Maya and Freedom

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We are all like this in the world. A legend tells how once Narada

said to Krishna, " Lord, show me Maya. " A few days passed away, and

Krishna asked Narada to make a trip with him towards a desert, and

after walking for several miles, Krishna said, " Narada, I am thirsty;

can you fetch some water for me? " " I will go at once, sir, and get

you water. " So Narada went. At a little distance there was a village;

he entered the village in search of water and knocked at a door,

which was opened by a most beautiful young girl. At the sight of her

he immediately forgot that his Master was waiting for water, perhaps

dying for the want of it. He forgot everything and began to talk with

the girl. All that day, he was again at the house, talking to the

girl. That talk ripened into love; he asked the father for the

daughter, and they were married and lived there and had children.

Thus twelve years passed. His father-in-law died, he inherited his

property. He lived, as he seemed to think, a very happy life with his

wife and children, his fields and his cattle, and so forth. Then came

a flood. One night the river rose until it overflowed its banks and

flooded the whole village. Houses fell, men and animals were swept

away and drowned, and everything was floating in the rush of the

stream. Narada had to escape. With one hand he held his wife, and

with other two of his children; another child was on his shoulders,

and he was trying to ford this tremendous flood. After a few steps he

found the current was too strong, and the child on his shoulders fell

and was borne away. A cry of despair came from Narada. In trying to

save that child, he lost his grasp upon one of the others, and it

also was lost. At last his wife, whom he clasped with all his might,

was torn away by the current, and he was thrown on the bank, weeping

and wailing in bitter lamentation. Behind him there came a gentle

voice, " My child, where is the water? You went to fetch a pitcher of

water, and I am waiting for you; you have been gone for quite half an

hour. " " Half an hour! " Narada exclaimed. Twelve whole years had

passed through his mind, and all these scenes had happened in half an

hour! And this is Maya.

 

In one form or another, we are all in it. It is a most difficult and

intricate state of things to understand. It has been preached in

every country, taught everywhere, but only believed by a few, because

until we get the experiences ourselves we cannot believe in it. What

does it show? Something very terrible. For it is all futile. Time,

the avenger of everything, comes, and nothing is left. He swallows up

the saint and the sinner, the king and the peasant, the beautiful and

the ugly; he leaves nothing. Everything is rushing towards that one

goal, destruction. Our knowledge, our arts, our sciences, everything

is rushing towards it. None can stem the tide, none can hold it back

for a minute. We may try to forget it, in the same way that persons

in a plague-stricken city try to create oblivion by drinking,

dancing, and other vain attempts, and so becoming paralysed. So we

are trying to forget, trying to create oblivion by all sort of sense-

pleasures. And this is Maya.

 

Two ways have been proposed. One method, which everyone knows, is

very common, and that is: " It may be very true, but do not think of

it. `Make hay while the sun shines,' as the proverb says. It is all

true, it is a fact, but do not mind it. Seize the few pleasures you

can, do not look at the dark side of the picture, but always towards

the hopeful, the positive side. " There is some truth in this, but

there is also a danger. The truth is that it is a good motive power.

Hope and a positive ideal are very good motive powers for our lives,

but there is a certain danger in them. The danger lies in our giving

up the struggle in despair. Such is the case with those who

preach, " Take the world as it is; sit down as calmly and comfortably

as you can and be contented with all those miseries. When you receive

blows, say they are not blows but flowers; and when you are driven

about like slaves, say that you are free. Day and night tell lies to

others and to your own souls, because that is the only way to live

happily. " This is what is called practical wisdom, and never was it

more prevalent in the world than in this nineteenth century; because

never were harder blows hit than at the present time, never was

competition keener, never were men so cruel to their fellow-men as

now; and, therefore, must this consolation be offered. It is put

forward in the strongest way at the present time; but it fails, as it

always must fail. We cannot hide a carrion with roses; it is

impossible. It would not avail long; for soon the roses would fade,

and the carrion would be worse than ever before. So with our lives.

We may try to cover our old and festering sores with cloths of gold,

but there comes a day when the cloth of gold is removed, and the sore

in all its ugliness is revealed.

 

- Swami Vivekananda

 

.... to be continued