with a proposition, a declaratory
statement: “adhato, brahma jijnasa[2]” [అధాతో బ్రహ్మ జిజ్ఞాస (1.1.1)]. In a very simple language, the statement means: After certain preparatory
actions (sadhana), ultimately one
must make genuine effort to enquire about Brahman. In certain Indian cities
(ex: Varanasi), debates and discussions used to follow well established
protocols. They still do in some Buddhist monasteries too. There is always an
impartial judge, overseeing the proceedings. Ample time is given to each
participant to present a valid rebuttal, explanation, and counter arguments.
Most important is one simple requirement: After listening to the visiting
scholar’s statement (proposition), the local scholar was required first to
restate and elaborate the “opening statement”. Such a requirement, though it
sounds simple, frivolous was mandatory. It was instituted to avoid any
accidental misunderstanding. The whole proceeding was guided to follow strict
logic. So, in this present situation, ideally Kata Kata Sastri was supposed to
first clarify the meaning behind the opening statement: “Let there be
(henceforth) an enquiry about Brahman”. But no, our court pundit acted more
like a jester. He started rattling of like, “stick jijnasa, drum enquiry,
tumbler enquiry, brick enquiry, head enquiry, wall enquiry, with mix of Telugu
and Sanskrit words. And on and on, it went on without any comma or period.
Kata-Kata Sastri took almost thirty minutes. There was no hesitation in his
vocals; but there was no meaning to his utter stupid statements. The entire
court was spell bound. And of course the idiotic king was swelling with pride
about his courtier and his apparent brilliance. Meanwhile, Nilakantha was
totally surprised; he calmly looked at the whole court and the entire affair
with total surprise. There was nothing he could do in such a terrible unjust
environment. The buffoon king with his attendant nincompoops were all one side,
he with whatever erudition on the other side. There was no bridge that could
cover the vast span of knowledge, nay, say that again, the vast expanse of
ignorance. Yet he remained calm and watched the entire spectacle with patience.
Soon,
the king and his sycophants were filled with happiness; their pundit like
before won. They all waited for a victory parade. The king came down and
presented Kata Kata Sastri a coral necklace, a gold chain, and a bag of
sovereigns. There were hilarious shouts, complimentary hails, and the whole
court reverberated with slogans: “Victory to our Kata Kata Sastri and victory
to our beloved king”. Everyone except the king was getting ready for procession
through the main roads – all to celebrate the ill-gotten victory. Then, without
any hint, suddenly, the king witnessed a strange thing. There in front of him,
the visitor went to meet the pseudo-pundit. Unexpectedly, Nilakantha bent and
fell at Sastri’s feet showing utmost reverence. “Please, please Sir, just one and only one”. Saying the
visitor plucked a tiny hair from Sastri’s right foot. And then he tied the
little hair strand in his upper garment (anga-vastram). And with that simple
act, the visitor started to leave. “Not, yet,” uttering those words, the king
beckoned Nilakantha.
“What did you collect? What are you taking with you?”
“Nothing Sire, just a hair. See Sir, I travel the entire
country alone. Through hills, valleys, dense forests. Often I encounter wicked
spirits, snakes, violent tigers, wicked dacoits, and many mean people. I have no protection. Your resident
scholar brings victory and auspiciousness to everyone around. So, I just took
one small hair from his right foot. This little sacred keratin fiber will
protect from any and every evil.”
“Is it so,” the king thundered. Suddenly a lightning idea
struck him. He thought aloud, “Minister, why are we wasting our valuable wealth
on police and city security? Let us instead give one hair to each household. It
will protect them from every evil, calamity, thievery, and misfortune. The
whole country will be safe and prosperous in no time.”
Immediately the king called all his guards and ordered them
to collect all hairs of Kata Kata Sastri. Woe befell on the poor Kata Kata
Sastri.
(Translator's Note: This story was originally in Telugu, it was a prose selection for us in grade (4th or 5th) school. I forgot about the author’s name. Nevertheless, I still want to convey my gratitude for writing such an excellent short story. The original Telugu short story has a profound meaning, a subtle moral lesson, and unique sound embedded in its paragraphs. My understanding of it improved gradually with years. On a first reading, many would invariably get it wrong. But I won’t spoil the fun of it – let the reader find out its true essence, the real fragrance. I would certainly rank this short story on par with any number of first rate short stories, in any language English, French, or Japanese.)
Copyright 2015 by the author
[1] The reader
should not to jump to conclusions about the name or its significance. I mean no
disrespect to any Sastri, Varma, or Sarma, etc. No implied or explicit malice
is meant. This is the name I remember from the original Telugu story, read
several decades back.
[2] From Brahma
Sutras. For an introduction see the Telugu work by Swami
Medhanandapuri at Bhakti website.
