The Triumph

He sat there under the tree, his cheeks hot. His father's angry shouts were still ringing in his ears. He could almost sense the smarting of his cheeks, to slap which, his father had raised his hand. Yet, he did not cry. He was a determined fellow.

The sun began to go down behind the hills. Darkness enveloped the earth. The night air had a deathly eerie smell to it. A freezing cold breeze gently began to sway the branches of the trees. The frogs were croaking in the moist land near the lake. There was faint rustling of leaves, and an owl hooted weirdly in the distance.

He was thinking of death. Of what would happen to his body. His heart would stop beating. Would he sense that? Would he sense the numbness which his mind would acquire? Would he get over the unconsciousness? He realised that he would not. He would not hear his father's shouts. He would not hear his mother's lamentations. Neither the moo of the cow nor the vedic chants. Nothing...

His mind would be blank. Then his body would be consigned to flames. But he would not feel the heat. He had learnt the art of seeing through his mind, but his mind would be numb, and his eyes would be burnt. How would he see? Everything seemed to be going into oblivion.

A sudden fear crept up his spine. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead and slowly trickled down. The water in the lake seemed stagnant. He could not hear the croaking of the frogs. The leaves were not rustling anymore. He suddenly felt very hot. He could not move a muscle. He tried to shout, but he could not. He felt strangled, choked. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids would not open. They were heavy and cold...deathly cold.

He was experiencing death. His body was, probably, dead to the world, but he was alive. Deep inside, he tried to kindle back the embers of his surviving soul. With superhuman effort, he pulled himself into the cross-legged position.

Lightning split the dark sky into two. Violent thunderclaps rent the air. Heaven and Earth shook like leaves in a storm. Rain came down in all its splendour and cooled his hot body. He started his penance. This boy of 12 years had met...and conquered death.

He was Nachiketa.

Nachiketa is not a strange name to us. This young boy is a mythological hero in his own sense. His father, after performing a yajna, gave away everything he had in charity to brahmanas. Upon repeatedly asked by Nachiketa, his father gets angry and says Nachiketa has been given to Yama, the God of death. Later he regretted his decision, and that is another story.

The above is my own version of how Nachiketa might have felt, when he went in search of Yama. After rigorous meditation, Yama appears and gives him three boons. Two Nachiketa asks, keeping his father's welfare in mind, and the third, he asks Yama to reveal the secret of death - What happens to the soul after the body dies.

After much persuasion, Yama reveals them to Nachiketa and takes him to the land of Gods and Immortality.