12.125
Yudhiṣṭhira said.
O grandsire, character is said to be the chief quality in a person. How does hope arise, and what is it? Please explain that to me.
O grandsire, a great doubt has arisen in me. There is no one other than you, O conqueror of enemy cities, who can remove it.
O lord, my great desire for the grandsire was indeed in Suyodhana; but when the battle arrived, whatever was proper, that ought to be done.
The hope of every person is very great. When that is destroyed, sorrow and death, without doubt, follow.
O king, see how I, made despairing and of poor understanding by that wicked son of Dhritarashtra, have become so dull in spirit.
O king, I consider hope to be greater than a mountain, greater than a tree, greater even than the sky, or perhaps it is truly immeasurable.
O best of the Kurus, this is indeed very difficult to comprehend and extremely rare. Because of its rarity, I do not see anything else rarer than this.
Bhīṣma said.
Here, Yudhiṣṭhira, listen as I narrate to you the story of Sumitra and the accomplished Ṛṣabha.
Sumitra, a royal sage of the Haihaya lineage, went hunting. He chased the deer after striking it with a bent-jointed arrow.
The deer of immeasurable valor, having taken the arrow, went away. And the strong king quickly pursued the deer from close by.
Then, O king, the swift deer ran down to the lower ground and, for a moment, followed the same path.
Then that king, youthful, strong by birth, ran forth with his bow, arrows, and sword, moving like a swan.
He crossed rivers, streams, marshes, and forests, repeatedly passing through them, and continued wandering in the forest.
But, O king, the deer, though desiring (to be caught), not having been reached, after approaching the king, again swiftly departs from there with great speed.
O king, that forest-dweller, though thoroughly struck by many of his arrows, as if sporting, again comes near.
O king, again the swift leader of the herd of deer, having assumed speed and having crossed (the distance) repeatedly, comes near once more.
Sumitra, the destroyer of enemies, took up the best arrow and shot from his bow a terrible shaft that pierced his foe’s vital parts.
Then, having moved a gavyūti's distance away, the chief among the chiefs of the deer herd, leaving the range of the arrow, stood as if smiling.
When that blazing arrow fell to the ground, then the deer entered the great forest; the king also then ran after.
After entering the great forest, the king reached the hermitage of the ascetics; then, being tired, he sat down again.
Then, having seen him, the bow-bearing one, afflicted by fatigue and hungry, the sages approached and performed honor to him according to the prescribed manner.
The sages asked, "O tiger among kings, what is your purpose? With what auspicious intention have you come to the hermitage?"
O lord of men, you are a foot-soldier equipped with sword, bow, and arrows. We wish to know this: from where have you come, O giver of honor? In which family were you born? What is your name? Please tell us.
Then that king, O best of men, informed all the Brahmanas of the proper procedures and the service, O Bhārata.
Sumitra, son of Mitra, born in the family of the Haihayas, roamed among herds of deer, slaying thousands with arrows, protected by great strength, accompanied by ministers and women.
But the deer, which I pierced with an arrow, ran away with the dart still in it. Chasing after it, I happened to reach this forest. Now, in your presence, I am a man who has lost his fortune, is hopeless, and is worn out by fatigue.
What greater suffering can there be than this? I, worn out by toil, have reached your hermitage, yet I am in despair, my signs of fortune lost.
It is not the abandonment of royal qualities, nor the ascetics of the city, that causes suffering; the suffering is intense because my hope has been destroyed.
Just as even the Himalaya or the great ocean, due to their greatness, cannot fill the space between heaven and earth, so too, though hope and austerity are supreme, I have not found their end.
Everything is known to you; you ascetics are indeed all-knowing and most highly fortunate. Therefore, I will ask you a question.
Who, in your view, is greater in this world—a hopeful man, or even the sky itself? I wish to know truly: what is difficult to obtain here?
If the secret is not revealed to you here, O ascetic, do not wait for long. Truly, O foremost of the twice-born, I do not wish to hear the secret.
If there is any obstacle to your penance by which it might be interrupted, or if there is an opportunity for conversation, this question has been asked by me.
I wish to hear the complete cause of this in reality. You, who are ever devoted to austerity, may indeed speak this with concentration.
