Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust by V S Khandekar Read Free Book Online

Brihaspati, the tutor of the gods. He looked my age or maybe a year or two more! I was surprised that a selfless great rishi like Angiras should make one so young the leading priest. Love is no doubt blind, be it of mother for child or of preceptor for disciple.
    Kacha was also surprised when I was introduced. My mother had impressed on me the need to be humble at the hermitage. I had removed my royal attire and must have seemed an ordinary soldier to him. Just that evening we had had a clash of views in the forest.
    ‘One must be truthful but in adhering to the truth, one must put it in agreeable words. This teaching of my tutor I have not yet imbibed. Please do not take offence. It is uncertain how and when one’s mind gets out of control like the horse. Please forgive me,’ he said.
    We two were given separate huts at one end of the settlement. ‘Prince, we are neighbours now,’ said Kacha smilingly. ‘Kachadeva, have you heard of the proverb ... there is no worse enemy than the neighbour,’ I replied in jest.
    ‘There is a half truth in every proverb,’ he said with a smile.
    Maybe because of my duty in regard to the sacrifice for peace or maybe because Maharishi Angiras kept flattering me with the words: ‘The demons know that you are here and dare not interfere with the sacrifice.’ Maybe the friendship of the learned philosopher Kacha did it, but the ache in my body was dissolved in some other happiness, like the drone of the insects of the forest in the chanting of hymns.
    As the leading priest of the sacrifice Kacha lived on water alone for the day. As the principal guardian of the sacrifice, I should have done the same. But Maharishi Angiras chose six of my bodyguards and between the seven of us we had to live on water only one day each. That one day in the week was very difficult for me. Hunger gnawed at my insides and made me restless. It was not that, when out hunting or escorting the victory horse, I kept regular mealtimes: but then the mind was absorbed in something else. Hunger was not noticed. I was all admiration for Kacha on fasting days: I wondered how he had acquired the power to fast cheerfully all seven days of the week, when I found it so difficult to go through it only one day. I never found an answer. I would console myself thus:
    I lead the life of a warrior. The body is my mainstay. I was taught to cultivate it, to make it strong and well nurtured. That is why I cannot prevail over hunger. Kacha is different. An ascetic may have thin limbs like dry brushwood. But the limbs of a warrior must be like steel. There is no derogation then, even if I cannot prevail over hunger like Kacha. Would Kacha be able to escort the victory horse through Aryavarta? His body is lustrous by virtue of his penance and beautiful because of his youth. But, for his life he would not have been able to sling a bow and arrow.
    When the principal part of the sacrifice was over without a hitch there was a three day celebration. Kacha participated actively like a child. He had an ear for music and could swim as if he had been a fish in an earlier birth. Once while a lyric was being sung, a child started to cry. Even his mother was unable to soothe him. Kacha picked him up and went outside to pick some berries strewn on the ground. He ate a couple of them and put his tongue, now tinged a rich purple from the berries, out to the child. The child was amused and smiled. It was as well that I knew that this childish Kacha and that other who chanted the religious hymns with sonorous clarity were the same. Otherwise I would probably never have believed in two such divergent personalities. Did I say two personalities? No. Kacha was a many-sided personality. I was baffled by every new appearance of it. Once a lovely sweet fruit had a worm in it. He turned to me and said, ‘Prince, life is such. It is sweet and beautiful but no one knows how and when it will be infected.’ He paused in deep thought and recited a verse which