The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 2: Books 4, 5, 6 and 7
General
The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 2: Books 4, 5, 6 and 7
Epic literature, Sanskrit
He that beareth himself as a friend, even though
unconnected by birth of blood, is a true friend, a real refuge, and a
protector. He, whose heart is unsteady, or who doth not wait upon the
aged, or who is of a restless disposition cannot make friends. Success
(in the attainment of objects) forsaketh the person whose heart is
unsteady, or who hath no control over his mind, or who is a slave of his
senses, like swans forsaking a tank whose waters have dried up. They that
are of weak minds suddenly give way to anger and are gratified without
sufficient cause; they are like clouds that are so inconstant. The very
birds of prey abstain from touching the dead bodies of those who having
been served and benefited by friends, show ingratitude to the latter.
Beest thou poor or beest thou rich, thou shouldst honour thy friends.
Until some service is asked, the sincerity or otherwise of friends cannot
be known. Sorrow killeth beauty; sorrow killeth strength; sorrow killeth
the understanding; and sorrow bringeth on disease. Grief, instead of
helping the acquisition of his object, drieth up the body, and maketh
one’s foes glad. Therefore, do not yield to grief. Men repeatedly die and
are reborn; repeatedly they wither away and grow; repeatedly they ask
others for help, and they themselves are asked for help; repeatedly they
lament and are lamented. Happiness and misery, plenty and want, gain and
loss, life and death, are shared by all in due order. Therefore, he that
is self-controlled should neither exult in joy nor repine in sorrow. The
six senses are always restless. Through the most predominant one amongst
them one’s understanding escapeth in proportion to the strength it
assumes, like water from a pot through its holes.’
“Dhritarashtra said, ‘King Yudhishthira who is like a flame of fire, has
been deceived by me. He will surely exterminate in battle all my wicked
sons. Everything, therefore, seems to me to be fraught with danger, and
my mind is full of anxiety. O thou of great intelligence, tell me such
words as may dispel my anxiety.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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