At last Shravana carried his parents to all the major pilgrim centres that were on his list. Now the three were returning to Ayodhya. Unfortunately Vidya had already become history. Near Ayodhya on the bank of Saryu Shravana carefully put down his carry pole for a breather. They were also feeling thirsty.
“Son Shravana,” Shantavana called out.
“Yes father!”
“So, at last we are near Ayodhya. I can hear the Saryu river flowing. This spot is very peaceful. It feels very good.”
“That is natural, father. It is our homeland. There is no place better than home. One feels at home and peace is divine.”
“You are right, son. We are feeling thirsty. Do fetch some water from sacred Saryu.”
“Yes father. I can see that Maa is also thirsty.”
Gyanwati smiled.
Shravana picked up the brass pitcher he carried all along the journey for water. The pitcher he kept tied to the carry pole.
During that period the forest area along Saryu river was infested with dangerous predators. It had created a problem. Several cowherds and the woodcutters had got killed. When king Dashratha heard about the menace of the beasts he decided to deal with the problem himself and rid the area of the predators. On a tree near the river bank he got a platform created. And he sat there in the cover of foliage with his bow and arrows ready to shoot. The predators and other wild animals came there invariably to drink water.
King Dashratha was an expert in shooting arrows at out of the sight targets by cue of sound only. The beasts made lapping or gurgling sound while drinking water and that was to be the cue for Dashratha.
Unfortunately, that was when Shravana Kumar happened to go to the river bank to fetch water for his parents. When he pressed down his pitcher in the river the rushing in water made gurgling sound. King Dashratha thought it was some wild animal drinking water. He trained his arrow at the sound and shot it.
The arrow hit Shravana in his chest and he screamed, “Oh Maa! Oh father!!”
The human scream told Dashratha that he had made a grave mistake. He got off the tree and ran to the spot where Shravana was writhing in pain with arrow in his chest gone deep.
“Oh, it is our Shravana!” cried Dashratha in extreme shock and agony, “Oh God! What have I done? It is a tragedy. By mistake I killed the noble soul Shravana.”
“Who? King Dashratha?” Shravana moaned and spoke, “Accept my obeisance.”
“Oh Shravana! Noble Shravana!!” Dashratha said sadly, “Don’t make obeisance to a killer like me, son. I don’t deserve your greetings, curse me!”
“Don’t say that. You just made a mistake.”
“Mistake or no mistake, I am the most cruel and lowly killer, my Shravana. How can I seek your pardon? And what use it will be?”
“Don’t lament, King. It is my last hour. Speak some good words. If possible fulfill my last wish. I will be grateful to you.”
“What is your wish, Shravana?” Dashratha asked anxiously, “Spell it out, my son.”
“Over there under a tree sat my parents,” Shravana painfully pointed towards a tree and added, “They are thirsty. Give them water please. But do not break the news of my death to them until they don’t drink water in peace. Or…or they…wommmm….” His head rolled to a side. He was dead.
The heart of king Dashratha wrenched. He wept like a helpless child. He sat beside the body of dead Shravana and lamented, “O God! Why didn’t my sinning hands rot away before killing this noble youngman? Why didn’t some lion devour me? Why didn’t an elephant trample upon me? Why, why, why??? Why did I have to master the art of shooting arrow at sound?”
When someone commits a terrible act his conscience bites him at the consequences. His own attributes appear to him worse than curses. The same attributes in normal circumstances win one admiration of others, earn glory for one and in battles gain victory.
For a long time Dashratha lamented and cursed himself. A little light he felt now. He remembered his duty and the fulfilment of the last wish of Shravana which was going to be dreadful? How would he be able to face the parents of the dead man? But he had to serve them water and give the terrible news of the death of their son.
He picked up the water pitcher and walked on unsteady legs towards the tree where the blind folk sat waiting for their son and water. Tears were streaming off the eyes of Dashratha.
Shantavana and Gyanwati heard the footfalls and called out, “Shravana! What delayed you for so long? Quite a while you were away.”
Dashratha could not utter any words. He at last blurted out, “Yes father.”
“What happened to your voice, son? It is suddenly gruffy and sad,” Gyanwati remarked.
Dashratha could not speak. Instead of offering straight answer he begged, “Please drink water.”
Shantavana rose up and walked up to Dashratha groping. He said, “You are not our Shravana!”
“Why have you come to us? What have you done to our son?” Gyanwati screamed with grave misgiving, “You are an impostor. Truthfully tell us who are you? Where’s our son?”
“Take me for your son, Maa,” Dashratha pleaded, “First drink water and then I will tell you everything.” “No! We won’t accept anything from you. Tell me, is my son alright?” Shantavana asked anxiously.
“Look, I am king Dashratha of Ayodhya. I have come to serve you water as wished by Shravana.”
“But where is our son? Why hasn’t he come back to us? Why has he sent you instead?”
“You must take water first.”
“No!” screamed Gyanwati, “First tell us about the well being of our son.”
“Your son…”, Dashratha stammered and cried before adding, “…. has gone away.”
“Gone away! To where?”
“To…to…to… the other world.”
“Other world? What other world? He had only gone to fetch water for us.”
“B…b…believe me, your son is no more in this world. His dying wish was for me to serve you water and then break the news.”
“But how can he go to the other world without seeking our permission?” Shantavana growled.
“Holy folks! These days the forests along the river Saryu are infested with predator animals. Many people had been killed. To eliminate them I was here in this forest up on a machan (platform) to shoot arrows. As Shravana tried to fill pitcher with water a gurgling sound was made. I mistook it for some predator drinking water and shot my arrow. It unfortunately claimed our noble Shravana Kumar.
“Dashratha! That was a gruesome act done by you. You will suffer for it,” screamed Shantavana.
With folded hands Dashratha stood and begged, “I am your culprit. I admit my crime. I don’t deserve any mercy. Pass on your judgement and put a curse on me.”
“Dashratha! You have done it by mistake. That is why I am not asking you to drop dead or may have accursed your dynasty to get destroyed,” Gyanwati said crying.
Dashratha fell at the feet of Gyanwati and prayed, “Holy lady! I will accept any punishment spelled by you or any curse you put on me. That may lighten the burden on my conscience.”
“King! We are sorrowing for our son. It gives us no consolation,” Shantavana spoke and wailed, “We didn’t want to put any terrible curse on you but that won’t give us any consolation. My heart goes out of control and wishes to spit venom.”
The two old folk whispered to each other and then spoke in one voice, “The way we suffer in separation from our son you will suffer the same pain of separation.”
Thus, sorrowing for their son Shantavana and Gyanwati died of excessive grief.
King Dashratha watched the agonising death of noble Shravana Kumar and also witnessed Shantavana and Gyanwati die stricken with grief at the tragic fate of their son. Dashratha could do nothing but watch. That is how the destiny at one time or the other makes everyone helpless spectator of a tragedy.
