Rajiv

Once there was a little Jackal”

The Gathering: ‘The Impossibility of a Dialogue’

“We live through troubling times” said Bholu the ghoda, “The world as we know today as ours will disappear from the face of this planet.  Today our little island formally known as Jambudwipa is surrounded by an ever growing understanding that pretends to know better than what we always knew to be good for us. They seek to change and transform us for our own good and for the sake of our own soul, for they worry too much about the terrible fates that await us and they think in their broad wisdom that the only way we can save our misguided selves is by letting them work over it. Today we have come to doubt the very word ‘Self’. So I would invite our esteemed friend and guide the Jackal to come over here and speak to us about matters relating to our Self and what possibilities open us to a state of dialogue with forces that seek to change it with the pretence of saving us from our-own-dark-and-lost-selves.”

The Jackal walked quietly to the centre of the canvas. The fire was burning bright, the sky above was blue and the stars lit the heaven ever more brightly. From a distance a flickering orange hue appeared to drape the trees as the flicker of fire outlined all who sat in its circle eager to hear what the little silly Jackal had to say.
Bhalu the bear was there too, infact he had seated himself in the front row where the grass was green and silky.

The jackal walked to the centre and looked around staring blankly into the darkness that filled the air. His sides were lit golden. He began with a slow and deliberate voice.

“Friends” he said, “This is a strange topic and I am expected to speak something enlightening, but as I stand here in front of my own country men, my mind is soaked with doubts and dilemmas. For quite some nights, I have spied on his whereabouts and have even caught him a few times wandering into the dark and unknown worlds and particularly that forbidden and forgotten loka known to us as the “The Impossible”. You may wonder as I do, that if this ’speech’ about whose nature I stand here ready to speak happens to be ‘the impossible’, then why accept this invitation and pretend to have a dialogue with my fellow men. You have guessed it right my friends that I indulge, inspite of the fact that I have no reason for such indulgence, except if it means that I derive some sort of subtle pleasure from my lenience, which as you may have guessed only happens in cases of extreme pervertedness. But this ‘impossibility’ of which I am about to speak, is like the morning darkness, the darkness that moves revealing in its bosom a golden spark, if not a golden dawn. Mind it, it is different from the golden light of silence about whose realm I spoke so enthusiastically just a few months back, the guiding light, the speech of all speech, the eye of eyes that could be glimpsed and gestured only through a poetic and meditative eloquence. But I have to admit that this problem of Dialogue too is spirit like, and cannot be spoken in any literal and direct way. And still, I say it is spirit like and not something demonic.

Gentlemen, today I no longer can pretend that I know of a way or have a universal recipe that I can tear a page from my cookbook and hand it over to you; Rather I find myself completely at odds at the impossibility of such a task, especially about these strange things about whose nature I am today asked to articulate and convey to a mass audience by our esteemed friend Bholu the ghoda. Thus I will not waste your time any further, but will get over quickly of this ‘pretense of knowing’; because that is all one can talk and speak, nothing more and nothing less.”

“Forgive me” the jackal cleared his throat; “Reality that we know and are so familiar with is in-itself often quite painful and harsh, but nevertheless you will all agree with me that there is nothing solid to gain by denying facts, but then the question begs as to ‘what are facts’! Or for that matter ‘reality’!”

“On the other hand,” the jackal continued; “there are no overwhelming advantages in seeing “HOW THINGS ARE” nor in endless musings as to “how things really should be”.  So I often end up asking myself these questions, that is; Is there a way, a way free from all inherent self-pretence, free from all self deceptions, an open house, an open-space where a culture for the sake of its religious and political prejudices can enter into a fruitful dialogue with itself, free from its compulsive loyalties, allegiances and commitments.”

The Jackal paused, looked around and a hundred faces flickered back at him soaked with a golden hue.“I am pained” he gestured “pained by the thought of the impossible, saddened by the impossibility of it all. I become aware of the dark and forbidden in us, and you will agree with me my friends that sometimes becoming acutely aware of how-things-really-are hangs like a curse on your head, and there are no spells under heaven that can free you from this understanding that hides in its palms the seeds of your doom. Now you may be wondering as to what nonsense I am babbling about. What has all this gibberish got to do with the problems of communication. But that’s not what troubles me, and I can only speak about what troubles me. What troubles me is this pressing question, that, how is one to get away from this mental disease, this self-awareness that there are no hidden paths that lead us from within the system that we happen to find ourselves in, that is our world, or for that matter call it our primordial ‘Self-orienting-fields’. An area of awareness from where one can look into one’s own inherent self-deceptions and their high minded distortions, and upon that this darning awareness that all dialogue are on all levels always shot through and through with one’s own innermost biases and let me add, our prejudices. Why else will one defend or take a stance on things that matter to us in the first place, or even think of entering a dialogue with someone. Think about it!

Now aside and apart from all the misty smoke screen of goodness and all the rhetoric’s of charm and their hidden lies through which all such dialogues are found to proceed in and through a breathtaking series of self-evasive maneuvers…plots…schemes. Now I may sound naive, but then why pretend that there is something more to it.

I also wonder and there is this growing awareness within me as to why one even bothers to enter this self distorting space in the first place, naturally when I use such words such as ‘this self distorting space’, it may seem that I assume to-much and that I pretend to secretly know some lost Shambhala, a kind of original and pure region, a hidden dwelling, a carved space uncorrupted and undefiled by human cunning, a utopian world order totally free of human distortions and limits, but that’s besides the point, the point is why even think of entering here, why bother, why spend sleepless nights worrying about it. And for that matter with what purpose other-than to change someone’s mind about oneself, and worrying to death as to what it thinks about us, Its Image of us as some one fallen and misguided. Is it not enough to know that all madness arises in trying to be what one is not.

So why bother to enter this self distorting space in the first place. Will the knowing of the mandalic ins and outs of its missionary zeal, that sacred mark of the forces that today surround us and especially those that seek to change us, transform us into their own self-righteous image which like the touch of Midas that automatically transformed everything it touched into what it thought and understood as pure gold, that is into his own obsessive monolithic self image to a point where everything looked the same, felt the same, thought the same. Now suppose that by some strange and magical chance this mythical Midas happens to approach you, would you run away in fear of becoming something OTHER, something gold like, something which is nothing else otherthan an imagined product of his bewitched mind, would you fight it, kill it, or try to convince it through dialogue and persuasions. How I ask will you conduct yourself when faced with such a strange and uncanny situation.

Nevertheless one can safely conclude that more than ‘difference’, it is fear itself that is something to be feared and get over with. The touch of Midas after all only affects his own cursed perception of things.

Now speaking about fear, dread, difference and discontinuity, I can think of several reasons as to why things are such and so, and one such reason I can honk out loud to all of you who are assembled here is that all “self” identities, be it whatever, are always and everywhere found to get its mark only from in and within ‘that’ hidden but ever present hand and its perception enabling legs, that golden and lit womb of referential wholes, and it is here, and in relations to which, all dialogues are found to proceed through fiery frames, and frameworks of rising projections that emanate like fumes seeking and securing a way out in the open and the given.  Like Spotha, that unavailable mind which is found by the wise to be always ahead of everything, that which hurries along to arrange and order distant surroundings so that we and our things can be at home.  Nevertheless, be assured, that when aliens overwhelm us, they will inevitably order us and our environment to their taste and pleasure, because it is not the aliens as such but ‘that’ very space is what grants and delivers to them their true Self. It is ‘this’ what guides them, and mounts their thoughts with wings. It is this very mounting that marks and frames their common-sense understanding of us and things. In the same vein we can safely conclude that projections and perceptions are actions that unfold in the fitting, adjusting and slotting of things that we happen to encounter to our own pre-given understandings of how things appear to be as what they are; and this appearance, this understanding as to what a thing is, happens nowhere else other than one’s own pre-given and ever-present primordial world, an invisible world, a landscape lit and illumined by billion stars, and each star a bright sun shining over things through its pre-articulated web of evolving relations. Relations where differences are already from the outset pre-defined, otherwise they would not be seen and entered upon. A space where ‘to reason’, ‘to understand’, can only mean that ’seeing’ and ‘being’ always proceeds from that which is defining and powering its consciousness from-the-very-outset, that is, even before it decides for itself, everything is already decided for it, and this means that we can never ever be conscious of it. So much for a dialogue with it.

Now think about what I have just said, for here at last one begins to glimpse if not fully comprehend as to why ‘No Voice’ or ‘Belief’ ever wants to be subverted, cause no ‘Belief’ exists to be dissolved and all ‘Dogma’ and ‘Religion’ in its broadest sense are found to be always and everywhere inherently conservative and driven by its own innermost ‘Will’, which inevitably builds up organizations that seeks fellowship and control. This explains at least to me as to why any sort of dialogue by such an embedded being on all fronts both overt and covert are “Often” inherently colored by prejudices and why all such genuine or contrived attempts by others to express, explain or understand its being is “Often” seen by the powers that be, to be basically nothing more than a veiled subversive act. And all dialogues my friends in such situations can only be a drawing of circles, a subtle and cautious exercise in constructing divisions and borders, to fortify and explore kinks in one’s own armour and a looking around for areas of weakness in others which could then be exploited and exposed by its own pre-articulated understandings of what it thinks is a true faith and a true belief.
Further more, any change that might threaten the very meaning and therefore the very existence of that group or individual, or its Self or the organization and its power relations would tend to be rejected, perhaps subtly and tacitly or in extreme cases forcefully by entering a frenzied state of War.

Also, be mind-full that I am not proposing that dialogue is a state of war by other means, where the decisive act of judgement is procured not through a well argued reason or by the very genuineness of one’s belief but rather on the opinions of the multitude, or whichever side is able to dramatize and present its case in the most sweet, subtle and persuasive form.

You must also grant me the fact that such matters like the one we are entering into, such as debate and dialogue are in itself very risky affairs. Nevertheless, the facts as they stand today is that when one party wants to self preserve its self[identity] at the cost of its own inner dharma and the other by its imagined rights granted to it by its imagined God wants to convert the other because it has been asked by his or her lord to do so and not doing so or arguing against such a decree or voice would tantamount to blasphemy.

Nevertheless, of us to think that one can enter a dialogue from outside, that is from a self understanding that in some sense happens to be value neutral, and thus by some freak accident happens to operate from a self-understanding whose rational grounds and self actualizing world for the sake of which it stands, and takes a position and all done because it worries about it, and which by a freak of cosmic accidents as noted above happens to be over and above and outside our and the participants own innermost referential totality is my dear friends to self deceive oneself utterly.
On the other hand, to take positions from within the self articulations of competing beliefs is in one sense to commit complete spiritual Harakiri.

Meanwhile, inspite of all our good efforts, every-one is found to proceed in the only way they know and by that which guides him or her and in that which they can put his or her trust, whatever this ‘in which he puts his or her trust’ means, one thing is certain beyond an ounce of doubt, that it never ever is other than his or her own familiar ground. Having said that one can now safely assume that all dialogue in its pure as well as its corrupted form is nothing more than an exercise in a subtle reducing of everything unfamiliar to one’s own self understanding of it, and all judgements about things it pretends to concern itself with only ends when all the other competing differences are reasoned out and done away with, so that all that remains in the end is its own pure and uncorrupted cosmic monology.

So I return to the core of the problem, that is, is there a way to articulate and defend that which makes possible for difference to arise and be different in the first place. Not through dialogue I say. And having said that, I risk to say that on what rational and sacred grounds can I pretend to speak decisively over such matters of great hazard: That is about ‘us’ and what is ‘ours’. But can we even speak about these without first universalizing this ‘our’, that is universalizing and absolutizing our little ‘ours’ to ‘Man’, and make this ‘Man’ a theme of our universal concern, that is proclaim and make note of the fact that “Man’s very future today depends upon whether he can still or ever will be able to see this and deal with it without pretense, deceit and self deception”.
Because ultimately the question boils down to this, that is: Is there something call ‘Man’ independent of what defines it.
This is my dilemma and my impossibility.”

The audience was quiet, This nonsense was not what they had expected inspite of the fact that they knew the Jackal quite well. Slowly one by one they got up and left, deserting that very ground that had just a few hours back gathered them into its own. “Next week…next week” shouted Bholu the ghoda, “next week we would speak about the same” and he too disappeared into the moonlit night till his trailing shadow merged into the growing darkness.  Meanwhile the fire had started to glow softly with its white beard leaping up for the sky. The jackal too walked leisurely back to his house. On the way he was approached by Bhalu the bear who complimented him about his speech.

“The Long Walk”

“Tell me” the Bear said, “Do you really think that any sort of dialogue with our adversaries in an impossibility.
“And what do you think Mr. Bear”
“I think that having dialogues are essential because it is only through such intimate dialogues can we overcome our limitations and arrive at that which happens to be the most essential to us.”
“That is how it is Mr. Bear, or at least what appears to us on the surface of things. But more importantly, I would qualify, that dialogue is the production of reason, and reason after all is that essential condition whose possibility exist in the mingling of two opposing ideas and the people who amplify them. We often say, you are being unreasonable when that essential, that is the enabling condition is side stepped”
“Yes, true”
“And still, can we blame someone for being unreasonable if all he ends up doing is voicing his own way in all possible dealing, especially in matters relating to things and ways that happen to be for him the most important, insofar that it defines his very being and world.
“What do you mean Mr. Jackal.”
“You will agree with me Mr. Bear, that, that what moves us is what we intimately assume to be the most important to our lives, and as it is often the case, this something is nothing other than our sacred Laws, or our most cherished ways; Ways that have been our friend and like sun and moon have guided us to our fields and on nights safely led us to our home. It is in its warm society that we have learned to celebrate life and spread joy and glory in its company.
“Certainly.”
“And you will agree that they define our best interest because we feel at ease in them and to loose them would be equivalent of becoming homeless orphans in our own world.”
“True.”
“So you must grant me the fact that the ‘basic condition of reason’ and reasonableness does not hold its own ground if such be the case.”
“I am not sure!”
“Why would a person even want to enter a state of dialogue on the condition that being reasonable means giving up his world and self.  Except if he is forced to do so by circumstances beyond his control”
“So what is the enabling condition or reason for the sake of which one would enter…dialogue!”
“Fear is one such reason, and the other I can safely presume is change.”
“Yes, fear of change, and for the sake of change, but it seems to me that you mean something else by ‘change’”
“Change has two moments, one that is visible and one that is invisible.  ‘Fear of’ and ‘change for’ are related to the visible and modern man is often found oscillating between the two, but Mr. Bear, there is an invisible side, an invisible aspect to change.”
“I don’t follow, but please continue”
“Let us suppose Mr. Bear, that what we thought to be our sun and moon no longer are able to guide us to our true homes, because they no longer are in tune with the essence of our time, or it may be that we no longer fancy our homes to be as comfortable as they used to be, for example as we had experienced life and savoured the magic and mystery of festivity in our childhood days.”
“Yes…But, then, that’s why we seek out change!”
“Yes, but that hardly changes anything, or do they!.”
“I suppose they do!”
“It may seems so, but much deeper I say Mr. Bear, is the moment out of which arise all motion; So I often ask myself as to what brings us to this impasse, this feeling of being lost, what makes us feel and experience this loss, what compels it, brings about this mood of doom.  And what throws us into this frenzy of being and becoming… -What throws us my friend is this very things that I name as the ‘Essence of Time’; This momentous space from where everything flows and all relations are shaped and all destinies are found to be thrown into their various becoming. On the other hand, the visible MR. Bear, is what follows and so any change arrived from the visible changes nothing.”
“I still don’t follow your invisible’s and their essences Mr. Jackal, but the visible certainly relates to us, especially to us young ones, who will witness my honored friend, a growing internal strife and social and political meltdowns at our boarders and our in-ability to conduct and bring order in our lives and our world.”
“So you think entering a dialogue with the visible is your way out?”
“I have though about this Mr. Jackal, and to some extent I agree with much that you have said, but what worries me is how and with what shall we replace them with…If not it!”
“I hope you will excuse me for my Ignorance Mr. Bear, cause like you I too don’t have an answer to this; And, to further complicate our dialogue, I claim that I am not even proposing a solution, cause the holy or what we call the whole, is not something ones just concocts out of necessity. These things arise out of a thousand years of sacred companionship with things and worlds; The mountains, the stars, the rivers, the sky and the gifts of earth. But I am sure we can try to coax one out or atleast pretend to see into an another thousand years of becoming, a supernatural view if you may allow me to use that word, a glance into an far remote future, where our fellowship with what uproots us today finally brings about the ‘New’ and the ‘Novel’.”

“I think I already have some answers of my own, but would like you to throw some light on the higher nature of the new Laws that has been proposed by the council in the wake of dangers that today threaten us.”
“Much depends Mr. Bear, whether one is in any position to undertake such an arduous task? ”
“I see no reasons why we cannot indeed accomplish such a task, after all we have common concerns and often what worries us happens to be related.”
“All right if it be so, I will try to relate as to how a particular mode of study comes to define men and things, and whether it leads a man or for that matter any one of us to a seat of authority and if so, then, what can such an authority tell us about our homes and how we should conduct our lives, celebrate our festivals and take care of our dead.”
“I see no difficulty in conducting such a study Mr. Jackal, but do tell, by particular mode do you mean our intimate knowledge about ourselves and what matters to us the most in our daily copings.”
“That too, Mr. Bear, although I have in mind the ancient conflict that arose between the the Sankhian Asvabhisth and the Vedic Manoratha, and how their insights have led us into some of the most intriguing and fascinating ways we modern’s have come to look and study ourselves through overarching universal truths. And the strange ways we go asking interested questions about ourselves that often get the better of us in the hope of bettering our lives and the promises that promise to order our world and our future.

“So how are we to arrive at the true and the real?”
“How? Mr. Bear, I thought you already knew how, But speaking for myself, personally for me, it is also about truth as such, and I am sure no one really wants to order one’s life and get answers to one’s questions from ways that are simply Imagined. ”
“Are you saying that, that what constitutes us is no way related to our true selves.”
“I am not sure If I mean exactly that, cause it assumes too much, but then, someone has to know what he is doing.”
“So, what should he know before authority is trusted upon him, and if the past and accumulated Laws are not what guides him, then what is it that does, what speaks through him and what claims him?”
“I don’t know if there are any straight answers to that Mr. Bear, because a lot would depend on whether that which speaks through him and that which guides him and prompts him to make such claims on us indeed has some sort of universal absoluteness about it and are not merely a product of some fancy. Interesting fancy but never the less a fancy of his. Our answer also hinges upon whether a particular mode of thought can in some way tell us something about ‘us’ independent of its unquestioned assumptions.”

The Jackal paused and turned his head towards the heaven and sighed,“How can he be so sure. And how can he know that, that what he has stumbled upon happens to be universally binding, which if it be the case, then by the dint of this very insight he wins the right that once belonged to our seers who saw further than any of their peers and had truly become the eyes and ears of their times.
The Bears eyes shone with excitement “Indeed Mr. Jackal, Indeed…”
“Now” the Jackal continued, “there are several in and outs and many of these depends whether any one of them are true or are merely imagined and superimposed. If they be true then one can know something about ourselves and in some ways come to control and relate our future in a manner more worthy than simply leaving everything to chance or laws that have lost their efficacy. Modern technology in one such example that has given us great control over our human and physical nature. But this control which promises a better ordering of our lives, selves and our world hangs on the thread whether its findings are merely historical, that is relative to various histories or independent of of them.
“And what do you think of it, cause I have much faith in Modern Technology and its efficacy.”
“I have my doubts Mr. Bear, I doubt whether they can tell anything about who we are.”

They walked and as they walked they could feel the moist of dew that had started to rub their naked feet wet.
“All right, lets return to the beginning, cause I fail to follow your lead here Mr. Jackal” spoke the Bear with great earnestness. “are you saying that our Sacred laws have in reality only come about by a certain way of usage that a community of men have evolved over time, in which case they are merely cultural and historical and rarely says anything truly about ourselves any more than how a particular culture, in our case modernity came to articulate and compose things. ”
“Again you have to pardon my ignorance Mr. Bear, because the answer to that question also depends whether or not the categories which composes things as much as they compose us today are in fact universally binding, or are there as many worlds with their own immutable and irreducible laws as there are groups, cults, nations cultures and civilizations, each with their own unique maps, compasses, sights and sounds. Technology after all arises out of craftworks and commerce and the laws that they give rise to are related to propriety and not what we consider as sacred and binding.”
“And how does all this relate to what we have been discussing all along.”
“I don’t know, and I fail to realize as to what exactly are you are asking of me Mr. Bear?”
“All I am asking of you and all that I want to know is as to what is it that makes a man a lawgiver and someone who truly sees.”
“Oh ! Well then, you will agree with me Mr. Bear that if things are so relative and so diverse as I have just noted above, then there cannot be a definite answer independent of who what and where the question gets asked.

“What if we simply chose the most eloquent and the most wise among us, someone who like a good father is deeply concerned with our good, someone whose character one could clearly discern by his deeds and speeches” replied the Bear.
“He would still in my opinion have to know more than what we all know, for we often find him worthy who happens to represent our deepest interest, and in some sense embodies our deepest concerns, and already within ourselves we have such a diversity of opinion that it is almost impossible to represent them all in any sort of just manner.”
“What if we simply claim that our new Laws are divinely inspired and by the nature of that revelation its authority, that is, by the very fact that they are new revelations they are to be accepted as Laws over and above our mere opinion and thus universally binding to one and all, and by this master-stroke simply overcome the problem of origin and representation once and for all.”
“But already our Laws are claimed to be handed down to us by Gods, are’nt they, and if their previous words were eternal and binding, why would they think of changing them now, do the Gods change their minds so often?”
“The Gods don’t speak to us any more” mused the Bear, “and I doubt they did to us in the past and still the only way we can have the multitude accept the Laws is to present them as divinely inspired.”
“And if anyone dares to doubt such obvious lies, then he must be punished in the most severe fashion as to inspire fear and obedience in those who dare, or we would be back to where we started.”
“Well that danger is always there, How else?”
“Don t look at me like that Mr. Bear, I did not propose such a tyranny.”

“You were speaking of Manoratha, how does he concern us here.” The Bear tried to steer the topic away from their previous wanderings.
“The problem that confronts us as far as I can remember first surfaced some thousand years back at the time of the Sankhian Ashvabhisth.  Ashvabhisth you know was the first to notice and identify this problem of relativism even though all his work remains to this day a bold attempt to transcend it.
“Yes we call him our Father”
“But isn’t it true that even he at the very end of his life considered himself a failed man or so speaks the legend.”
“Indeed.”
“We are reminded of one called Manoratha” continued the Jackal, “who claimed to be a student of Vishvarupa the Vedic seer who the legend informs us, destroyed all the fine arguments that Ashvabhisth had labored so hard over the years and to this effect, he Ashvabhisth had publicly admitted that his Sankhyan categories did indeed lack solid grounding and thus could not be accepted by all as universally real and binding, something which he had hoped to achieve by discovering the universal laws that were independent of ones culture, upbringing and history.
“Yes, that’s how it was if the legends are to be believed”
“And” continued the Jackal, “All his life he had believed that there were universal laws behind the usual diversity of sights and sound.  And that he had some how hit upon a method of extracting the universal out of the particulars.”
“True.”
“Now in spite of Manoratha’s destruction of his universal categories, he saw no better way to wade through the warring diversity of opinions other than to arrive at the universal by calculating the best among the many laws and their various opinions by first extracting out of their noble differences, their innermost essence, and by this distillation, he had hoped to arrive at the universals by the fabled Sahkhian technique of abstraction and division…a sort of Absolutism if you excuse me.
“Please continue”

Thanks you Mr. Bear. Now it was known to Ashvabhisth, that there were many laws and each one of them were said to be divinely inspired and because of their diversity and difference, their authority over their people was never wholly above doubt and as always, there were those who had already started to challenge their authority on the assumption that how could the Divine speak in such diverse and often such conflicting tongues. And even if they were all granted their divine reach, it nevertheless made choosing and deciding, and not to mention unifying them into a common stock of code, that which could be universally binding almost an impossibility.
“True, there were many proposals to abandon them all, and simply derive our laws based on human nature and their necessities”
“And still he is said to have believed that his newly found universals were indeed true and could not be directly challenged by anyone because they included the best of everyone and because of its diverse singularity, they belonged and still did not belong to any one of them in particular. And if the best could not be arrived at, then at least one could warm oneself on the second best, that in-spite of its abstractions, did claim to do justice to all the waring voices, by preserving in their formulations the best of everyone.”
“Yes” nodded the Bear, “It does seems so”
“On the other hand” chimed the Jackal, “’Manoratha’, the legend informs us had said that what Ashvabhisth had actually accomplished was but a dense mist which once entered there would be no hope of coming out. A democracy of illusions.”
“But Manoratha was wrong I suppose.”
“I don’t know Mr. Bear, for legend tells us that he knew of a secret way, which according to him the Seers fearing common abuse hid their sacred insights within the obvious and the commonly understood and thus there was no logical way they could have showed up in the absurd reductions of Ashvabhisth.”

The Bear was silent, and as they walked, they could hear the cracking of the crickets and in the heat of their talks they did not realize at least till then that a soft and cool breeze had started to blow over their perspiring bodies.
“So”, the Bear broke in “This beings us back to where we were before we started on this long walk. I wonder as to where all this would lead us into?”
“I don’t know Mr. Bear, why don’t you come over and have some fish at my place.”
“Sure…”

The Bhalu and the Bear

In slow measured steps the Bear walked noddingly towards him and said: “You are right about the Self being co-extensive Mr. Jackal, you see, generally it seems that when people start meeting in groups, after a while, this group may develop a brain of its own, it starts behaving and reacting almost like a pack of animal, like them, the group may feel threatened and start preempting, which means that every member becomes defensive and reacts typically, that is, feels anxiety and pain, which develops into a pattern of fear, and all these factors, for example fear and tension then start seeping and shaping his life, this forging, you must admit is almost paranormal; almost supernatural. And then the group Mr. Jackal might also start seeing the same vision, the same commonly shared units of symbols start showing up in their dreams, and if you pardon me, they appear no different than the visions of your saints. So I am now certain, that all these conditionings in some mysterious and insidious way go very deep, very very deep Mr. Jackal.”

“How deep?” asked the Jackal “Like controlling the distinct styles seen in music, art and architecture!”
“Much Deeper than that Mr. Jackal. So deep does it go that our body and brain starts translating everything around according to this ‘depth’“. The Jackal looked stirringly “’Depth’ Mr. Bear!!!” “Yes Depth Mr. Jackal. Let me explain. As you know how language affects our emotions, and just like language, this depth opens and affects our endocrine nervous system. So deep does this depth go sir, that it fills us, saturates us, knits and weaves us into various shapes. It does this by becoming our invisible skins connecting our body to our mind, and so” the Bear continued, “I have found Mr. Jackal, that what we hear and what we do, that is all our responses are from that moment onwards found to be in a state of scramble towards securing our being from all sort of imagined abuse, and in doing so it often over does and so ends up responding either violently or diplomatically, and all this Mr. Jackal, to some extent shapes our future.”
“You mean getting a maximum grip on things.’
‘”I mean the depth Mr. Jackal.”

The Jackal was amused and hooked, he now wanted to know more about this strange idea that our Bear had worked out so well, and so full of curiosity he asked the Bear: “So, the real thing is, can one simply opt out and be free as a bird?”
“Yes” snapped the Bear pointing to his head, “This is exactly what intrigues me about this new brain; this phenomena has been central to all my thinking; that is to know whether this new brain will live a shared and meaningful life and at the same time end up doing the same things, that is taking recourse to the same calculative cunning maneuvers that always ends in some form of violence.”
“Or” interrupted the Jackal, “ends in practicing the dubious art of diplomacy which only spews more resentments, and thus ends up pushing this manifest violence to some future state, in some future time, that is, in some convoluted manner helps only to perpetuate the very thing it sought to end in the first place.”
“Brilliant” exulted the Bear. “I always wonder, should it then escape into all this religious, the magical and mystical and also the neo scientific nonsense, like the Big Bang, the Collective Unconscious. Evolutionism etc”
“What do you think Mr. Bear”
One withdraws” Beamed the Bear.
“Withdraws where?”, asked the Jackal surprised.
“From these very things that I have noted. So what do you think?”

There was no answer, rather one sensed the growth of total silence between the two, and it was not some sort of mute and dumb silence, but rather it seemed to have a voice, and its voice was not something static but to the contrary, it seemed to spread and penetrate all its neighbors by ingesting even the woods and the rocks with ears. So long and empty was this meditative silence that one could almost hear the crow cawing several miles away and if a cloud or the heaven above could whisper, one would almost hear it.
The Jackal kept staring at the star lit heaven, one felt almost as if he was trying to penetrate the very veil of the universe, to rend it asunder, to make it speak.
After a while he spoke.
“So have you found an answer Mr. Bear?” .
“No” replied the Bear. “I only know but cannot as of yet clearly see and so articulate as to what this new brain would be like”.
“But isn’t knowing also seeing!” asked the Jackal
“Yes”
“So what do you intend to do, as I am sure that it is not simply going to fall from the sky into your lap.
“I know”
“If so then why bother?”
“Some how!” said the Bear puzzled, “I am always driven to do something, to think about it, to bring this knowing to the world.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question”
“about what”
“You proposed that one withdraws and I had asked as to one ‘Withdraws where?’”
The Bear was silent as if lost in some deep thought.
“One cannot arrive at these answers by simply thinking about them, nevertheless, could it also be” continued the Jackal, “that you have not touched the rock bottom yet,” and then pointing to his heart said “In matters related to heart, and music there are ways and routes that remains invisible to your otherwise sharp eyes.”
“Perhaps” said the Bear, “Love for ones fellow men, to gather and build a community of like minded individuals…one of these days I may perhaps hit the rock bottom and know where the spade turns.”
“Then perhaps” exclaimed the Jackal slyly nudging the Bear ”Perhaps there is no Rock Bottom and thus one is finally released from this, this deep Delirium.
“are you trying to say, that I too am delirious? Mr. Jackal”
“In your ‘deep’ sense, aren’t we all Mr. Bear, Come now, have some fish with me.”

The Bhalu’s Apprenticehood

After they had finished the fish curry to its last drop they went outside and sat on the charpai that the Jackal had lowered on all four legs. Having stretched themselves they stared at the beautiful blue above that blinked and smiled back at them with a thousands twinkling eyes.
“I still don’t understand what you said today “mummered the Bear, “especially at the end, it was something about ‘the impossibility of a dialogue’”
“Oh, ignore what I said there” replied the Jackal, “I am more intrigued by your withdrawing away into some, some where”
“Still…! I would like to know about it” pleaded the Bear, “I don’t think I fully understood, or for that matter understood any of it, so if its not too much to ask…please”
“I wont repeat what I have said already,” The Jackal sighed, “but let me tell you a story Mr. Bear, a story about a famous Bear, and hope that at the end of it I finally would have conveyed something of its essence to you and then I hope you would in your turn throw some light into your ‘It Withdraws’ into somewhere” statement.
“If it answers my questions, then please I would love to hear the story.”
“Very well” smiled the Jackal and continued, “The story my dearest Bear is called “The Bhalu’s Apprenticehood” or simply, “A battle against Sleep”

“Long long time ago. In the ancient land on the foot hills of the great Himalayas, there lived an ancient tribe of Bhalus. and in this lively and adventurous tribe, there flourished a family of Bhalus who were known by their patronymic Vyeth. The youngest among the Vyeth’s was a very successful and intelligent mechanic. He had various names, Chotu, motu, Billu, ballu, balmu so on and so forth. We shall nevertheless for the sake of brevity call him simply: ‘the bear’.

Now, let me clear one thing right away. One: that he was a very good mechanic and often I am told that he could instantly tell you the exact problem plaguing your car by simply watching the gait of its walk, as you drove it in to him. However, I have also been informed by some secret and very reliable source, that mechanic-giri was not his true love, his true calling lay elsewhere, his heart like the evil magicians parrot lay in other things. And even though he could not visualize in clear terms what his true calling was, nevertheless, in spite of his success as a mechanic, his life kept wandering into the strange and the mysterious from time to time.

In nights, he would find himself digesting such popular books, such as the “The Sorcerer and the Night of the Tiger”, “The Adventures of a reluctant Yogi”, “The Chudail of Banglapur”, “The Ghost ”, and “Dr. Fu Man Chu and the Monsters of the Deep Blue Sea”. Spoilt as he was with these tales of magic and power, in time his heart had secretly started to desire the magical source by whose power and alchemical potency, he could magically transform himself into a world hero, a great magician of mighty deeds. And if this was not enough, he would loose himself imagining that he was the craftiest of all, the greatest of them all, a great Rishi, a supreme master of the tantra, mantra vidya, who by his mastery of the three worlds even had the tricksy Maya running for his life.
Though he had no idea as to why he wanted to become any one of them, regardless, the fact remains that he did in fact desire all this from the very bowls of his young and nervous guts. And from the bilious dark depth of his warm and childish heart, he genuinely desired to understand and master the deep hidden secrets of the visible and the invisible worlds.

Somewhere deep down the depths of his tremulous heart, it can be concluded without the risk of sounding ridiculous that he wanted to become a powerful being; someone more powerful than his father, his brothers, the head of his tribe, so on and so forth. Often he would in his natural innocence approach a Tantric or an Ojha, to learn the ways by which the great beings from ancient times had learned to negotiate and master the holy force, a sort of secret source of power which gave humans superhuman capabilities. He never doubted their existence, after all, for him, it was a well documented fact written and reported time and again in all the magical and mystical tales of power. Tales that had now gone into his head and in effect he had sincerely started to believe that Shamans are the true guardians of such power. And once this belief had its nail housed in him, our little bear would from thereon be on a vigilant lookout for some secret signs or omens that he believed would guide him to the destined one. And in anticipation of that great moment, he had started to pray night and day to Maha-Dev, the Great God, and it would not be long before his prayers would come true.

As luck would have it, an old Shaman was reported to have been seen by the townsmen. There were rumors that he had put up a temporary abode just on the outskirts of the town, where the polished and refined meets the jungle.

Having heard about the Shaman his heart began the same troubled dance and he found himself cycling through the crooked streets that led through its knotted pathways straight towards the outskirts of the city.
On the way towards the holy baba, he asked passers-by about him, and as the deeds of the Shaman had already become a topic of hot gossip in the town, almost everyone he asked immediately pointed towards the four huge mysterious rocks that lay on the outskirt of the town, where the town meets the jungle.

Having reached the mysterious rocks, he at last saw the Shaman who was by the way busy filling his bag with all sorts of goodies that the ladies had brought for him. In exchange he would read their palms and predict their future and even gladden their hearts by letting them know in advance the riches that await their sons and husbands in the coming years.The bear waited till the ladies had left, then with folded hands he approached the old Shaman and immediately begged him to guide him into the mysterious of all the mysterious art, the very essence of Shamanism.

“ Ho ha, kya ray baba, where comes the barsaati frog. What think you hairy one that this is a game of dice that I can teach in five minutes. This art my boy requires diligent practice of thousand years and even that is not enough to understand the rough outlines of its power -do you understand.”
“I am ready to spend my whole life” begged the bear.
Arre Baba, stop troubling me, shoo, go back home, enjoy life, have fun. If you want any mantar jantar, a charm to catch your towns’ slim waisted beauties, then sit down here and I will spin for you a magical amulet, otherwise go home, don’t waste my time.

There were tears, rejections, requests and re-requests and after many pleadings, the Shaman, who was by now tired and fed up asked him to create a circle exactly 4 steps left to where he was standing. And after he had drawn the circle, sit in it cross-legged with his back straight and his hands on his lap, fingers circled in the famous mystical mudra symbolizing Om.
He then scrutinized his posture and asked him to take a deep breath and blow in and out rapid puffs muttering HOW HOW.
After the bear had puffed HOW HOW with his face turn red failing to catch the pun in HOW HOW, he asked him in a polite voice. “Baba bear! Have you asked your parents about your crazy desire to enter this lonely and loony path of Self Mastery.”
” I am 22″ replied the bear confidently, “and as a grown man I need no ones permission, Holy Master.”
“It may be so grown man, but still, you surely must be married, so have you discussed this with your wife and kids.”
“How can I have kids when I am not even married Holy Master?”
“Very well, very well, as you are of age, I shall take you under my custody, after all I am an old and ageing man and need someone to look after me; everyone needs a donkey what do you say! so, I have decided to take you under my arms but on one condition.”
“What condition master?”
“Wait, not so fast Baba bear. I am not your master yet, any way, come tomorrow morning, be early and bring along with you a duly signed note from your papa and mamma and counter signed by the head of your tribe stating that they have no problems with your decision to tread on the sacred path. You see, I don’t want any trouble -do you understand.”
“Yes master, It will be done master” said the bear. He then touched his muddy feet and quickly rushed back before any one could suspect what he was up to. Cycling like a mast bull who has sighted his mate he spent the whole night swooning in and out of deep delight.

Next morning he was there with the letter which surprised the Shaman “Aha you back already, you crazy bhalu, come show me the letter…Yes, you have even got one, you silly fellow.” He scrutinized the paper “Is it genuine or fake?”
“Genuine master” he replied innocently, though it was clearly forged as the bear had not informed any one about it. Nevertheless with that noble lie, a long and fruitful apprentice-hood began and the bear as far as I know served his master diligently day after day, month after month.

And after a long and I stress, a very long apprentice-hood into the mysterious world of Shamanism, finally the day arrived for the holy transmission of the secret of secrets, the hola bola of concealed wisdom that lay coiled and hidden inside all the Tantras’. the key to all and everything.

The Shaman approached his furry little creature who had by the way taken good care of him and who over the years had grown thin and lean and his once famous silky black and brown coat had meanwhile turned rough, dirty and gray. In these 10 years, the Shaman himself had witnessed profound and far reaching changes seep, soak, transform and transmutate the deepest and the darkest regions of his soul. Now old and fragile, he for the first time called out for the Bhalu by his patronymic Vyeth, and having seated him in front, spoke to him in a voice that sounded more like the loving voice of his forgotten mother. “My dear Son” he said , “I” he stuttered “I don’t even remember my real name, any way dear Bhalu, if the occasion serves us right, let me recall that I have over the years taught you all the known and unknown arts of magic; from the marvelous art of sammohan, to the secret art of staying awake in sleep. In early days I even taught you how to charm things, to pursue their drifts as they fragment, break and transform their appearance and shape, and how in the process of doing so, switch, shift and change their very essence now locked under the focused gaze of your altered perception, and how you could then weld these fragments and play with them just like the way a child goes about playing all sort of games with his pocket full of little pebbles in the courtyard of his house.

Do you remember, how, by using rhythmic chanting, followed by carefully controlled and orchestrated dance mudras, infused with percussive drumming dagada bagada, bagada, dagada, you were able to snap men and women into different poles of consciousness.
In subsequent years, I even taught you complex and powerful tricks such as casting suggestions inside the body of other men by staging delicately crafted mimed dramas; with each act timed and cloaked in secret rites that despite their rational wills engage them at their deepest level, because deep down they are found to embody them, make and mark them, shape and fashion their intelligence, and are found flourishing in the deepest recesses of their beliefs. I have also if you remember taught you how to make a person loose his momentary awareness by stimulating the occult side of his ojas. The side from where arises his dark and swaying belts of power, and having discovered its hidden vectors that like a flutist winds and jigs it, I showed you how you could rig it to his evolutionary advantage or disadvantage by stabilizing or destabilizing its integral wholeness.
“Yes you did master”

Do you remember how you enjoyed pressing the soma-rasa by grinding mystic speech out of your teeth.
And at other times, how you enjoyed placing various dhvanic suggestions through culturally coded and traditionally accessible language into the souls of men and women by first studying the astonishing and surprising effects the given signs and symbols have on them. And how once you have selectively marked your perspective creature out from the herd, you were then able to make him do various things against his or her conscious will.”
“Yes, I do master”

“And while still engaged in the tamsic sammohanic regressive foreplay brought about by repetitive chants now beaded and weaved into the mysterious fabric that operates through the hidden and veiled suggestive powers found in the Bhoota and Pisachsa Maha Tantra’s, your various centers of awareness were aroused and energized and then through the magical potions made from glorious herbs you visited various places and lokas, talked to strange beings and entities in those lokas, and not just talk and see but also trick them into barking out their most obscure and hidden secrets and the inscrutable anecdotes that they are found to hold in their dark and mysterious webs of powers; webs that inevitably affect our and their fate.
I have over time even taught you the deadliest of all tricks by which you could enter the souls of dead Shamans and steal from them lethal charms and potent mantras.. Haven’t I”
“Yes Master”
” Having powers over others, this is what all this amounts to” said the Shaman in a quick and heavy tone, “There is nothing more to it -Absolutely nothing. Do you understand this?”
“Yes Master”
“Did you understand what I just said?”
“Yes Master”

Then the Shaman said “Look son, listen carefully to what I have to say. I once told you in jest that everything is filled with language. When you walk through the jungle, wade your way through town and hills, it is like walking through the folds of Vak. Vak informs you, it impresses you, it grants you sight and sound. So when I spoke to you that everything what is, is because it shines in Vak. When I said this, I was not joking, one cannot joke in these matters, because every speech that speaks holds within it its mystery. So pay heed for what I am now going to divulge to you, for what holds this speech is the very un-bounding heart of Satya. And whose essence is nothing other than the undeniable existence of your own Self.

The world my lad is held in its grip by Vak, and Vak in thrall of Satya. That is why you were able to plant dreams through various suggestions, manipulate their emotions like a Swami or a good cinematic director. So remember, and pay close attention to what I am now going to render out to you.”
He waved his hands at the world, and spoke with great warmth. “All this” he said pointing to things around “ all this, my boy, including what you see and hear and in this seeing and hearing that which is read in, comprehended, grasped, realized, including, all that you have learned so far my boy, all that is but a mere house of words, a product of thought, an evacuation of a delirious minds, a vomit of Bhoots, and nothing more.”

“When I hear someone speak” continued the Shaman, “all I hear are the words of Ghosts. Nothing what a person says, thinks or feels belongs to him. Man after all my dear, is a creature wholly possessed; a creature haunted and sick, and such is his nature that like an innocent child of two he always ends up taking the word for a thing. On the other hand, he could as easily be satisfied like the 8 month old Krishna, when Yashoda showed him the moon reflected on the silvery plate filled with water and as he touched it, it rippled, deformed and the moon broke into thousands of fragments.”

“Man” he said “is at one hand as innocent as Krishna, and on the other as deluded as Kansa. When he speaks about something, it is not he but the Bhoot’s in him who in fact do all the speaking. The whole mankind my son, is possessed by this madness. But as a Shaman you are privileged by the order of your works to indulge in all this, but remember, this is not your real calling.”

“What then is my real calling?” asked the bear.”
“Your real calling is to learn from now on to ’see’ as the universe sees, and ‘live’ as the universe lives, to face your ever present existence without anything informing you about yourself in advance. You have to see, feel, hear, think by that which sees in all seeing and hears in all hearing, that which feels in all feeling, thinks in all thinking. Because my son, without this: this feeling would not be felt, without this: in seeing one would not see anything, without this: in hearing one would not hear anything, because it sees by it, feels by it, hears by it.”

“Through its arrival the senses arrive, through its withdrawal the senses withdraw. In all its coming and going, it is ‘it’ that is forever found shining in all its thread. Just like heaven shines as the empty space, as the open area which makes way, and by making way grants the cloud its existential possibility, a space, a place to appear and dwell. So to ‘it’ forever remains hidden as the background possibility which grounds all experience, and still in all our experience it itself is never experienced as such. So from now on my son, work meditatively to break this dependency of your body, mind and soul to rely on the fore-structures, to rely on the background intelligence and its referential totality that soaks and claims us, and having claimed us, projects its subtle and hidden webs of power out of which go marching all the concepts and ideas fanning out, forever speeding ahead of you. Spreading like the rays of the Sun and like it rendering things visible, accessible, reachable and thus from the very outset reading everything that needs to be read, known, thought, felt, realized and understood by you.”

“The seer needs to become the seen, its vectors watched and followed. If you observe the observer, it will become clear to you, how the observer itself is a set of controls and how it invariably is controlled by the senile regime of words and concepts. ‘You’, just like the deluded son of men are a creature ignited in advance by ideas and thoughts, now watch closely how these inevitably command and contain you and in containing you they ultimately shape your emotions and fashion your destiny.

“With impeccable watchfulness you need to pay close attention to the arising and engulfing of your emotions and how their arrival and departure cause you to experience the torments, sparked by the flare of fear that keeps tumbling into the burning filaments of hate, and how all this inevitably casts your likes and dislikes, and how once cast, they insidiously order and frame your whereabouts and before you even realize, they have already from the outset chosen everything in advance, leaving behind only an impression of a freechoice, and an illusion of “swatantra Iccha”.

“So pay close attention to this “what”, for this ‘what’ of “Kya hai ye” is the samagri through which you makes sense of things in the world. What ever shows up, shows up only through this background intelligence which grants and facilitates all showing, by making things intelligible to you and to others -well in advance.
In this game of delirium my son, you HAVE to find the thread that generates the very fabric of this ‘What’. You have to penetrate its womb and fracture the very grammar that route and knit your false selves.”

“It is so and it is such and thus it is not surprising that we often end up doing things with our lives, things we could have done without.”
“So seek from now on my son to realize its ‘movement-creating power and how you like every other creature inevitably always happen to end up building your life around these.

The bear thought for a while. He thought very deeply. Though I don’t know what thinking deeply means but it certainly seemed as though he was in some deep state of meditation, then as if he understood everything that had passed between them spoke in a low and meditative voice, “Master, tell me, which mantra should I use to let the seer be the seen?”
Vyeth Nandan! he smiled with an awful wicked grimace “you only need to observe by completely freeing your body from its dependence to operate from fore-structures -Observe just like you would normally observe a flower, a street, a mountain. Often what is closest to you remains hidden, unseen, unobserved, neglected, ignored, left out.”

Our junior Shaman was clearly troubled by these strange and new revelations, trembling from top to bottom he pleaded: “My Sir, My Master, tell me, what tools would I require to fix this observer so that I, I can…I” his voice deserted him.
“By staying awake.” he mouthed, “By staying awake my son, for after all it is all about your mythic battle with self bewitchment. Do not ever forget that the Shamans ultimate struggle is always against his Sleep.”

“What is this bewitchment master, I am all confused, my mind is restless, peace deserts me, please Master! What sort of battle am I supposed to fight, against whom, and with what weapons!” and having said, his legs caved in, his mind grew dark and heavy. He had served as an assistant for many a year, and still at this very moment, he felt he knew nothing, understood nothing, all these years of apprentice-hood had been a waste, a cruel joke that had left him with nothing to lean on, he could feel dark and enveloping emptiness crawl up his spine and having reached his center, it shot up and went straight for his head.

The bear’s head was now spinning like a Vayu’s disk. The Shaman watched fine strings of confusion swirl up from nowhere. They thickened as they rose and twirled wildly into menacing shapes, swirling and moaning like the widows of slain hero’s they rushed and sized his deliquesce body, wrapping him in their translucent fibrous thongs. He watched them pierce his field of awareness and sink their shivering tentacles deep inside his skin. Once inside they engulfed his soul with their dark and swooning winds.

There was nothing he could do, he just sat there and gazed unblinkingly into his nervous eyes, then taking a deep breath spoke to him in a soft and comforting voice, “Fear not my Vyeth”, he said “brace yourself, don’t let weakness overwhelm you, It may be confusing but I assure you that you will in the end know all about it, in time it will all become clear to you. But for present you should know that the great time is near and in few days I will be gone, gone forever, gone away so completely that I would become utterly unreachable and once I am gone you will my son, have to carry on this battle all by yourself.
We all have to in the end.”
“Wake up boy…Wake up”

There was silence all around. “Is it over” asked the Bear.
“Yes and no” replied the jackal.
“It didn’t make any sense to me, and what is this battle against sleep got to do with “The impossibility of Dilogue”
“Nothing” replied the Jackal.
The Bear shook his head in disbelief, looked at his sides then rolling his eyes said: “Anyway, thanks for the fish, I now have to take your leave. I have heard strange and funny things about you, but before I take your leave, I beg of you to tell me as to who this little bear is, this Vyeth nandan, is he me or you?
“Oh” sighed the Jackal surprised, “so you have heard some very strange and funny things about me haan, Come sit don’t go, see, the sky is still blue and the stars are shining, stay, I will warm some tea, but do tell me the things you have heard about me”
“Not now, all that later, but worry not, I will” and saying goodbye the bear hurried away into the darkness of the night.

Notes:

Charpai: A bed

Bhalu: Bear (Bhalus – Bears)

Vyeth: river Jhelum in Kashmir

chota mota pyaara: short fat plumb

Chuddail: Sorcerres/Witch

Darshan: Presence, Phenomenology

Amrika: America

Charnamrit: Holy Nectar, the accumulated liquid, often milk which is then sipped after washing the feet’s of Gods in a Temple

Rishi: Sage

Tantra, mantra, yantra, vidya: Various forms of Tantric practice as practiced in Hindu and Tibetan Buddhism.

Ojha/Tantric: Shaman, Sorcerer.

Ojas: The Substance That Maintains Life

MahaDev: Shiva

Barsaati frog: seasonal appearance (as frogs show up in monsoons)

Mudra: Yogic Gesture

Sammohan: Sort of Hypnosis

Rasa: The essence of drama

Dhvanic: The essence of Poetry

Bhoota: Past, dead, Ghost etc.

Lokas: Worlds

Vak: Primordial speech, sort of Logos
chiefly:RV 10.125, RV 10.71.1-4, RV 1.164.45

Satya: Truth

Swami: Holy man, Wise Man, Guru

Krishna: Avatara of Vishnu (The second aspect of trinity as the sustainer/maintainer of the universe, Brahma being the creator aspect and Shiva the destroyer aspect)

Yashoda: Foster mother of Krishna

Kansa: Material uncle of Krishna whom he slays.

Vyeth Nandan: Progeny of the Vyeth’s.