The Killing of Baka

Those mighty car-warriors, the sons of Kunti, on arriving at Ekachakra, lived for a short time in the abode of a Brahmana. Leading an eleemosynary life, they behold in course of their wanderings various delightful forests and earthly regions, and many rivers and lakes, and they became great favourites of the inhabitants of that town in consequence of their own accomplishments. At nightfall they placed before Kunti all they gathered in their mendicant tours, and Kunti used to divide the whole amongst them, each taking what was allotted to him. Those heroic chastisers of foes, with their mother, together took one moiety of the whole, while the mighty Bhima alone took the other moiety. In this way, the illustrious Pandavas lived there for some time.

One day, while those bulls of the Bharata race were out on their tour of mendicancy, it so happened that Bhima was at home with his mother Pritha. That day, Kunti heard a loud and heart-rending wail of sorrow coming from within the apartments of the Brahmana. Hearing the inmates of the Brahmana's house wailing and indulging in piteous lamentations, Kunti, from compassion and the goodness of her heart, could not bear it with indifference. Afflicted with sorrow, the amiable Pritha, addressing Bhima, said these words full of compassion. “Our woes assuaged, we are, O son, living happily in the house of this Brahmana, respected by him and unknown to Dhritarashtra's son. O son, I always think of the good I should do to this Brahmana, like what they do that live happily in others' abodes! O child, he is a true man upon whom favours are never lost. He pays back to others more than what he receives at their hands. There is no doubt, some affliction has overtaken this Brahmana. If we could be of any help to him, we should then be requiting his services.”

Hearing these words of his mother, Bhima said, “Ascertain, O mother, the nature of the Brahmana's distress and whence also it has arisen. Learning all about it, relieve it I will however difficult may the task prove.”

While mother and son were thus talking with each other, they heard again, another wail of sorrow proceeding from the Brahmana and his wife. Then Kunti quickly entered the inner apartments of that illustrious Brahmana, like unto a cow running towards her tethered calf. She beheld the Brahmana with his wife, son and daughter, sitting with a woeful face, and she heard the Brahmana say, “Oh, fie on this earthly life which is hollow as the reed and so fruitless after all which is based on sorrow and has no freedom, and which has misery for its lot! Life is sorrow and disease; life is truly a record of misery! The soul is one: but it has to pursue virtue, wealth and pleasure. Because these are pursued at one and the same time, there frequently occurs a disagreement that is the source of much misery. Some say that salvation is the highest object of our desire. But I believe it can never be attained. The acquisition of wealth is hell; the pursuit of wealth is attended with misery; there is more misery after one has acquired it, for one loves one's possessions, and if any mishap befalls them, the possessor becomes afflicted with woe. I do not see by what means I can escape from this danger, nor how I can fly hence, with my wife to some region free from danger. Remember, O wife, that I endeavoured to migrate to some other place where we would be happy, but you did not then listen to me. Though frequently solicited by me, you, said to me, “I have been born here, and here have I grown old; this is my ancestral homestead.' Your venerable father and your mother also, have, a long time ago, ascended to heaven. Your relations also had all been dead. why then did you yet like to live here? Led by affection for your relatives you didst not then hear what I said. But the time is now come when you are to witness the death of a relative. How sad is that spectacle for me! Or perhaps the time is come for my own death, for I shall never be able to abandon cruelly one of my own as long as I myself am alive. You are my helpmate in all good deeds, self-denying and always affectionate unto me as a mother. The gods have given you to me as a true friend and you are ever my prime stay. You has, by my parents, been made the participator in my domestic concerns. You are of pure lineage and good disposition, the mother of children, devoted to me, and so innocent; having chosen and wedded you with due rites, I cannot abandon you, my wife, so constant in your vows, to save my life. How shall I myself be able to sacrifice my son a child of tender years and yet without the hirsute appendages of manhood? How shall I sacrifice my daughter whom I have begotten myself, who has been placed, as a pledge, in my hands by the Creator himself for bestowal on a husband and through whom I hope to enjoy, along with my ancestors, the regions attainable by those only that have daughters' sons? Some people think that the father's affection for a son is greater; others, that his affection for a daughter is greater, mine, however, is equal. How can I be prepared to give up the innocent daughter upon whom rest the regions of bliss obtainable by me in after life and my own lineage and perpetual happiness? If, again, I sacrifice myself and go to the other world, I should scarcely know any peace, for, indeed, it is evident that, left by me these would not be able to support life. The sacrifice of any of these would be cruel and censurable. On the other hand, if I sacrifice myself, these, without me, will certainly perish. The distress into which I have fallen is great; nor do I know the means of escape. Alas, what course shall I take today with my near ones. It is well that I should die with all these, for I can live no longer.”

On hearing these words of the Brahmana, his wife said, “You should not, O Brahmana, grieve like an ordinary man. Nor is this the time for mourning. You has learning; you know that all men are sure to die; none should grieve for that which is inevitable. Wife, son, and daughter, all these are sought for one's own self. As you are possessed of a good understanding, kill you your sorrows. I will myself go there. This indeed, is the highest and the eternal duty of a woman, viz., that by sacrificing her life she should seek the good of her husband. Such an act done by me will make you happy, and bring me fame in this world and eternal bliss hereafter. This, indeed, is the highest virtue that I tell you, and you may, by this, acquire both virtue and happiness. The object for which one desires a wife has already been achieved by you through me. I have borne you a daughter and a son and thus been freed from the debt I had owed you. You are well able to support and cherish the children, but I however, can never support and cherish them like you. You are my life, wealth, and lord; bereft of you, how shall these children of tender years--how also shall I myself, exist? Widowed and master less, with two children depending on me, how shall I, without you, keep alive the pair, myself leading an honest life? If the daughter of thine is solicited in marriage by persons dishonourable and vain and unworthy of contracting an alliance with you, how shall I be able to protect the girl? Indeed, as birds seek with avidity for meat that has been thrown away on the ground, so do men solicit a woman that has lost her husband. O best of Brahmanas, solicited by wicked men, I may waver and may not be able to continue in the path that is desired by all honest men. How shall I be able to place this sole daughter of your house--this innocent girl--in the way along which her ancestors have always walked? How shall I then be able to impart unto this child every desirable accomplishment to make him virtuous as yourself, in that season of want when I shall become master less? Overpowering myself who shall be master less, unworthy persons will demand the hand of this daughter of yours, like Sudras desiring to hear the Vedas. If I bestow not upon them this girl possessing your blood and qualities, they may even take her away by force, like crows carrying away the sacrificial butter. And beholding your son become so unlike to you, and your daughter placed under the control of some unworthy persons, I shall be despised in the world by even persons that are dishonourable, and I will certainly die. These children also, bereft of me and you, their father, will, I doubt not, perish like fish when the water dries up. There is no doubt that bereft of you the three will perish: therefore it beholds you to sacrifice me. Persons conversant with morals have said that for women that have borne children, to predecease their lords is an act of the highest merit. Ready am I to abandon this son and this daughter, these my relations, and life itself, for you. For a woman to be ever employed in doing agreeable offices to her lord is a higher duty than sacrifices, asceticism, vows, and charities of every description. The act, therefore, which I intend to perform is consonant with the highest virtue and is for your good and that of your race. The wise have declared that children and relatives and wife and all things held dear are cherished for the purpose of liberating one's self from danger and distress. One must guard one's wealth for freeing one's self from danger, and it is by his wealth that he should cherish and protect his wife. But he must protect his own self both by means of his wife and his wealth. The learned have enunciated the truth that one's wife, son, wealth, and house, are acquired with the intention of providing against accidents, foreseen or unforeseen. The wise have also said that all one's relations weighed against one's own self would not be equal unto one's self. Therefore, protect your own self by abandoning me. Give me leave to sacrifice myself, and cherish you my children. Those that are conversant with the morals have, in their treatises, said, that women should never be slaughtered and that Rakshasas are not ignorant of the rules of morality. Therefore, while it is certain that the Rakshasa will kill a man, it is doubtful whether he will kill a woman. It beholds you, therefore, being conversant with the rules of morality, to place me before the Rakshasa. I have enjoyed much happiness, have obtained much that is agreeable to me, and have also acquired great religious merit. I have also obtained from you children that are so dear to me. Therefore, it grieves not me to die. I have borne you children and have also grown old; I am ever desirous of doing good to you; remembering all these I have come to this resolution. Abandoning me you may obtain another wife. By her you may again acquire religious merit. There is no sin in this. For a man polygamy is an act of merit, but for a woman it is very sinful to betake herself to a second husband after the first. Considering all this, and remembering too that sacrifice of your own self is censurable, liberate today without loss of time your own self, your race, and these your children by abandoning me.”

Thus addressed by her, the Brahmana embraced her, and they both began to weep in silence, afflicted with grief.

On hearing these words of her afflicted parents, the daughter was filled with grief, and she addressed them, saying, “Why are you so afflicted and why do you so weep, as if you have none to look after you? O, listen to me and do what may be proper. There is little doubt that you are bound in duty to abandon me at a certain time. Sure to abandon me once, abandon me now and save every thing at the expense of me alone. Men desire to have children, thinking that children would save them (in this world as well as in the region hereafter). Cross the stream of your difficulties by means of my poor self, as if I were a raft. A child rescues his parents in this and the other regions; therefore is the child called by the learned Putra. The ancestors desire daughter's sons from me (as a special means of salvation). But (without waiting for my children) I myself will rescue them by protecting the life of my father. This my brother is of tender years, so there is little doubt that he will perish if you die now. If you, my father, die and my brother follows you, the funeral cake of the Pitris will be suspended and they will be greatly injured. Left behind by my father and brother, and by my mother also (for she will not survive her husband and son) I shall be plunged deeper and deeper in woe and ultimately perish in great distress. There can be little doubt that if you escape from this danger as also my mother and infant brother, then your race and the (ancestral) cake will be perpetuated. The son is one's own self; the wife is one's friend; the daughter, however, is the source of trouble. Do you save yourself, therefore, by removing that source of trouble, and do you thereby set me in the path of virtue. As I am a girl, O father, destitute of you, I shall be helpless and plunged in woe, and shall have to go everywhere. It is therefore that I am resolved to rescue my father's race and share the merit of that act by accomplishing this difficult task. If you go there (unto the Rakshasa), leaving me here, then I shall be very much pained. Therefore, O father, be kind to me. For our sake, for that of virtue and also your race, save yourself, abandoning me, whom at one time you shall be constrained to part from. There need be no delay, in doing that which is inevitable. What can be more painful than that, when you has ascended to heaven, we shall have to go about begging our food, like dogs, from strangers. But if you are rescued with your relations from these difficulties, I shall then live happily in the region of the celestials. It has been heard by us that if after bestowing your daughter in this way, you offer oblations to the gods and the celestials, they will certainly be propitious.”

The Brahmana and his wife, hearing these various lamentations of their daughter, became sadder than before and the three began to weep together. Their son, then, of tender years, beholding them and their daughter thus weeping together, lisped these words in a sweet tone, his eyes having dilated with delight, “Weep not, O father, nor you, O mother, nor you O sister!” And smilingly did the child approach each of them, and at last taking up a blade of grass said in glee, “With this will I slay the Rakshasa who eats human beings!” Although all of them had been plunged in woe, yet hearing what the child lisped so sweetly, joy appeared on their faces. Then Kunti thinking that to be the proper opportunity, approached the group and said these words. Indeed, her words revived them as nectar revives a person that is dead.

Kunti said, “I desire to learn from you the cause of this grief, for I will remove it, if possible.”

The Brahmana replied, “O you of ascetic wealth, your speech is, indeed worthy of you. But this grief is incapable of being removed by any human being. Not far from this town, there lives a Rakshasa of the name of Baka, which cannibal is the lord of this country and town. Thriving on human flesh, that wretched Rakshasa endued with great strength rules this country. He being the chief of the Asuras, this town and the country in which it is situate are protected by his might. We have no fear from the machinations of any enemy, or indeed from any living soul. The fee, however, fixed for that cannibal is his food, which consists of a care-load of rice, two buffaloes, and a human being who conveys them unto him. One after another, the house-holders have to send him this food. The turn, however, comes to a particular family at intervals of many long years. If there are any that seek to avoid it, the Rakshasa slays them with their children and wives and devours them all. There is, in this country, a city called Vetrakiya, where lives the king of these territories. He is ignorant of the science of government, and possessed of little intelligence, he adopts not with care any measure by which these territories may be rendered safe for all time to come. But we certainly deserve it all, inasmuch as we live within the dominion of that wretched and weak monarch in perpetual anxiety. Brahmanas can never be made to dwell permanently within the dominions of any one, for they are dependent on nobody, they live rather like birds ranging all countries in perfect freedom. It has been said that one must secure a good king, then a wife, and then wealth. It is by the acquisition of these three that one can rescue his relatives and sons. But as regards the acquisition of these three, the course of my actions has been the reverse. Hence, plunged into a sea of danger, am suffering sorely. That turn, destructive of one's family, has now devolved upon me. I shall have to give unto the Rakshasa as his fee the food of the aforesaid description and one human being to boot. I have no wealth to buy a man with. I cannot by any means consent to part with any one of my family, nor do I see any way of escape from the clutches of that Rakshasa. I am now sunk in an ocean of grief from which there is no escape. I shall go to that Rakshasa today, attended by all my family in order that that wretch might devour us all at once.”

Kunti said, “Grieve not at all, O Brahmana, on account of this danger. I see a way by which to rescue you from that Rakshasa. You have only one son, who, besides, is of very tender years, also only one daughter, young and helpless, so I do not like that any of these, or your wife, or even yourself should go unto the Rakshasa. I have five sons, let one of them go, carrying in your behalf tribute of that Rakshasa.”

Hearing this, the Brahmana replied, “To save my own life I shall never suffer this to be done. I shall never sacrifice, to save myself, the life of a Brahmana or of a guest. Indeed, even those that are of low origin and of sinful practices refuse to do what you ask me to do. It is said that one should sacrifice one's self and one's offspring for the benefit of a Brahmana. I regard this advice excellent and I like to follow it too. When I have to choose between the death of a Brahmana and that of my own, I would prefer the latter. The killing of a Brahmana is the highest sin, and there is no expiation for it. I think a reluctant sacrifice of one's own self is better than the reluctant sacrifice of a Brahmana. O blessed lady, in sacrificing myself I do not become guilty of self-destruction. No sin can attach to me when another will take my life. But if I deliberately consent to the death of a Brahmana, it would be a cruel and sinful act, from the consequence of which there is no escape. The learned have said that the abandonment of one who has come to your house or sought your protection, as also the killing of one who seeks death at your hands, is both cruel and sinful. The illustrious among those conversant with practices allowable in seasons of distress, have before now said that one should never perform an act that is cruel and censurable. It is well for me that I should today perish myself with my wife, but I would never sanction the death of a Brahmana.”

Kunti said, “I too am firmly of opinion, O Brahmana, that Brahmanas should ever be protected. As regards myself, no son of mine would be less dear to me even if I had a hundred instead of the five I have. But this Rakshasa will not be able to kill my son, for that son of mine is endued with great prowess and energy, and skilled in mantras. He will faithfully deliver to the Rakshasa his food, but will, I know to a certainty, rescue himself. I have seen before many mighty Rakshasas of huge bodies engaged in combat with my heroic son and killed too by him. But, O Brahmana, do not disclose this fact to anybody, for if it be known, persons desirous of obtaining this power, will, from curiosity, always trouble my sons. The wise have said that if my son imparts any knowledge, without the assent of his preceptor, unto any person, my son himself will no longer be able to profit by that knowledge.”

Thus addressed by Pritha, the Brahmana with his wife became exceedingly glad and assented to Kunti's speech, which was unto them as nectar. Then Kunti, accompanied by the Brahmana, went unto Bhima and asked him to accomplish that difficult task. Bhima replied unto them, saying, “So be it.”

After Bhima had pledged himself to accomplish the task, saying, “I will do it,” the Pandavas returned home with the alms they had obtained during the day. Then Yudhishthira, the son of Pandu from Bhima's countenance alone, suspected the nature of the task he had undertaken to accomplish. Sitting by the side of his mother, Yudhishthira asked her in private, “What is the task, O mother, that Bhima of terrible prowess seeks to accomplish? Does he do so at your command or of his own accord?” Kunti replied, “Bhima will at my command, do this great deed for the good of the Brahmana and the liberation of this town.”

Yudhishthira said, “What rash act has you done, O mother! It is difficult of being performed and almost amounts to suicide! The learned never applaud the abandonment of one's own child. Why do you wish to sacrifice your own child for the sake of another's? You have by this abandonment of your child, acted not only against the course of human practices but also against the teachings of the Vedas, That Bhima, relying on whose arms we sleep happily in the night and hope to recover the kingdom of which we have been deprived by the covetous son of Dhritarashtra, that hero of immeasurable energy, remembering whose prowess Duryodhana and Sakuni do not sleep a wink during the whole night and by whose prowess we were rescued from the palace of lac and various other dangers, that Bhima who caused the death of Purochana, and relying on whose might we regard ourselves as having already slain the sons of Dhritarashtra and acquired the whole earth with all her wealth, upon what considerations have you resolved upon abandoning him? Have you been deprived of your reason? Has your understanding been clouded by the calamities you has undergone?”

On hearing these words of her son, Kunti said, “O Yudhishthira, you need not be at all anxious on account of Vrikodara. I have not come to this resolve owing to any weakness of understanding. Respected by him, and with our sorrows assuaged, we have, O son, been living in the house of this Brahmana, unknown to the sons of Dhritarashtra. For requiting that Brahmana, I have resolved to do this. He, indeed, is a man upon whom good offices are never lost. The measure of his requital becomes greater than the measure of the services he receives. Beholding the prowess of Bhima on the occasion of our escape from the house of lac, and from the destruction also of Hidimba, my confidence in Vrikodara is great. The might of Bhima's arms is equal unto that of ten thousand elephants. It was, therefore, that he succeeded in carrying you all, each heavy as an elephant, from Varanavata. There is no one on earth equal unto Bhima in might; he may even overcome that foremost of warriors, the holder of the thunderbolt himself. Soon after his birth he fell from my lap on the breast of the mountain. By the weight of his body the mass of stone on which he fell down broke in pieces. From this also I have come to know Bhima's might. For this reason have I resolved to set him against the Brahmana's foe. I have not acted in this from foolishness or ignorance or from motive of gain. I have deliberately resolved to do this virtuous deed. By this act, O Yudhishthira, two objects will be accomplished; one is a requital of the services rendered by the Brahmana and the other is the acquisition of high religious merit. It is my conviction that the Kshatriya who renders help unto a Brahmana in anything acquires regions of bliss hereafter. So also a Kshatriya who saves the life of a Kshatriya achieves that great fame in this world as in the other. A Kshatriya rendering help unto a Vaisya also on this earth certainly acquires world-wide popularity. One of the kingly tribe should protect even the Sudra who comes to him for protection. If he does so, in his next life he receives his birth in a royal line, commanding prosperity and the respect of other kings. The illustrious Vyasa of wisdom acquired by hard ascetic toil told me so in bygone days. It is therefore, that I have resolved upon accomplishing this.”

Having heard these words of his mother, Yudhishthira said, “What you, O mother, has deliberately done, moved by compassion for the afflicted Brahmana, is, indeed, excellent. Bhima will certainly come back with life, after having slain the cannibal, inasmuch as you are always compassionate unto Brahmanas. But tell the Brahmana that he does not do anything whereby the dwellers in this town may know all about it, and make him promise to keep your request.”

Then, when the night passed away, Bhimasena, taking with him the Rakshasa's food set out for the place where the cannibal lived. The mighty son of Pandu, approaching the forest where the Rakshasa dwelt, began to eat himself the food he carried, calling loudly to the Rakshasa by name. The Rakshasa, inflamed with anger at Bhima's words, came out and approached the place where Bhima was.

Of huge body and great strength, of red eyes, red beard, and red hair, he was terrible to behold, and he came, pressing deep the earth with his tread. The opening of his mouth, was from ear to ear and his ears themselves were straight as arrows. Of grim visage, he had a forehead furrowed into three lines. Beholding Bhima eating his food, the Rakshasa advanced, biting his nether lip and expanding his eyes in wrath. And addressing Bhima he said, “Who is this fool, who desiring to go to the abode of Yama, eats in my very sight the food intended for me?” Hearing these words, Bhima smiled in derision and disregarding the Rakshasa, continued eating with averted face. Beholding this, the cannibal uttered a frightful yell and with both arms upraised ran at Bhima desiring to kill him, there and then. Even then disregarding the Rakshasa and casting only a single glance at him, Vrikodara, that slayer of hostile heroes continued to eat the Rakshasa's food. Filled with wrath at this, the Rakshasa struck, from behind with both his arms a heavy blow on the back of Vrikodara, the son of Kunti. But Bhima, though struck heavily by the mighty Rakshasa, with both his hands, did not even look up at the Rakshasa but continued to eat as before. Then the mighty Rakshasa, inflamed with wrath, tore up a tree and ran at Bhima for striking him again. Meanwhile the mighty Bhima, that bull among men had leisurely eaten up the whole of that food and washing himself stood cheerfully for fight. Then, possessed of great energy, Bhima, smiling in derision, caught with his left hand the tree hurled at him by the Rakshasa in wrath. Then that mighty Rakshasa, tearing up many more trees, hurled them at Bhima, and the Pandava also hurled as many at the

Rakshasa. Then, the combat with trees between that human being and the Rakshasa, became so terrible that the region around soon became destitute of trees. Then the Rakshasa, saying that he was none else than Baka, sprang upon the Pandava and seized the mighty Bhima with his arms. That mighty hero also clasping with his own strong arms the strong-armed Rakshasa, and exerting himself actively, began to drag him violently. Dragged by Bhima and dragging Bhima also, the cannibal was overcome with great fatigue. The earth began to tremble in consequence of the strength they both exerted, and large trees that stood there broke in pieces. Then Bhima, beholding the cannibal overcome with fatigue, pressed him down on the earth with his knees and began to strike him with great force. Then placing one knee on the middle of the Rakshasa's back, Bhima seized his neck with his right hand and the cloth on his waist with his left, and bent him double with great force. The cannibal then roared frightfully. He also began to vomit blood while he was being thus broken on Bhima's knee.

Then Baka, huge as a mountain, thus broken on Bhima's knee, died, uttering frightful yells. Terrified by these sounds, the relatives of that Rakshasa came out, with their attendants. Bhima, seeing them so terrified and deprived of reason, comforted them and made them promise to give up cannibalism, saying, “Do not ever again kill human beings. If you kill men, you will have to die even as Baka.” Those Rakshasas hearing this speech of Bhima, said, “So be it,” and gave the desired promise. From that day, the Rakshasas of the region were seen by the inhabitants of that town to be very peaceful towards mankind. Then Bhima, dragging the lifeless cannibal, placed him at one of the gates of the town and went away unobserved by any one. The kinsmen of Baka, beholding him slain by the might of Bhima, became frightened and fled in different directions.

Meanwhile Bhima, having slain the Rakshasa, returned to the Brahmana's abode and related to Yudhishthira all that had happened, in detail. The next morning the inhabitants of the town in coming out saw the Rakshasa lying dead on the ground, his body covered with blood. Beholding that terrible cannibal, huge as a mountain cliff, thus mangled and lying on the ground, the hair of the spectators stood erect. Returning to Ekachakra, they soon gave the intelligence. Then, the citizens by thousands accompanied by their wives, young and old, all began to come to the spot for beholding the Baka and they were all amazed at seeing that superhuman feat. Instantly, they began to pray to their gods. Then they began to calculate whose turn it had been the day before to carry food to the Rakshasa. Ascertaining this, they all came to that Brahmana and asked him to satisfy their curiosity. Thus asked by them repeatedly, that Brahmana, desirous of concealing the Pandavas, said these words unto all the citizens, “A certain high-souled Brahmana, skilled in mantras, beheld me weeping with my relatives after I had been ordered to supply the Rakshasa's food. Asking me the cause and ascertaining the distress of the town, that first of Brahmanas gave me every assurance and with smiles said, “I shall carry the food for that wretched Rakshasa today. Do not fear for me.” Saying this he conveyed the food towards the forest of Baka. This deed, so beneficial unto us all, has very certainly been done by him.”

Then those Brahmanas and Kshatriyas of the city, hearing this, wondered much. The Vaisyas and the Sudras also became exceedingly glad, and they all established a festival in which the worship of Brahmanas was the principal ceremony in remembrance of this Brahmana who had relieved them from their fears of Baka. After this citizens returned to their respective houses and the Pandavas continued to dwell at Ekachakra as before.