King Bhartrihari and the Fruit of Immortality (SIMHASANA DVATRIMSIKA)

There is a city called Ujjayini. It lacked nothing: it was better even than Indra's heaven. In it there reigned a king called Bhartrihari, who was versed in all the arts and skilled in every science. All the nobles and the lords paid him homage: the vermilion from the hair-partings of their wives reddened his feet. His own wife, Anangasenă, was more beautiful and charming than the nymphs of heaven. He also had a younger brother named Vikramaditya whose valour was greater than that of all his enemies. But he had been exiled in disgrace for some reason since the time of the king's coronation.

In this city there was a brahmin who was an adept in all the sciences, specially that of incantations. But he was exceedingly poor. He propitiated the goddess Bhuvaneśvari with a ritual of spells and charms, and she asked him to make a wish. "Goddess,' the brahmin cried, "if you are pleased with me, grant me freedom from old age and death'. The goddess gave him a divine fruit, saying, 'My son, you will never grow old or die after you eat this fruit.' The brahmin took the gift and went home. He bathed and did his devotions. Then, as he sat down to eat the celestial fruit, a thought crossed his mind. •What am I doing? he asked himself. I am so poor. Whom will ! benefit by becoming immortal? Though I live for ever, I Will still be a beggar. Even a short life is preferable if one can do some good to others. It is worthwhile only if one acquires learning, wealth and other merits, even though one lives for no more than a moment. As it is said:

His life is fruitful, say the sages, who lives acclaimed for learning, valour, wealth and other merits. For even a crow can live long, eating leftovers. The crow lives long, gobbling putrid leftovers. One truly lives, who does so with righteousness and renown. He really lives, by whose living many others live too. For, does not even a stork fill its own belly with its beak? There are thousands of petty people, engaged in filling their own bellies. That person alone stands out in virtue, who regards his own interest as serving that of others. The submarine fire consumes the ocean only to satisfy itself; the cloud does it in order to rain upon a world oppressed by summer's heat.

A man whose life, actions and qualities have no worthwhile meaning is like a word formed at random, no more than a name. Therefore this fruit should be given to the king. He will then be freed from death and ageing, and be able to protect and nurture all the four castes as it should be rightly done." Taking the fruit, the brahmin then went to Bhartrihari.

O King, may the gods Hara, who sports the serpent garland, and Hari, who wears the yellow garment, bless you." With this benediction he placed the fruit in the king's hands and said: 'Majesty, I obtained this incomparable fruit as a mark of divine grace. Eat it, and you will become immune to old age and death.' The king took the fruit, and dismissed the brahmin with many gifts. I will become immortal by eating this fruit,' he pondered, 'but I love Anangasenā deeply. She will die while I still live, and I will not be able to bear the pain of that separation. So, I will give this fruit to her instead, for she is dearer to me than life.'

He then called the queen and gave her the fruit. Now she had taken a stable hand as her lover and, after some thought, she gave the fruit to him. He passed it on to a servant maid who was his sweetheart. She in turn gave it to a cowherd with whom she was in love. The cowherd was deeply in love with a girl who carried the cow dung, and he presented the fruit to her.

The dung carrier would collect the cattle droppings and take them out of the village. She put the basket of dung on her head, flung the fruit on top of it, and came out thus on the highway. At that t ime King Bhartrihari was going on a hunt with the princes. He noticed the fruit lying on top of the excrement on the girl's head. Taking it, he turned back and went home. Then he summoned the brahmin. 8 • Simhäsana Dvätrimsika 'O brahmin,' he asked, is there another fruit of the kind you presented to me? The brahmin replied: My lord, that was a celestial fruit obtained as a gift from a god. There is no other fruit like it on earth. One may not lie to the king who too is a god personified and must be regarded as such.

The sages declare that the king is an embodiment of all the gods. A wise man should look upon him as such, and speak no lies before him.' Well,' said the king, 'what if another fruit like that one were to be here?' 'Didn't you eat it?' the brahmin asked. 'I did not eat it,' the king admitted,

I gave it to my beloved Anangasena.' "Then ask her if she ate it.' The king called Anangasenă, put her under oath, and questioned her. She acknowledged that she had given the fruit to the stablehand. The latter was summoned and asked, and he said that he had given it to the servant maid. She said that she gave it to the cowherd, and he that he had presented it to the cow dung carrier. When the truth dawned upon him, the king was overcome by a deep depression. He recited a stanza:

*In vain do men delude themselves with the youth and beauty of lovely women. Kama is king in their hearts, and does exactly what he pleases. It is said, No one, alas, can understand what women think and do. Even the gods cannot anticipate the bucking of a horse and the thundering of a cloud; the hearts of women and the fate of man; and if it will rain excessively or not at all. How then can man? Further, Men may catch a tiger in the forest, a bird in the air, or a fish in the middle of the river. But they can never gauge the fickle minds of women. What is more, Flowers may rain from the sky, and a barren woman's son may reign as king. Such things can come to pass, but women's hearts can never be straightforward. And, The wiles of women delude even those savants who understand joy and sorrow, victory and defeat, life and death. What is more, Even those with no ulterior motive say that it is in the nature of all women to want another man even though they already have one just like Kama, the god of love.

It is said, no one, alas, can understand what women think and do. Even the gods cannot anticipate the bucking of a horse or the changing moods of the human heart. Reflecting thus, King Bhartrihari was overwhelmed with sorrow and disillusionment. The love and trust that he had placed so deeply in his queen now appeared fragile and misplaced. He realized that worldly attachments, however strong they may seem, are often uncertain and subject to change. The fruit that promised immortality had instead revealed to him the impermanence and unpredictability of human relationships.

The king began to ponder upon the nature of desire and attachment. He understood that it is desire that binds a person to the cycle of joy and sorrow. When desires are fulfilled, they bring temporary happiness, but when they are betrayed or remain unfulfilled, they cause immense pain. Thus, attachment to worldly pleasures and relationships often leads to suffering. This realization shook the very foundation of his beliefs and forced him to look beyond the material world.

Gradually, a sense of detachment grew within him. He started to question the purpose of his life as a king. What was the use of power, wealth, and even immortality, if they could not guarantee true happiness or peace of mind? The throne, the riches, and the luxuries of the palace now seemed meaningless to him. He felt that a life dedicated to truth and self realization was far more valuable than one spent in the pursuit of fleeting pleasures.

The king’s thoughts turned towards renunciation. He considered the path of sages and ascetics who had given up all worldly ties in search of higher knowledge and inner peace. Such a life, though difficult, appeared to him to be free from the deceit and disappointments that characterize worldly existence. He began to see wisdom not in possession, but in letting go.

In time, this profound transformation led King Bhartrihari to detach himself from his kingdom and responsibilities. He entrusted the affairs of the state to capable hands and chose the path of renunciation. Leaving behind the palace and all its comforts, he set out in search of spiritual truth. His story thus serves as a powerful reminder that true understanding often arises from suffering and that the greatest lessons in life come from unexpected experiences.

Ultimately, the incident of the fruit of immortality did not grant eternal life to anyone, but it gave the king something far greater — the wisdom to see beyond illusions and the courage to seek a higher purpose in life.