Rough Passage to the Bodhi Tree , livre ebook

Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd. - K Kumar Shiv

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91 pages

English

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A prince once gave up everything to attain inner peace, creating the world's most treasured and well-known coming-of-age story: Siddhartha's journey to Enlightenment; his transformation from a mere mortal to an enlightened soul. Join Siddhartha, the 'brooding dove', as he wins Yashodhara's hand in marriage, challenges his father-in-law, celebrates with wine and festivities and then, to everyone's surprise and consternation, renounces it all. Seeking the path of the wise, he lay the noble path for us. This is the story of how an ordinary mortal came to see the light. Aged ninety-two, Shiv K. Kumar injects the wisdom of a lifetime of writing into this immortal tale, fashioning the Buddha's story into, possibly, each of our own.

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Philosophy

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Publié par	Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd.
Date de parution	18 septembre 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9788184004793
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0480€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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ROUGH PASSAGE TO THE BODHI TREE
Praise for Rough Passage to the Bodhi Tree:
Rough Passage to the Bodhi Tree presents a vivid, evocative fable of the Buddha s life, with a strong spiritual element and wisdom to it. Shiv Kumar has made Buddha s complex philosophies, especially of compassion and good action, deeply accessible -Bapsi Sidhwa
An imaginative recreation of the Buddha as a messiah of love, peace and compassion. A beautifully written story full of drama, suspense and romance -Sharad Dutt, former director of Doordarshan
This is a novel based on the life of the Buddha, written in a language that is evocative and charged with poetic intensity
-B. Gopal Rao, critic and writer
Praise for Nude before God:
A most amusing novel on a daring subject -Graham Greene
Very funny and clever and rather amusing A modernist and emancipated writer, dealing with his native traditions rather fluently -Christopher Hitchens
The afterlife as satire. This heroic reissue resurrects a lost Indian classic -Jeet Thayil
Praise for Train to Delhi:
Shiv K. Kumar s novel has both beauty and power. It re-creates, in a language that glows with fragrance and colour, not only the trauma that one associates with Partition, but also love, compassion and forgiveness that it evoked even in the midst of communal frenzy. Here is a poet s visualization of the India of 1947-its brutality and romance, its agony and ecstasy -Mulk Raj Anand
ROUGH PASSAGE TO THE BODHI TREE
SHIV K. KUMAR
RANDOM HOUSE INDIA
Published by Random House India in 2013
Copyright Shiv K. Kumar 2013
Random House Publishers India Private Limited Windsor IT Park, 7th Floor, Tower-B A-1, Sector-125, Noida-201301, UP
Random House Group Limited 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road London SW1V 2SA United Kingdom
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author s and publisher s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 9788184004793
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
To
Ramesh my son, not my son-in-law,
Vandana, my daughter,
Shehan, my grandson
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Best of Faiz
Nude before God
Train to Delhi
Liberation from pain is possible
through detachment.

Not through dogma or ritualism can salvation be attained but only through
righteous action.

When I m gone, let my teaching alone be
my successor.
The Buddha
1

King Suddhodana was pleasantly surprised when his son, Siddhartha, offered to take part in an open competition to win the hand of Princess Yashodhara. The royal chief priest, Asita, had advised the king that the only way to divert his son from his otherworldliness was to trap him in wedlock. The king had been worried about Siddhartha s spending long hours in meditation, and showing no interest in state affairs. Although the prince had received some training in martial arts, his heart lay in prayer and meditation. No wonder, he was called a brooding dove by some.
Since King Suddhodana knew that his son would fare poorly in any martial competition, he thought of an arranged marriage for him. But Yashodhara s father, King Suprabuddha, insisted on honouring the Sakya tradition of an open contest to decide who would win his daughter s hand.
But when your daughter is already in love with Siddhartha, where s the need to have a public display of martial skills? asked Suddhodana.
I m afraid I cannot forsake the Sakya custom, countered Suprabuddha.
When word went around about an open competition, which carried the fanfare of a swayamvara, three contestants jumped into the fray to win the hand of the most beautiful maiden in the kingdom. With anxiety and eagerness writ large across their faces, they waited breathlessly for the first round of the contest.
Yashodhara appeared on the scene, like a goddess on earth. Her complexion white as Nandini s milk, eyes glowing like starlight, she walked as gracefully into the ladies enclosure as a gazelle.
One of the contestants was Devadatta, who d never forgotten his humiliation at the hands of Siddhartha, his cousin. One morning, as they were both watching a flock of swans in the sky, Devadatta picked up his bow and shot down a swan which dropped on the ground, grievously wounded. Siddhartha rushed to the bird that was bleeding and gasping for breath, placed it on his lap, and wiped off the blood with a piece of cloth torn from his robe. Then he poured some water down its throat and caressed its feathers. The bird felt rejuvenated. When Devadatta claimed it as his prize, Siddhartha refused to surrender it. As an argument developed between the two, the matter was referred to Sage Kanya who decided in favour of Siddhartha.
While you are its killer, O Devadatta, the sage said, Siddhartha is its saviour. So you cannot claim the bird.
Devadatta, therefore, took the contest as an opportunity to avenge this humiliation.
The other two contestants, Nanda and Arjuna, were also determined to vanquish Siddhartha, the crown prince of Kapilavastu. They hoped that he might even withdraw from the contest, brooding dove that he was.
But to everyone s surprise, Siddhartha rode into the arena, on his milk-white horse, Kanaka, who neighed at the crowd, wondering what the occasion was all about. As Yashodhara caught a glimpse of the prince, she blushed. What if some other suitor won the day? she asked herself. She d then immolate herself. As Siddhartha let Kanaka ride past the enclosure where Yashodara was seated, he stole a glance at her and smiled, as if assuring her that he d certainly carry the day.
The first martial feat was the sword-play. Each contestant was required to cut the massive trunk of a mango tree at one stroke. Brandishing his sword, Devadatta leapt forward as if nothing could resist the sharp blade of his sword, not even a granite rock. But as he held up his sword and struck at the tree s trunk, its blade broke into splinters. Humiliated, he retreated to his seat.
Then Arjuna, whose mighty sword appeared invincible, entered the arena. But as he plunged it into the trunk, it also splintered, and he too withdrew, his head bowed.
Nanda met the same fate, although he did a little better as his sword sliced the trunk more than halfway.
All eyes were now riveted on Siddhartha who stepped forward, holding in his right hand a bejewelled sword which glimmered in the mid-day sun. He first closed his eyes, as if he were muttering some mantra, and then kissed his sword s hilt. Then he plunged it into the trunk. So smoothly did the sword cleave through the trunk that the mango tree still stood erect, like a chicken whose head had been chopped off but whose body stood upright for a few seconds. Suddenly, the stout tree lurched to one side, and crashed to the ground. The crowd was stunned, and then a loud cheer rent the air.
When it came to archery, Arjuna whispered into Nanda s ears, That was the farthest Siddhartha can go. Maybe his sword had a special blade. So it was the steel that did it, not his might. He paused. Now let me show you how my bow can sing as I twang it. And since my arrow has the eagle-eye, it can hit a target even if it moves like a shooting star.
The target was a small cowry shell placed on a rock, fifteen gows away. It was multi-tinted, with a black dot on its centre. Each archer was required to hit the dot, not the outer shell of the cowry.
Arjuna was a renowned sharp-shooter who d won many contests. He strutted forth, brandishing his bow above his head. It was a weapon that had never let him down so far. He steadied himself and then, concentrating on the black dot, he released the arrow. But it grazed past only the upper fringe of the cowry. He was knocked out of the contest.
He was followed by Nanda whose arrow hit only the rock on which the cowry stood. He, too, returned to his seat, defeated.
Devadatta also had to bite the dust as his arrow flew well beyond the cowry.
Next came Siddhartha, holding his bow which had a ruby-studded hilt. Holding it in his right hand, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fixed it to the bow. Again he closed his eyes, and remained still for quite a while.
There s the brooding dove, bantered Arjuna to Nanda. Archery is not meditation, you know.
I agree, responded Nanda.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted in a thunderous applause. Siddhartha s arrow had penetrated the black dot of the cowry.
Well done! shouted someone from the crowd.
A neat stroke! cried another man.
Yashodhara clapped her hands, her face radiant with joy. Sitting on the dais, King Suddhodana couldn t control his happiness. Turning to King Suprabuddha, he said, If he has come through so far, I m sure he ll clear the last test as well.
I hope so, Suprabuddha said. But it s always the last battle that decides a war.
The final test, in horsemanship, turned out to be the toughest. Instead of riding his own steed, each competitor was required to mount an unbridled, savage stallion. So when a wild horse was brought into the arena, everyone in the audience was concerned about Siddhartha.
It was an ebony-coloured stallion, its nostrils breathing fire and its hooves digging into the ground. Glowering at the crowd, it seemed to challenge anyone to dare to come near it. Since mounting such a wild creature was like courting death, King Suddhodana was seized with fear. He summoned one of his counsellors to bring Siddhartha to him. As the prince approach