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Core-Pancharatra:Lamentation by Brahmin family
Janamejaya said:
The mighty sons of Kuntī went to Ekacakrā. O best of twice-born, what did the Pāṇḍavas do thereafter?
Vaiśampāyana said:
The sons of Kuntī, the mighty warriors, stayed for a short while in the house of a brāhmaṇa at Ekacakrā.
They beheld many beautiful forests, various regions of kings, rivers, and lakes.
They all wandered for alms, O lord of men, and by their noble qualities became dear to the townspeople.
Each night they offered the alms to Kuntī, who divided it into portions, and they all ate separately.
Half of all the alms were eaten by Bhīma, of great strength, and the other half by the heroes along with their mother.
O king, thus the great-souled ones lived there, and a very long time passed, O best of the Bharatas.
Then one day, the Pāṇḍavas went out for alms, leaving Bhīmasena behind with Pṛthā by prior arrangement.
Then Kuntī heard a terrible sound of intense distress rising from the brāhmaṇa's house, O Bhārata.
Seeing them all weeping and lamenting, the noble lady, out of compassion and virtue, O king, could not bear it.
Then Pṛthā, her heart churning with sorrow, compassionately spoke these words to Bhīma, O auspicious one.
O son, we dwell happily in this brāhmaṇa’s house, honored, unknown to the sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, and without cause for anger.
I always ponder, O son, what good I may do for this brāhmaṇa, in whose house we have lived so happily.
O dear one, such is the man whose deed does not perish, who returns greater good than he has received.
Now this sorrow has surely come upon the brāhmaṇa. If we help him, it would be a noble deed indeed.
Bhīma said:
Let us learn what his sorrow is and from where it has arisen. Once known, I will resolve to act, even if it be most difficult.
Vaiśampāyana said:
As they conversed thus, the two again heard the sound of distress from that brāhmaṇa and his wife, O lord of men.
Then Kuntī, like a cow whose calf is tied, quickly entered the inner quarters of that great-souled brāhmaṇa.
There she saw the brāhmaṇa, along with his wife, son, and daughter, all with faces distorted by grief.
The brāhmaṇa said:
Fie on this life in the world — unsubstantial, fruitless, rooted in sorrow, dependent on others, and full of distress.
In life, the highest sorrow and the greatest affliction exist; for one who lives, the arrival of dualities is certain.
Even though one has a single self, he does not fulfill dharma, artha, or desire fully. Separation from these too is considered great sorrow.
Some declare liberation to be supreme, yet it does not exist in any way; even in the acquisition of wealth, complete misery arises.
The desire for wealth brings great sorrow; attaining it brings even more; and for one who has become attached, separation from it brings the greatest sorrow.
I see no way by which I might escape this calamity or flee in peace with my wife and son.
I made effort earlier, as you know, O brāhmaṇī, to go where safety lay, but you did not heed my words.
I was born and raised here; you said, “my father is here” — yet, O fool, you ignored my repeated pleadings.
Your aged father and long-lost mother are in heaven; your past relatives too. What joy is there in dwelling there now?
This is the result of your desire for kin, having ignored my words. The loss of kin has occurred, and it causes me deep sorrow.
Or else this shall be my end, for I cannot abandon my kin while alive, like a cruel man.
She who shares my dharma, is self-restrained, like a mother to me, appointed by the gods as my constant companion and highest path.
Appointed by my parents as the sharer of household life, lawfully chosen and ritually married by me.
I cannot abandon you, my noble, virtuous wife, mother of my child, ever devoted and faultless, even to save my life.
How then shall I myself abandon my daughter, still a child, not of age, with undeveloped features?
Entrusted to me by the Creator for her husband’s sake, in whom I hope to attain ancestral worlds—how can I abandon this child whom I myself have begotten?
Some men say a father’s love for a son is greater. But for me, both are equal in affection.
She, the sinless girl in whom creation and joy ever dwell—how can I bear to abandon her?
I shall abandon myself and die, for clearly, these ones abandoned by me would not be able to live on.
To abandon even one of them is cruelty and condemned by the wise. And if I give up my life, they too will perish without me.
I have fallen into great distress and cannot overcome this calamity. Alas! I shall go today with my kin to that condemnable end. Death with all of them is better than life, which I can no longer bear.
