Peaceful Parables

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

The Story of Jatila

 

 

In a village in India there was once a little boy

whose name was Jatila.

 

Jatila's mother was a widow and there was no

one to help her. She earned a little money by

spinning yarn. She and Jatila always had just

enough to eat, but they were very poor.

 

Every day Jatila's mother prayed to Sri

Krishna. She asked him to help her to look

after her little boy because she wanted him to

grow up into a strong and good man.

 

When Jatila was old enough his mother sent

him to school. The school was far away in the

next village and to get there Jatila had to walk

through a forest.

 

The tall trees in the forest made the footpath

very dark, and Jatila felt afraid.

 

Some of the trees had long low branches that

looked like arms trying to catch him. Other

trees had creepers growing on them, and the

stems of the creepers looked like huge snakes.

 

I wish I had someone with me,' Jatila thought

to himself.

 

'It wouldn't be so bad if I had someone to talk

to.'

 

But Jatila was alone, so he hurried on and

reached the school as quickly as he could.

 

Jatila was happy at school. He liked the

teacher and during playtime he had some fun

with the other boys.

 

When school was over, however, and it was

time to go home, Jatila suddenly remembered

that he would again have to walk through the

forest.

 

It was much worse this time. The forest was

darker than ever and there were strange

shadows everywhere. There were those arms,

always trying to catch him! And there were

those things, like snakes climbing up the

trunks of the trees.

 

Jatila began to run. He ran and ran all the way

through the forest and did not stop until he

reached home.

 

As soon as he saw his mother, Jatila' began to

cry.

 

'What has happened?' asked his mother. And

'she took him on her lap to comfort him.

 

'Did the teacher scold you?'

 

'Oh, no, Ma,' replied Jatila. 'I was happy at

school. But it's the forest, Ma. It's such a long

way through the forest, and I'm all alone, so 1

feel afraid.'

 

'But there's nothing to be afraid of in the

forest,' said his mother. 'You'll soon get used

to it.'

 

'No, Ma,' said Jatila. 'I feel very frightened.

Please send someone with me.'

 

'But who can I send, Jatila?' replied his

mother. 'There is no one who can go with

you.'

 

Jatila's mother closed her eyes and seemed to

be thinking very hard. Suddenly she opened

them again and her face lit up with a smile.

 

'Of course!' she cried. 'How silly of me to

forget. There is your big brother in the forest.

He will go with you and take care of you.'

 

Jatila was astonished.

 

'Big brother?' he said. 'Have 1 got a big

brother, Ma?'

 

'Yes, child,' she said. 'His name is

Madhusudan.'

 

'But where is he, Ma?' asked Jatila. 'Why

doesn't he live here with us ?'

 

'He lives in the forest,' his mother answered.

'He looks after the cows there. But if you call

to him tomorrow on your way to school, 1

am sure he will leave his cows and walk with

you through the forest.'

 

Jatila was very happy. Now. instead of feeling

afraid of the forest he was longing for the

next day to come so that he could run quickly

to the forest and see his big brother there.

 

Early the next morning Jatila said good-bye to

his mother and went off to school.

 

His mother stood at the door of her cottage

watching him as he hurried eagerly towards

the forest.

 

'Oh, Madhusudan,' she prayed, 'please take

care of my little boy.'

 

As soon as Jatila entered the forest he stood

still.

 

'Oh, big brother Madhusudan,' he called.

'Please come and walk with me through the

forest.'

 

Jatila waited and listened, but no one

answered, and no one came.

 

'He must be a long way off,' thought Jatila. 'I'll

call louder.' So again he called, as loud as he

could, but still no one came.

 

'I know he is here in the forest,' Jatila said to

himself, 'and 1 know he will come because

Ma said he would.'

 

Again and again Jatila called to his big

brother, but still no one came.

 

Jatila began to cry.

 

'Ma said you would come,' he sobbed.

'Where are you?'

 

At that moment Jatila heard the sound of a

flute.. Such sweet music he had never heard.

 

The music came closer and closer, and then at

last Jatila saw a boy coming towards him

down the forest path.

 

He was a most handsome boy. On his head he

wore a crown, bright and beautiful, with a

peacock's feather in it. He was playing the

flute, and he seemed to shine with happiness.

 

Jatila joyfully ran to the handsome boy.

 

'Are you Madhusudan, my big brother?' he

asked. 'Ma said that if I called to you, you

would leave your cows and walk with me

through the forest. I have to go to school,

you see.'

 

'Yes, I am your big brother,' replied the boy.

'Come along,' I'll walk with you through the

forest.'

 

Jatila walked. with his big brother and told

him about his life at home and how glad he

was that he was now big enough to go to

school. He quite forgot how frightened he had

felt the day before.

 

When they came to the end of the forest path,

Madhusudan stopped.

 

'I shall go back now,' he said.

 

'But will you walk with.me again in the

evening?' Jatila asked. 'I shall feel very

frightened if you don't come.'

 

'Oh, yes,' replied Madhusudan.

'Just call to me and I'll come to you.'

 

Every morning and every evening as soon as

he reached the forest Jatila called to his big

brother. And always his big brother came and

walked with him. Jatila talked to him happily

about his mother and about everything that

happened at school, and Madhusudan listened

and sometimes played his flute.

 

One evening on his way home from school,

Jatila told his big brother about a feast they

were going to have at school. The teacher had

said that every child must bring something to

the feast.

 

'And tomorrow,' Jatila explained, 'I shall have

to say what I am going to take.'

 

'Well, what are you going to take?' asked

Madhusudan.

 

'I don't know,' replied Jatila. 'We are very

poor, you see. Perhaps I won't be able to take

anything.'

 

'Ask Ma about it,' Madhusudan said.

'She will know what to do.'

 

When Jatila asked his mother what he would

be able to take to the feast, she looked very

sad.

 

'I have nothing to give you, Jatila,' she said.

'And I have no money, so I cannot buy

anything either. Why don't you ask your big

brother about it ?'

 

'He told me to ask you about it,' Jatila replied.

'He said you would know what to do.'

 

His mother smiled.

 

'Did he?' she said. 'Very well. Tell him that I

depend upon him.'

 

The next morning on his way to school, Jatila

explained to his big brother that his mother

was so poor to send anything to the feast.

 

'She said she depended upon you,' Jatila

added.

 

'All right,' Madhusudan replied laughing, 'tell

your teacher that you will bring curds to the

feast. And tell him that you will bring enough

for everyone.'

 

Jatila laughed.

 

'It will have to be a very big pot of curds

then,' he said, 'because there will be about

twenty of us.'

 

The day of the feast came and Jatila ran

happily to meet his big brother in the forest.

He was eagerly looking forward to taking that

big pot of curds to school.

 

His big brother came walking down the forest

path as usual, and he brought with him a pot

of curds.

 

'Give this to your teacher,' he said as he gave

it to Jatila.

 

Jatila took the pot but he looked at it sadly. It

was not a big pot at all. It was a very small

pot. There would be curds only for about six

people, he thought.

 

Madhusudan looked at Jatila 's sad face.

 

'Give it to your teacher,' he said. 'It will be

enough.'

 

When Jatila's teacher saw the small pot of

curds he was very angry.

 

'You promised to bring curds for everyone,'

he said, 'so I did not arrange for any more.

What is the use of this small pot of curds

when there are so many of us ? You have

spoiled the feast, Jatila.' The small pot of

curds was placed on one side. The feast was

nearly over when the teacher remembered it.

 

'We should not waste the curds,' he said. 'A

few children may have some. Jatila, bring the

pot of curds.'

 

Jatila took the pot and gave some curds to

three or four children. Then he noticed

something very strange. As he took curds out

of the pot it filled up again. So he walked

down the two rows of children and put plenty

of curds on each child's leaf-plate.

 

The teacher watched Jatila in amazement.

 

'Jatila,' he cried, 'you have given curds to

everyone. Howe did you do that? I thought

you brought only one small pot of curds.'

 

'Yes, sir.' Jatila replied. 'This is the pot. But

look, it is still full.'

 

'Impossible!' cried the teacher. 'where did you

get this pot of curds form? Tell me at once.?

 

'Sir,' said Jatila, 'my big brother gave it to me.'

 

'Your big brother? I didn't know you had a

big brother,' the teacher said.

 

'I didn't know either,' replied Jatila, 'until I

began to come to school. He walks with me

through the forest, you see.'

 

'But where does he live? What is his name?'

asked the teacher, feeling greatly puzzled.

 

Jatila then told his teacher all about

Madhusudhan - What he did, what he looked

like, and how sweetly he could play the flute.

 

'Jatila,' said the teacher, 'I would like to see

this big brother of yours. Can I go with You

to meet. him?'

 

Oh, yes, of course,' replied Jatila eagerly.

'Come with me to the forest this evening. I

have only to call him and he comes to me.

 

When it was time for Jatila to go home, his

teacher went with him to the forest.

 

Jatila called as usual to Madhusudan, but he

did not come. Again and again Jatila called,

but still he did not come.

 

'I think, Jatila,' said the teacher, 'that you have

not been speaking the truth. You have no big

brother who lives in the forest.' Jatila began to

cry.

 

'It is true. It is true,' he wept. 'I have a big

brother, I tell you. His name is Madhusudan.

He gave me the curds.'

 

'Where is he, then?' said the teacher.

 

'Oh, big brother Madhusudan,' called Jatila

loudly. 'You must come to me now. You

must. If you don't, my teacher will never

believe that 1 have spoken the truth.'

 

At that moment Jatila heard the sound of a

flute.

 

'There'!' he cried, 'He is coming! See how

beautifully he plays the flute.'

 

The teacher listened to the flute and eagerly

looked around for the player. But still

Madhusudan did not come.

 

Instead, a beautiful voice spoke from

somewhere among the trees of the forest.

 

'Jatila,' said the voice, 'it will be a long

time yet before your teacher is able to see me.

 

You have seen me, Jatila, because of your mother.

She is pure and good and full of faith. She

begged me to take care of you in the forest

and that is why 1 came to walk with you

every day. You have seen me because your

mother had faith in me and because you had

faith in your mother.'

 

Then, at last, Jatila understood. His big

brother who lived in the forest really was

Madhusudan.

 

Om Shanti

 

from the web

 

 

 

[theist]

I love stories like these.

 

Thanks adreamgodus.

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

SELF-SURRENDER

 

Once a brahmin priest worshipped the Lord with many different kinds of flowers.

 

Then he asked, "Lord! Do you want any other flower now?

 

Are you satisfied now?" The priest was

proud that he had done something big, that he had given the Lord everything.

 

The Lord said, "There is one more flower."

 

"What flower is that," asked the priest.

 

"Manasa pushpa (mind-flower)," said the Lord.

 

"Where can I find that," asks the priest.

 

"Right here," says the Lord.

 

He meant the flower that is the heart. Without knowing this, the priest

wandered all over looking for

manasa pushpa, all due to the lack

of sraddha (devotion).

 

After running around for a long time, he came back exhausted and fell at the Lord's feet and said with great sadness,

 

"Lord, I could not get manasa pushpa anywhere; please be satisfied with this!

 

I have only my heart to give you!" The Lord

replied,

 

"This is the manasa pushpa I asked for!

What I want is the flower of purity and love. Without that, even if you spend millions and do puja for a hundred

births, you will not get My presence

for even a second.

The attitude of surrender is the bridge

that brings you close to Me. You have

not put up that bridge. I am waiting

near you for that."

 

-a story from Vinatta Kumar's collection

of Hindu stories

Om Shanti

 

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti...

 

It was nice to know that you

enjoyed this story...please

add a story too, then, in this

way...we may allow for a true

garden of beauty to bloom...

 

blooms for many seasons!

 

Om Shanti

[bhaktajoy]

I loved reading it.Thanks!

Sometimes,we forget the lord but he is always there watching over us.Big brother he is!

 

I did search on jatila and found this.

 

http://www.kriya.org/magazine/vol9_3/jatila.htm

 

This story was told by Ramakrishna Parahamsa

[vsdprasad]

I really like reading such stories.

In hyderabad, there are some summer schools for children where they are taught such moral stories, bhagavad gita slokas, extra curricular activities etc.

I had some experience with such summer camps when I was a child as I was sent to a summer camp twice after my naughtiness was felt unbearable at home!.

you can really see how those small children listen carefully to such moral stories by their teacher. It is altogether a different experience listening to moral stories under the shade of a tree in a cool breeze far away from the city life .

 

-Prasad.

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti..

 

Dear Bhaktajoy, i have enjoyed looking

at the link provided..thank you!

 

Here is a another story, may it be

enjoyed...

 

--The Humble Clay Pot--

 

A water bearer in India had two large

pots, each hung on each side of a pole

which he carried across his neck.

 

One of the pots had a crack in it, while

the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion at the end

of the long walk back.

 

For two good years this happened on a

daily basis with the water bearer

delivering one and one half pots of

water to his master's house.

 

Of course, the perfect pot was proud

of its accomplishments, perfect to the

end for which it was made. But, the

poor cracked pot was ashamed of its

own imperfection and one day spoke to

the water bearer at the stream in which

the water was gathered.

 

The pot said, "I am from the clay of

the river, maybe, to this very river

I should return so that you can have

a more perfect pot to carry the water".

 

The water bearer, in compassion, seeing

the shame of the cracked pot said,

 

"Friend, when we go back to the master's house today, look amongst the beautiful flowers along the path".

 

As they traveled along the road, the

cracked pot saw the beautiful flowers blooming along with dancing butterflies.

An aroma of sweet divinity from the

many flowers that grew there enveloped

the air.

 

The pot was indeed overjoyed. Yet, as

they arrived to the master's house the

pot was again sad, as it noted that half

of it's water had again spilt out.

 

On the way back, the bearer pointed out

a section of barren ground and then told

the pot this story...

 

When I saw that you were cracked I planted seeds, so as to take advantage of the water that spilt along the way

 

...and for these two years you, with the water that fell from your cracks, have created this beautiful garden that

otherwise would not be.

 

When the pot thought of the blessing

that had occurred due to these supposed flaws it smiled deeply.

 

To think that the cracks actually created

a blessing in another life.

 

**What may seem as a weakness, may, in truth, be our greatest strength.

 

--this story is from the web, but, has been embellished a little by me.

 

Om Shanti

 

 

 

 

 

 

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti...

 

Dear Vsdprasad, well, dear,

now you're on the spot!

 

How about sharing a few of those

childhood stories with our

members? We wait with bated

breaths....

 

Here is another story...

 

--The Little Musk deer--

 

In India, there is a beautiful tale

about the Little Musk Deer, who in

seeking the Divine, goes on a special

spiritual search...

 

One day, it has been said, a little musk deer went to his granny musk deer. He was very puzzled. "Granny", he said,

 

"I smell a haunting fragrance.

What is it? Where is it coming from?"

 

"Why don't you go and smell the animals

in the forest to see if it comes from

them," said the Granny.

 

So the musk deer went to the lion,

smelled the lion, and said, "No it's

not the lion".

 

Then he went to the tiger and said,

"Oh no, it is definitely not from the tiger."

 

Then the monkey, the bear, the fish,

the elephant: one by one, he went to

all of the animals in the forest.

 

Finally, quite baffled, returning to

Granny, the Little Deer said,

 

"I have been to every animal in the

forest,and none of them has this perfume."

 

Granny just smiled wisely and said, here, smell your own paw."

 

The little musk deer lifed his paw, gave it a sniff, and let out a cry of joy.

 

It comes from me?

It comes form me!

It comes form me.

 

Dear Ones, always, we must remember,

the magic:

 

That Divinity is Within!

 

Om Shanti

 

 

[Guest guest]

Will anyone give me the source to locate the detailed story of Kantimati, who was a great Pativrata woman. She served her husband, who had abandoned her for a prostitute, till the very end. After the death of her husband (by choking on a piece of finger of Kantimati who had come to serve him water)Kantimati followed the custom of Sati and went to Vishuloka, whereas her husband became a hunter.

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti...

 

The Serpent and a Sage

by Sri Ramakrishna

 

A serpent dwelt in a certain locality.

No one dared to pass by that way, for

whoever did so was instantaneously

bitten to death by that serpent.

 

Once a holy man passed by. As usual

the serpent pursued that sage with

a view of biting him, but when it

approached the holy man, it lost all

its ferocity and was over-powered

by his gentleness.

 

Seeing the snake, the holy man said,

Well, friend, do you want to bite me?

The snake was abashed and made no reply.

 

At this the sage said again,

Hearken, friend, do not injure

anyone in future.

 

The snake bowed and nodded assent.

 

After the sage had gone his own way,

the snake entered its hole, and

 

thenceforth began to live a life of

innocence and purity without even

wishing to harm anyone.

 

In a few days the snake had lost all

its venom and was no more dangerous,

and so people began to tease it.

 

Some pelted stones at it and others

dragged it mercilessly by the tail.

Thus there was no end to its troubles.

 

Fortunately, sometime after, the sage

again passed that way seeing the bruised

and battered condition of the poor snake,

was very much moved to pity and inquired

about the cause of its distress.

 

At this the snake replied. Sir, I have

been reduced to this state, because I

have not been injuring anyone since I

received your instruction. But alas!

 

They are so merciless! The sage

smilingly said Dear friend, I only

advised you not to bite anyone, but

I never asked you not to hiss and

frighten others.

 

Although you should not bite any

creature, still you should keep

every one at a considerable

distance from you by "hissing".

 

Similarly, if you live in the world,

make yourself feared and respected.

Do not injure, but do not at the same

time let others injure you.

 

Om Shanti

 

[Guest guest]

 

 

The sage

smilingly said Dear friend, I only

advised you not to bite anyone, but

I never asked you not to hiss and

frighten others.

 

Although you should not bite any

creature, still you should keep

every one at a considerable

distance from you by "hissing".

 

Similarly, if you live in the world,

make yourself feared and respected.

Do not injure, but do not at the same

time let others injure you

 

 

GGGRRRRRROAUOOWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLL.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.......

Moooo Ha ha Ha.

[Guest guest]

this was already pasted on ...

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

Seven Jars

by

Sri Ramakrishna

 

 

A barber, who was passing under

a haunted tree heard a voice say,

 

"will you accept seven jars full

of gold?"

 

The barber looked around, but

could see no one. The offer of

seven jars of gold, however,

roused his cupidity and he

cried aloud,

 

"yes, I shall accept the seven jars."

 

At once came the reply.

 

"Go home, I have carried the jars

to your house."

 

The barber ran home in hot haste

to verify the truth of his strange

announcement. And when he entered

the house, he saw the jars before

him.

 

He opened them and found them

all full of gold, except the

last one which was only half-full.

 

A strong desire now arouse in the

mind of the barber to fill the

seventh jar also; for without it

his happiness was incomplete.

 

He therefore converted all his

ornaments into gold coins and

put them into the jar;

 

but the mysterious vessel was

as before. So one day he

requested the king to increase

his pay, saying his income was

not sufficient to maintain him

self on. Now the barber was

a favourite of the king, and

as soon as the request was made

the king doubled his pay.

 

All this pay he save and put into

the jar, but the greed jar showed

no signs of filling. At last he

began to live by begging from door

to door, and his professional income

and the income from begging all went

into the insatiable cavity of the

mysterious jar.

 

Months passed, and the condition of

the miserable and miserly barber

grew worse every day. Seeing his

sad plight, the king asked him

one day,

 

"hello! When your pay was half of

what you now get, you were happy,

cheerful and contented; but with

double the pay, I see your morose,

careworn and dejected. What is the

matter with you? Have you got

'the seven jars'?"

 

The barber was taken aback by this

question and replied,

 

"Your Majesty, who has informed you of this?"

 

the king said,

 

"Don't you know that these are the signs

of the person to whom the Yaksha consigns

the seven jars.

 

He offered me also the same jars, but

I asked him whether his money might be

spent or was merely to be hoarded.

 

No sooner had I asked this question

then the Yaksha ran away without any

reply.

 

Don't you know that no one can spend

that money? It only brings with it the

desire of hoarding.

 

Go at once and return the money."

 

The barber was brought to his senses

by this advice, and he went to the

haunted tree and said,

 

"Take back your gold, O Yaksha."

The Yaksha replied, "All right."

 

When the barber returned home, he

found that the seven jars had vanished

and mysteriously as they were brought in,

and with it also had vanished his life-long

savings.

 

Such is the state of some men in the

Kingdom of Heaven. Those who do not

understand the difference between

what is real expenditure and what

is real income, lose all they have.

 

Om Shanti

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

Sorry, but, i don't concure. Stores are not spamming, how silly to say. In fact, who

ever hear of a story told only One time?

 

Therefore, Dear, you message given is not understood.

 

I took note of the link and saw many

wonderful stories in another location

of which i will copy to yet another

location. So thank you.

 

If you are worried about a post that

is applied to different domains-then

you are in the wrong place to find

fault as many of the posts are

presented this way.

 

For me, it is wonderful for then i

can check the many articles of

which there was not prior knowledge.

There are literally thousands of posts

here of some merit and it is nice when

we have a guiding post!

 

However, i do think that hiding being

'guest' names is more similar to

spamming-the product in this

case being as fear!

 

The first gate, i dare say!

 

Om shanti

 

[Guest guest]

am I hiding?

 

/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif

[Guest guest]

that was me Bhaktajoy /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif

Hope all is well with everyone here.

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

 

"I have no desire for wealth

or name or fame or enjoyments,

they are dust unto me....

 

I want to help my brethren.

 

I have not the 'tact to earn money',

bless the Lord....

 

What reason is there for me to conform

to the vagaries of the world around me

and not obey the voice of Truth within?

 

The mind is still weak;

 

it sometimes mechanically clutches at

earthly help....But I am not afraid....

Fear is the greatest sin, my religion teaches..."

 

-Swami Vivekananda

 

Om Shanti

 

[adreamgodus]

Om Shanti

 

There is a beautiful story related

to the life of Sage Vyasa and his

disciple Jainini.

 

Jainini was a great scholar and a

sincere disciple of Vyasa, but he

took pride in his own intellectual

knowledge.

 

One day Vyasa was dictating on a

scripture and Jainini was taking

notes. Vyasa composed a verse

making the point,

 

valavad indriya gramam panditan apakarshanti—

"the senses are so powerful that the man

of knowledge also sometimes commits mistakes."

 

Upon hearing this, Jainini thought,

 

"It is not possible. If a person is a man

of knowledge,how can he be overpowered

with the temptation of the senses?

Rather, he will overcome them."

 

With this thought, he modified the verse

to say,

 

valavad indriya gramam panditan-apakarshanti—

 

"Even if the senses are powerful, the man

of knowledge is free from mistakes."

 

Omniscient Vyasa did not impart anything.

He wanted to teach his disciple in a different way the truth of life.

 

That afternoon, Vyasa told Jainini that

he must go for some urgent work to a

distant place and it might happen that

he would be absent for several days.

 

He entrusted Jainini to take care of

the sacrificial fire. Then Vyasa left.

 

That evening after prayer, Jainini

retired to the room of the sacrificial

fire to meditate.

 

There was a storm and rain outside and

very strong wind. Jainini heard someone knocking at the door. He opened the door

and saw a pretty, young lady. He inquired what he could do for her.

 

She said, "I am on the way to my village, but because of the rain and storm I

cannot go. Can you please give me shelter for the night?"

 

Jainini, out of hospitality allowed her to come inside and spend the night in the

cottage.

 

The young lady said that it was not good

for a brahmachari (celibate) to be in the same room at night. So, Jainini went out

and tried to sleep outside.

 

Now, the play of delusion started.

Jainini sat silently, but his mind was running toward this youthful lady and

her beauty.

 

He thought to himself, "it would be good

to spend the lonely night conversing with her. So he knocked on the door and told

her that it was cold outside and it would

be nice to be inside.

 

She protested, but Jaimini forced his way inside. He tried to talk with her and was constantly looking at her, which she did

not like.

 

Slowly his senses were growing powerful and clouding his conscience. He went close to

her and touched her and told her to be together for a while, for fun and pleasure.

 

She said, "You are a brahmachari, you

should not think like this. It is not good." Being blinded with passion, he touched her feet and asked for her approval.

 

She at last agreed with the condition that he should kneel down like a horse and she would sit on his back and he should make seven rounds, near the sacrificial fire. Then he could have her.

 

Jaimini agreed.

 

While Jaimini was trying to walk like

an animal with the lady sitting on his

back, she started murmuring the verse

that Vyasa dictating in the morning which

Jaimini had modified, "Even if the senses

are powerful,a man of knowledge does not commit mistake."

 

When Jaimini heard this, he realized his

own weakness. He stood up to leave her,

but her two big arms clasped him and held him.

 

They were not the tempting arms of

the maiden, but the arms of his

loving guru Vyasa.

 

Thus Vyasa taught his disciple the

truth of life and how to be always

careful and watchful in every step of

life.

 

from:

humaneliberation@

sheryogi@

Om Shanti