When Krishna and the Pandavas, wearied by grief and the sorrows of the world, sought light upon the mysteries of life, they approached the venerable sage Markandeya. They entreated him to reveal the secret virtues and meritorious lives of kings, sages, and noble women. As they thus spoke, the celestial sage Narada descended, and the honoured rites due to a guest were performed for him. Narada, smiling with compassion, said to Markandeya, “Enlighten these sons of Dharma with holy tales, and soothe their burdened hearts.” Having said this, he vanished as swiftly as he came. Then Dharmaja, the eldest of the Pandavas, bowed before the sage and said, “O holy one, though we live by righteousness and are steadfast in virtue, grief surrounds us on every side.
The sons of Dhritarashtra, ever inclined to evil, dwell in splendour and ease, while we, who pursue truth and justice, are plunged into misery. My mind is restless and full of doubt. Tell me, O seer, whether man reaps the fruits of sin in this world, or whether he endures them in another, or in both. If one fails to worship the Supreme Creator, does that neglect itself become sin? Does karma cling to the soul after the body’s fall, or does it await the next birth? Be gracious and dispel this darkness from my heart.” Thus spoke Dharmaja, voicing the question that has troubled countless minds from ancient ages to this day: why do the wicked flourish, while the virtuous live in want and pain? Desiring that this mystery be explained for the wisdom of generations, he awaited the sage’s words.
Markandeya, serene and radiant, replied, “O son of Dharma, in the beginning, when Brahma fashioned mankind, their bodies were pure and their hearts upright. Truth was their speech, piety their joy, and their desires were fulfilled in righteousness. They walked freely in the ways of the gods, gained great fruit from little effort, and knew neither deceit nor envy. Their strength was firm, their wisdom deep, their children many, and their lives long. But with the passing of ages, desire, anger, and delusion took root in them.
Virtue waned; the gods withdrew. Weakness entered their limbs, sickness consumed their vigour, and their lives grew short. They toiled much and gained little. Quarrels arose; they scorned the sacred rites and forgot the gods. Falling into sin, they were reborn again and again as beasts and birds, bound forever in the wheel of birth and death. Their deeds, good or evil, pursued them as a shadow clings to form. Know this, O Dharmaja: the body perishes, but karma never dies. Its fruits must be tasted, whether in this world or the next.
“Some men enjoy their reward upon earth, some in celestial realms, some in both, and others in neither. The miser who hoards wealth gained by unrighteous means, whose mind is chained to lust and pleasure, earns no merit in heaven or on earth. His body delights for a while, but his soul is barren. Yet those who, with self-restraint and faith, perform sacrifices, recite sacred hymns, make pilgrimages, and offer gifts, though they seem to endure hardship, attain the highest bliss in the next world. He who acts with virtue in thought, word, and deed; who gains wealth justly, marries in order, raises noble children, and performs yajnas and charities—such a man enjoys happiness both here and hereafter. But he who defies truth, restrains neither senses nor tongue, corrupts his mind and body, and wrongs others for his gain—such a one perishes in misery, deprived of joy in both worlds.
“O Dharmaja, you and your brothers were born through divine grace for the welfare of the earth. You shall conquer the forces of evil and lighten the burden of sin that oppresses the world. You will perform great sacrifices and ascend to divine glory.”
At these words, Dharmaja, filled with reverence, asked the sage to speak of the greatness of the Brahmins. Markandeya then recounted an ancient tale. “Long ago, in the line of Haihaya, there was a prince named Dundhumara. One day, while hunting in the forest, he wore a deer-skin cloak and, seeing movement in the bushes, loosed an arrow, thinking he beheld a stag.
Alas, when he drew near, he found that he had slain a Brahmin sage. Stricken with grief, he returned to his city, confessed his sin to the elders, and led them to the forest where the body lay. The elders went together to the hermitage of the sage Tarkshya, a place sanctified by gods and siddhas. They bowed before him, and Tarkshya received them with honour. With folded hands, they said, ‘O venerable one, our prince has, through error, slain a Brahmin engaged in penance. We are burdened with sin. Show us the way to purification.’
“The sage smiled and said, ‘In this hermitage, no being meets an untimely death. Neither sickness nor fear nor sin can enter here. This is the marvel of the three worlds.’ Then, turning to a youth beside him, he said, ‘Behold my son, whom you thought slain—he stands before you alive.’ Astonished, the Haihayas exclaimed, ‘O holy one, this is indeed a wonder! How can the dead return to life?’ Tarkshya answered, ‘We live here in perfect austerity. No moment is wasted in idleness. Our food is ever pure, our guests are honoured, truth is our law, peace and celibacy our daily vows. Therefore, death cannot touch us. Fear and sorrow have no place within these bounds. Depart now, freed from sin.’ Thus, the Haihayas returned, marvelling at the sanctity of the Brahmins.”
The sage continued, “Hear further, O Dharmaja, of the nature of Brahmins and Kshatriyas. The great seer Atri once resolved to go into the forest to perform penance. He said to his wife, ‘O lotus-eyed one, I wish to retire to the forest for meditation. Will you come with me, or remain with our sons?’ She replied, ‘O sage, it is not fitting to abandon your children before you have guided them in duty and secured their welfare. A man must learn in youth, marry in manhood, serve the world in maturity, and renounce in old age. Such is the ancient order. Go first to King Vainya and seek from him the means for your sons’ sustenance before you retire from worldly life.’
“Pleased with her wisdom, Atri went to King Vainya, renowned for his generosity and devotion to sacrifice. The sage blessed him with sacred hymns and said, ‘O king, you are as Brahma among men, as Indra among warriors, the refuge of virtue and giver of all charity. None equals you in righteousness.’ Hearing this, the sage Gautama, present there, grew displeased and said, ‘O Atri, blinded by desire for wealth, you speak without thought. How can you liken a mortal king to Brahma, Indra, or Shiva?’ Thus began a great discourse upon the duties of the king and the Brahmin. This dialogue revealed the eternal harmony and distinction between power and wisdom, action and knowledge, law and truth.”
