Dhruva loka

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The Story of Dhruva, A myth of the Pole star

(from Vishnu Purana, source:

http://www.vidyasoft.com/interest/stories/dhruva.html)

 

THE poetry of the world is full of the similes devised by poets to suggest the

midnight sky. The great multitude of the stars shining and quivering, as it

were, against the darkness, have been likened to many things -- to a swarm of

golden bees, to golden apples on a tree, to a golden snow-storm in the sky, to

fire- flies at evening, holes in a tent-roof, distant lamps moving in the

darkness, jewels on a blue banner, and so on, and so forth. But only in India,

so far as I know, have they ever been compared to white ants, building up a vast

blue ant-hill!

 

For the fact that seems most deeply to have impressed the Hindu mind, was not

the appearance of the starry dome, so much as the perfect steadiness in it, of

the Polar Star. Wonderful star! the only point in all the heavens that stayed

unmoved, while round it came and went the busy worlds. And this stillness

moreover must have characterized it from the very beginning of things. It was

never for the Pole Star to learn its quietude. It came by no degrees to it

proper place. Rather has it been faithful and at rest since the very birth of

time. Surely in all the world of men there could be nothing like this,

unswerving, unerring from beginning to end, the witness of movement, itself

immutable. Unless indeed we might imagine that some child in his heart had found

the Goal, and remained thenceforth, silent, absorbed and stir less, from

eternity to eternity, through all the ages of man.

 

In India, the mystic land of the lotus, was born the child Dhruva. His father

was a king, and his mother, Suniti, the chief of all the queens. Yet even on a

lot so fortunate as this, may fall the dark shadow of disaster. For long before

the birth of Dhruva, the son of one of the younger queens had been promised the

throne, and the coming of the new child would undo this claim, since the son of

the principal queen was undoubtedly the King's true heir. It is easy, therefore,

to understand the anger and fear of the lesser wife at the child's birth. She

was jealous of the new baby, on behalf of her own son, and did not fail to show

her feeling in many ways; till at last the King, in very anxiety for their

safety, ordered his wife and little one to be exiled from the court, and sent

them to live in a simple cottage, on the distant edge of a great forest.

 

 

It was a humble cottage enough, yet charming in its own way. It was built of

grey mud, and thatched with brown palm-leaves. In front, there was a deep

verandah covered by the wide leaves; and here even a queen could rest, and

receive her village-friends, without a screen, for facing it, instead of the

city, was the impenetrable forest, whence at nightfall could be heard the

roaring of wild beasts. More and more, as time went on, did thc occasional

visits of holy men, on their way through the forest to distant shrines, become

the great events of their wood side life. For the hush of the green woods

brought with it healing, and the thought of God. And a great peace entered

gradually into the heart of Suniti, the Queen. Thus, under her calm influence,

the child Dhruva would linger, towards sunset, near the lotus-ponds, dreaming of

the beauty of the great flowers that rocked to and fro with every movement of

the waters, yielding but untouched. They came by

degrees to mean for him all holiness, all tenderness, all purity, these large

pink and white lotuses, lying against their wide green leaves, as if the gods

had passed that way across the waters, and left them blossoming in their

footsteps. Or he would lie awake at night, and listen to the sobbing of the

palm-leaves, rustling and swaying in the darkness, far above him, wondering,

wondering, what was the story they were telling. Or he would stand quietly,

watching the peasants in the rice-fields that stretched to the horizon behind

them, sowing the seed, and, when the rains lay deep on the earth, transplanting

the crops.

So the years passed, and the brooding silence of nature was all about them. Only

in the sad heart of Suniti, all the joy of life was centred in her son. At last,

when Dhruva was seven years old, he began to ask about his father. " Could I not

go to see him, " Mataji, honoured mother? " he said one day.

 

" Why, yes, my child! " said the poor Queen, full of startled pleasure at the

thought, yet so accustomed to sorrow, that she trembled at any change in the

even tenor of their life, lest it should end by robbing her of the one thing

that was still hers " Oh yes, thou shalt go, little one, tomorrow! "

 

And so, the next day, Dhruva set out, in the care of a guard, to seek his

father, and tell him that he was his son. Beautiful was the road by which they

went. High over their heads spread the boughs of the shady trees, and on each

side lay the wide fields. Every now and then they would pass a great pond, with

its handsome bathing-steps on one side, crowned by an arch, and near by would

see the children of the village playing. For each village had its own

bathing-pond and its own temple. And in the streets, as they passed through

them, it being still early in the morning they would see the jeweler working

over his little stove, the potter turning his wheel, and the cowherds taking the

cows to pasture in the distant meadows. Sometimes the child walked, and

sometimes he was carried. At last they arrived at the royal gates, and Dhruva

went in, past the sentinels, and entered the palace itself. On and on he went,

till he reached the hall of audience, then he

came to the steps of the throne, and there, at last, he saw the King himself.

At this point, he ran to his father's arms.

 

The King was overcome with joy. Not one day had gone by, of all those seven

years, without his longing for his wife and son, and here was suddenly the

little one himself, come of his own accord, full of love and trust. He felt as

if he could never caress him enough, or distinguish him enough, to make up for

those long years of neglect.

 

At this very moment, however, Dhruva's step-mother entered the hall. If only

this lady had been the Queen, her son would have had the right to be King some

day, and she would not have needed to claim the succession for him. But as it

was, she could never forget that her rival Suniti was the real Queen and that

Dhruva, therefore, was the rightful heir. And her whole heart was full of

jealousy. Now, therefore, her anger knew no bounds. She taunted her husband with

the memory of his early promise, and spoke words so wicked about the child on

his knee, that in haste he put him down, and turned to plead with her, as if

afraid that her evil prayers might come to pass.

 

Bt even a child knows that a strong man or woman is the greatest thing in the

whole world, and when his father put him away, Dhruva felt as if his heart had

broken within him, at finding him weak Silently, all unnoticed, he touched his

feet, and kissed the steps of the throne before him. Then he turned, beckoned to

his guard, and went.

 

It seemed a long way home. But at last they reached the door-way, where the

Queen had watched hour after hour, not able to rest, in her terrible fear that

something might have happened to her boy. The servant disappeared, and the child

lifted the long lath-curtain, and bounded into her presence. Ah, how glad she

was to see him! Here, at least, he was at home.

 

Then they went out into the verandah together, and Dhruva began to eat the

fruits and cakes that were laid in readiness. While he ate, his graceful young

mother watched him anxiously. Yes, it was as she had feared it might be. There

was a difference. Something sad had come into the little face, as if in that one

short day it had grown much older. And Suniti sighed, for she knew that all the

happy years of his childhood were behind them. He would never be her baby any

more.

 

But when he had finished his meal -- for to speak while eating would have been

grave disrespect! -- Dhruva told her exactly what had happened, and the two sat

sad and silent for a while. Then he asked a strange question: " Mother! is there

any one in the world who is stronger than my father? "

" Oh yes, my child! " she answered, thinking of the Lord Vishnu, and half shocked

at Dhruva's ignorance, " Oh yes, my child, the Lotus-Eyed! " The solemn little

face grew all eagerness. " And mother, where dwells He? " he asked. " Oh, far far

away! " she answered vaguely, and then, seeing that she must give a reply, " Deep

in the heart of the forest, where the tiger lives, and the bear, there dwells

the Lotus-Eyed, my son! "

Dhruva said little more. A voice seemed to be sounding in his heart. It was so

loud that sometimes he wondered if his mother did not hear it. From far far away

in the depths of the forest it called, " Come to me! Come to me! " and he knew

that it was the voice of the Lotus-Eyed, in whom was all strength. About

midnight, he could bear it no longer. He rose up from his little bed, and stood

over his sleeping mother for a moment. She did not wake. " O Lotus-Eyed, I leave

my mother to Thee! " he said in his heart. Then he stole quietly out, and stood

on the verandah, looking at thc forest. It was bright moonlight, and the trees

cast long black shadows. He had never been allowed to go even a little way into

the forest alone, and now he was going down to its very heart. But it must be

right, for he could hear the voice calling, " Come to me! " louder than ever. " O

Lotus-Eyed, I give myself to Thee! " he said, and stepped off the verandah, and

over the grass into the

forest.

 

He was barefooted, but the thorns were nothing. He had been weary, but that was

all forgotten. On and on without resting, he went, seeking the Lotus-Eyed.

 

At last he reached the heart of the forest. Then came one with great fiery eyes,

and hot breath and swinging tail. Dhruva did not know who it was. He went up to

him eagerly. " Are you the Lotus-Eyed? " he asked. And the tiger slunk away

ashamed. Next came something with heavy footsteps and deep dark fur. " Are you

the Lotus-Eyed? " asked Dhruva. And the bear, too, slunk away ashamed. Still the

child heard the voice of the Lotus-Eyed in his heart, saying, " Come! Come! " And

he waited. All at once, out of the darkness of the forest there appeared before

him a holy man, whose name was Narada, and he laid his hands on his head, saying

" Little one, you seek the Lotus-Eyed! Let me teach you the way by which you

shall find Him, and where! "

 

And then he showed him how to sit down on the earth, without moving, and to say

over and over again, " Hail, Blessed One, Lord of the Worlds! Hail! And he said

that if his whole thought could fasten without wavering, in perfect steadiness,

on the words he spoke, he would find the Lotus-Eyed, without a doubt.

The boy sank down on the ground, as he was told, and began to repeat the sacred

text. Like a rock he sat there, moving not a muscle. Even when the white ants

came to build their ant-hill, and raised it up around him, he never stirred. For

deep in his own heart Dhruva had found the Lotus-Eyed, and he had come to rest

for ever.

 

So the Pole Star was given him for his home, and is called to this day

Dhruva-Loka.

But some say that away beyond it is another, larger and just as true, and that

there Dhruva's mother, Suniti, was placed, that her child might be always at her

feet, and joy be hers, throughout the countess ages of those stars.

 

 

---

Gurorangripadme ManaScenna Lagnam tata: kim! tata: kim! tata: kim! tata: kim!?

Sarva Kartha, Sarva Dhartha, Sarva Hartha, Mangalam!

Satchidananda, Satchidananda, Satchidananda Mangalam!

Tasmai Sri Guru-murthaye Nama Idam Sri Dakshinamurtaye!