Eleventh Skandha

The Eleventh Skandha begins with a quiet, autumnal gravity, for it is here that the Bhagavata Purana begins gradually preparing its listener for Krishna's departure from the visible, worldly realm.

Once, some great sages — Vishvamitra, Narada, Kanva, Vamadeva, and others — came to Dvaraka. Some insolent, arrogant young Yadava princes, in a spirit of mischief, dressed Krishna's son Samba in the guise of a pregnant woman, and mockingly asked the visiting sages whether "she" would give birth to a son or a daughter.

The sages, clearly recognizing behind this mockery the deep pride that had, after decades of immense prosperity and power, entered even Krishna's own Yadu dynasty, grew exceedingly enraged. They cursed that Samba would in truth give birth not to a child but to a terrible iron club (a pestle), and that this very club would in due course become the instrument of the complete, destructive annihilation of the entire Yadu dynasty — thus began that cycle of the curse which is the central, grave story of this Skandha.

Before this terrible curse fully bears its fruit, the flow of the story pauses, where the celestial sage Narada relates to King Nimi (also described in another story in the Bhagavata) one of its most systematic, profound philosophical teachings — the discourse of the Nine Yogeshvaras (Navayogendras).

These nine Yogeshvaras — Kavi, Hari, Antariksha, Prabuddha, Pippalayana, Avirhotra, Drumila, Chamasa, and Karabhajana — were originally the sons of Lord Rishabhadeva himself, supreme perfected, self-realized great souls from birth, each of whom explains in depth a different, particular facet of devotion and its supremacy over both action and knowledge.

This philosophical center continues to unfold, each Yogeshvara in turn illuminating a particular dimension of devotion — one stressing the Lord's all-pervasiveness, another the simplicity of devotion, another the nature of worldly delusion — establishing again and again that devotion to the Lord alone leads to that completeness toward which every other path, whether knowledge or action, knowingly or unknowingly, is ultimately traveling.

King Nimi, exceedingly satisfied and filled with knowledge by the teachings of these nine Yogeshvaras, bows to them with profound reverence, and Narada presented this entire discourse as a fitting, profound background for Krishna's coming teachings.

In this very context, one of the Yogeshvaras relates an exceedingly instructive story of a brahmin of the city of Avanti, who had once been of an exceedingly miserly, greedy nature, harsh and ungenerous even toward his own family.

When neighbors and thieves, taking advantage of his miserliness and unpopularity, gradually plundered his entire accumulated wealth, that brahmin, having lost all his material riches, arrived at a state of profound self-examination.

In this state he recognized the profound truth that true, lasting wealth had never actually lain in his outward possessions, but resides in the soul's inner peace and devotion to the Lord; with this realization he became fully joyful and free even in his new poverty — this teaching offers profound comfort and guidance also to all who suffer ordinary worldly hardships.

This chapter describes an exceedingly enlightening dialogue between Narada and Vasudeva, in which Narada gave Vasudeva a detailed discussion of the appropriate, effective religious means for humanity in the various ages — Satya Yuga, Treta, Dvapara, and Kali Yuga.

He explained that in Satya Yuga, deep meditation and austerity were the primary means of liberation, since the people of that age were long-lived, strong, and naturally virtuous; in Treta Yuga, extensive sacrifices and rituals became the primary means; in Dvapara, magnificent temple-building and formal worship of the gods.

But in the coming Kali Yuga, when human strength, intelligence, lifespan, and morality would progressively decline, Narada made clear that only one means would remain the simplest, most accessible, and most effective: the collective, loud chanting of the Lord's sacred names, which, without any complex ritual or special qualification, can instantly purify and liberate any person, however fallen or incapable they may be.

During this time, all the gods, led by Brahma, humbly appeared before Krishna in Dvaraka, and, with the utmost reverence, reminded him that his earthly avatar-purpose — reducing the tyrannical burden of the earth, destroying Kansa and countless other wicked kings, and restoring dharma — had now been fully, successfully accomplished.

They also humbly submitted that the time had now come for the Lord to return once again to his eternal, divine abode, and that the terrible curse now earned by the Yadu dynasty's own members, soon to bear its fruit, would serve as a fitting, natural instrument for this departure; Krishna accepted the gods' prayer peacefully and gravely.

Krishna, deeply sensing that his earthly departure was now exceedingly near, and knowing too that this separation would otherwise be unbearable for his most beloved, intimate friend and minister Uddhava, began giving him an extensive, exceedingly profound final teaching, known as the "Uddhava-gita," so that Uddhava could become fully spiritually strong and self-sufficient.

When Uddhava humbly prayed to accompany Krishna to his abode, Krishna instead advised him to take up renunciation and wander through the world in a spirit of detachment, and, in this very context, began describing a famous ancient dialogue between a brahmin avadhuta and King Yadu.

This avadhuta told King Yadu that he had had twenty-four gurus — the earth, air, sky, water, fire, the moon, the sun, a pigeon, a python, the ocean, a moth, a bee, an elephant, a honey-gatherer, a deer, a fish, and the courtesan Pingala, among many other ordinary creatures and things — each of which, without any formal teaching, simply through observation of its own nature, taught him a different, profound spiritual lesson.

Among these twenty-four gurus, one particularly moving story is that of the courtesan Pingala, who, one night, waiting for a wealthy, attractive lover, adorned herself with the utmost excitement and hope, and stood at her door for hours awaiting him.

The night wore on, the lover did not come, and Pingala's hope gradually turned into despair and profound exhaustion. At last, in this very moment of deep despair, she had an extraordinary spiritual realization: she recognized that throughout her life she had wandered in the hope of fulfilling outward, fleeting desires, and that this very hope had been the root cause of all her suffering.

She realized that true peace lies not in the fulfillment of outward desires, but in complete freedom from desire itself, and with this profound, liberating realization, she fell into a complete, untroubled sleep — this story shows that the deepest spiritual knowledge can sometimes reveal itself even through the most unexpected circumstances and the most ordinary persons.

The avadhuta went on to tell the story of the osprey, which was continually pursued by other larger, more powerful birds while carrying a piece of meat, but the moment it dropped that piece of meat, it immediately experienced peace and freedom — showing that attachment alone is the root of all suffering, renunciation alone the root of peace.

He also told the story of a young girl whose many bangles, worn on her wrist while she pounded rice in a crowded house, clashed together and produced a loud, harsh noise; embarrassed, she removed all the bangles one by one, keeping only a single one on each hand, and the noise instantly ceased — this symbolizes the profound teaching that where many gather, dispute and noise are inevitable, while peace naturally dwells in solitude.

The avadhuta continued describing the profound teachings received from many other creatures in the same way — the snake (which wanders alone and without a home), the spider (which weaves its web from its own secretion and then draws it back in, a symbol of creation and destruction), and the wasp (which captures an insect and, through fear, compels it to think continually of nothing but the wasp itself, until that insect itself becomes a wasp — showing that continuous, single-pointed contemplation is itself the instrument of transformation).

Having completed this story of the avadhuta, Krishna himself gave Uddhava a detailed, systematic discourse on Sankhya philosophy and the profound principle of action, once again clearly re-establishing the fundamental, eternal distinction between the soul (purusha) and material nature.

He explained that the soul is by nature pure, eternal, and unchanging, while material nature and the body, mind, and senses arising from it are continually changing and mortal, and that all human suffering arises from this very fundamental delusion of identifying oneself with material nature (body and mind).

He also made clear that the bondage of actions arises not from the performance of action itself, but from attachment to the fruit of action, and that a person who performs all his actions in a desireless spirit, offering them to the Lord, remains entirely free of their bondage even while performing them.

Krishna went on to give an exceedingly detailed, systematic discourse on the three fundamental gunas of material nature — sattva (purity, knowledge), rajas (activity, desire), and tamas (inertia, ignorance) — explaining how these three gunas entirely pervade every aspect of material nature, thought, food, action, and even the manner of worship.

He described the particular behavior, disposition, and results arising from each guna: a sattvic person is inclined toward knowledge and peace, a rajasic person toward power and enjoyment, a tamasic person toward laziness and ignorance.

At last, Krishna emphasized that a true seeker, instead of holding onto any one of these three gunas, should continually advance toward that state entirely beyond all of them — pure, guna-transcending devotion — in which the soul, unaffected by any guna of material nature, remains fixed only in love for the Lord.

Krishna explained to Uddhava in exceedingly clear, firm words that the paths of knowledge (which seeks self-realization through intellectual discernment) and yoga (which seeks the same goal through physical-mental discipline), however effective and respected they may be, are far more difficult, prolonged, and uncertain than devotion, and carry a greater possibility of failure as well.

Devotion, in complete contrast, is immediately and directly fruitful for any sincere, faithful-hearted seeker, whatever their social position, caste, education, or prior qualification may be; even the most uneducated, most ordinary person, if their heart is filled with sincere devotion, can attain the Lord even more quickly than the man of knowledge or the yogi, for in devotion the Lord himself becomes the seeker's helper and guide.

Krishna told Uddhava an exceedingly profound, philosophical story of the Hamsa (swan) incarnation, in which, once, the Lord himself assumed the wondrous form of a radiant white swan, and, appearing before the four mind-born sons of Brahma — Sanaka, Sanandana, Sanatana, and Sanatkumara — gave them an extraordinary teaching on the deepest, subtlest relationship between the soul and the Supreme Soul.

In this teaching, the Lord in the form of the swan revealed the deepest, highest teachings of the path of knowledge even before the four Kumaras themselves, who were themselves supreme men of knowledge and perfected souls, showing that the Lord himself is the original, ultimate source of all knowledge and teaching, however great a man of knowledge the recipient of that teaching may be.

Krishna gave Uddhava a detailed description of the various wondrous, magical powers (the eight siddhis — anima, mahima, laghima, garima, prapti, prakamya, ishitva, and vashitva) that a seeker can attain through exceedingly advanced, prolonged yogic practice.

But he also warned Uddhava with the utmost gravity that pursuing and becoming enamored of these miraculous, alluring perfections can entirely divert a seeker from his real, supreme goal — desireless, pure love for the Lord — for these perfections are not in themselves the goal, but merely potential obstacles and temptations along the path of practice.

Krishna described to Uddhava his particular "vibhutis" — those special, superior manifestations in which he reveals his divine glory with particular clarity, exactly as described in detail in the tenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita.

He gave examples: among rivers, the Ganga; among mountains, the Himalaya; among sages, Vyasa; among trees, the peepal; and among men, the king — in all of these the Lord's particular presence and glory is especially manifest, explaining that reverently recognizing and honoring his special presence in every excellent, outstanding thing or person in the world is also, in itself, a beautiful, accessible form of devotion.

Krishna once again explained to Uddhava, briefly but clearly, the duties of the social classes (varnas) and the stages of spiritual life (ashramas), firmly emphasizing that the ultimate, single true goal of all these various, outwardly different-seeming duties is the attainment of devotion to the Lord alone, nothing else.

He again made clear that this entire social-spiritual system is in truth like a well-ordered staircase, each step of which is designed solely to help a person progressively advance from material attachment toward devotion to the Lord.

In this chapter Krishna gave a still more detailed description of the specific, extensive duties of all four ashramas — brahmacharya, grihastha, vanaprastha, and sannyasa — giving subtle guidance on how a seeker in each stage should arrange his daily routine, diet, thought, and practice.

He particularly explained that each ashrama has its own particular challenges and opportunities, and that a seeker should, in accordance with his present stage, without haste or improper comparison, patiently advance his spiritual journey.

Krishna once again, in greater detail, compared the paths of knowledge and action with devotion, making clear that although all three paths, if adopted with sincerity and dedication, can ultimately lead to the same supreme goal — attainment of the Lord — there remains a clear difference in their simplicity, safety, and speed.

He again emphasized that devotion is the safest, simplest, and most joyful of these three paths, for in it the seeker does not struggle alone, but the Lord himself takes his hand and shows him the way.

Krishna gave Uddhava a detailed description of the profound nature of the subtle body — mind, intellect, and ego — explaining how this subtle body keeps the soul bound to the gross body, and, transferring from one body to another, birth after birth, keeps the soul bound in material bondage.

He also again explained, in greater depth, the means of liberation from this bondage, particularly emphasizing that until the ego — the fundamental delusion "I am this body" — is completely dissolved, true liberation is impossible, and devotion alone is the most effective, natural means of dissolving this ego.

Krishna at last explained to Uddhava this profound, unifying truth: that true, mature devotion naturally, within itself, fully contains both knowledge and renunciation, exactly as darkness and cold both vanish of themselves with the rising of the sun.

Therefore, he made clear, a true devotee need not make any separate effort to attain knowledge or renunciation apart from devotion; devotion itself, in its fully matured form, is the most complete, most comprehensive spiritual practice, in which all other virtues become contained of themselves.

Concluding the first part of this long discourse, Krishna once again gave a systematic enumeration of the fundamental elements of Sankhya philosophy — primordial nature, mahat-tattva (cosmic intelligence), ego, and the five subtle tanmatras (sound, touch, form, taste, smell) and five gross elements (space, air, fire, water, earth) that arise from them in sequence.

Through this detailed, systematic enumeration, Krishna further strengthened and clarified Uddhava's understanding of the structure of creation and the soul's position within it, before advancing toward the next, still more practical part of this profound discourse.

Krishna, once again, from a different angle, emphasizing the profound importance of renunciation, repeated the story of that detached Avanti brahmin at greater length, particularly making clear how the fundamental nature of worldly relationships, wealth, and social prestige is itself fleeting and ultimately unsatisfying.

He emphasized that a seeker who recognizes this transience deeply, not merely at an intellectual level but at an experiential level, can, like that brahmin, embrace complete renunciation and remain entirely free and joyful within, whatever his outward circumstance may be.

Krishna presented an exceedingly brief, clear, and well-ordered summary of the entire, detailed teaching of Sankhya philosophy, establishing in Uddhava's mind a comprehensive, unified understanding of this complex but important philosophical system.

Through this summary he made clear that the ultimate purpose of Sankhya philosophy too, like every other path, is to recognize the soul as distinct from material nature, and ultimately to arrive at the shelter of devotion to the Lord — otherwise even dry, merely intellectual Sankhya knowledge remains incomplete and unfulfilled.

Krishna explained in detail how a seeker, through gradual, systematic practice, rising progressively above the three gunas — sattva, rajas, and tamas — can at last attain the supreme state of pure, guna-transcending devotion, remaining entirely unaffected and untouched by any guna of material nature.

He particularly related that on this journey, first tamas must be purified by sattva, then rajas too must be purified by sattva, and at last, transcending even sattva itself, the seeker becomes established in that divine, guna-transcending state where only pure love for the Lord remains.

Krishna once again explained in detail the classification of the four classes of Vedic society, this time particularly on the basis of the gunas, emphasizing exceedingly clearly that social class should in truth be determined not by birth, but by the guna (a particular mixture of sattva, rajas, or tamas) that manifests predominantly in a person's own nature.

He also made clear that any person, whatever varna they may have been born into, if they make continual effort to purify and refine their own qualities, can also attain the qualities of a higher varna — showing that the varna system is not a rigid, unchangeable bondage, but a dynamic, evolving spiritual framework.

Krishna once again, this time from a different, more profound perspective, recalled the previously told story of Pururava and Urvashi (also described in the Ninth Skandha), particularly emphasizing this time how Pururava, after prolonged, intense anguish of separation, at last recognized the true nature of his destructive, profound love-attachment.

He explained that Pururava at last realized that this love, however profound and real it had seemed, had ultimately led him only to unbearable sorrow and instability, and with this very realization, he renounced his kingdom and worldly life, and embraced the path of complete renunciation and devotion to the Lord, thus bringing his story to a happy, liberating conclusion.

Krishna described to Uddhava the proper, detailed rules and procedures for worshipping the deity image in a temple, including the installation of the image, its bathing, garments and ornaments, incense and lamps, offerings of food, and the proper procedure of arati.

He particularly emphasized that this entire outward form of worship, however elaborate and beautiful it may be, becomes meaningful and fruitful only when it is in complete harmony with inner devotion, reverence, and love for the Lord; without inner devotion, mere outward ritualism remains meaningless and dry.

Krishna explained in detail the profound importance of equanimity — that extraordinary capacity to see the same soul and the same portion of the Lord in all beings, whether human or animal, high or low.

He related that this equanimity, which holds no particular attachment toward anyone nor aversion toward anyone, is in truth the clearest, most direct sign of the maturity and completeness of both knowledge and devotion; a seeker who attains this vision has in truth arrived near the summit of the spiritual journey.

Krishna at last gave Uddhava his most heartfelt, final, and most practical teaching, clearly listing the nine principal forms of devotion — hearing, chanting, remembrance, service at the feet, worship, salutation, servitude, friendship, and complete self-surrender.

He gave Uddhava this firm, heartfelt assurance that any one of these nine forms, if adopted with sincerity, faith, and constancy, is entirely sufficient to carry the soul fully across this ocean of worldly existence; a devotee need not practice all nine forms — complete devotion in even one alone is sufficient.

Uddhava, at the end of this teaching, receiving this clear sign that Krishna was now certainly preparing to leave this world, became exceedingly distressed and pleaded desperately to be taken along with him. Krishna, with the utmost gentleness yet firmness, refused, and instead affectionately instructed him to go to Badarikashrama and continue his devotional practice there in solitude — this was one final, profoundly compassionate act to spare his most beloved, intimate friend from directly witnessing the terrible, heartbreaking events soon to come.

Now that terrible curse advances toward its complete, inevitable fulfillment: all the principal princes and heroes of the Yadu dynasty, ignoring certain inauspicious signs, gather at Prabhasa (near Somnath) under the pretext of a pilgrimage and celebration.

During the celebration, under the influence of liquor consumed in abundance, old grievances and bitter memories (particularly the bitterness connected to Rukmi's death at Balarama's hands) resurfaced, and soon a simple argument turned into intense anger and mutual accusations.

When no traditional weapon could be found at hand, the Yadava princes picked up stalks of the reed grass (eraka) growing on the seashore as weapons; and, according to the curse, these very stalks were in truth the remnants of that same iron club (pestle) which Samba had given birth to and which the Yadavas had ground to powder and thrown into the sea, some of whose fragments the sea's waves had washed back onto the shore, where they had grown as reed grass.

This fight, which began with these very stalks, rapidly turned into a complete, uncontrolled, mutual massacre, and by sunset, nearly all the sons, grandsons, and descendants of that age's greatest, most powerful heroes had been killed, fighting one another, by each other's own hands — thus that terrible curse was completely, inevitably fulfilled.

Krishna himself, having witnessed this complete, heartbreaking destruction of his own dynasty, and sensing that his earthly avatar-purpose was now entirely fulfilled, set out toward a quiet, solitary forest to rest.

There, in the dim hour of evening, lying peacefully beneath a tree with his left foot resting upon his right knee, a hunter named Jara, from a distance mistaking the reddish, radiant sole of that foot for the ear of a deer, released his arrow — this arrow, by coincidence, was made from the very last remaining fragment of that same iron club which the Yadavas had once thrown into the sea, and it struck with precision the one, exceedingly subtle, sensitive point on the Lord's body: the sole of his foot.

Jara, coming near and seeing with exceeding fear and remorse whom he had actually struck, began trembling and begging forgiveness. Krishna, without any anger or complaint, consoled him with the utmost gentleness, revealing that this event too had been predetermined, a debt owed from a past birth (in the Treta Yuga, as Rama himself, he had slain Vali by hiding behind a tree, and this was the fruit of that very deed), and that the hunter had no need for fear or remorse.

With this, Krishna's entire, magnificent pastime upon the earth reaches its full conclusion, his form dissolving once again into his eternal, divine, unmanifest abode — an end which the Bhagavata Purana emphatically makes clear is not death in the ordinary sense at all, for the Lord's true, divine form is never born and never dies, but this is only the beautiful, coherent completion of a divine pastime chosen freely, and freely brought to fulfillment at precisely the right time, whose sole, complete cause only love can explain, not any tragedy.