The Brähmaëa's Dilemma 
King Janamejaya said: 
Those great warriors, the sons of Kunté, went to Ekacakrä. But what did the Päëòavas do after that, O best of brähmaëas? 
Çré Vaiçampäyana said: 
Those great warriors, the sons of Kunté, did go to Ekacakrä, but they did not spend much time inside the brähmaëa's house, for, disguised as humble ascetics, they went out begging, and as they went about collecting alms, O king, they would see the charming varieties of forests, the fascinating geological regions, and the rivers and lakes of that country. By their excellent character and qualities, the Päëòavas became a very agreeable sight for the people of the city. 
Every night they would deliver their alms to Kunté, and each son would enjoy what she set aside for him. Four heroic brothers and Kunté herself would eat half the food collected by begging, and mighty Bhéma would eat the other half. As those great souls thus spent their days there, O mighty Bhärata king, a long time passed. 
One day, when the Bharata princes had gone out begging and Bhémasena had stayed behind to keep company with his mother, Kunté heard a terrible cry of grief sounding throughout the brähmaëa's house. My dear Bhärata king, Kunté was a very merciful person, a godly woman with the mind of a saint, and when she heard the brähmaëa and his family wailing in anguish, she could not bear it. Her heart suddenly churning with sorrow, the gentle lady called her son Bhéma and said to him in a voice filled with kindness, «My son, we are living very happily in the house of the brähmaëa; we live as honored guests without any strife, completely hidden from the sons of Dhåtaräñöra. I am always thinking, son, whether I could not possibly do something to please the brähmaëa, for when people live happily as guests in another's home, it is normal to offer something to the host. After all, a person's character is measured by his gratitude. When kindness is shown to a gentleman, he never forgets it, and he feels that he must do even more in return. It is quite clear that some tragedy has befallen this brähmaëa, and if I can help him in his crisis, I will have done a good deed. 
Bhéma said: 
We must find out what grief has arisen for this brähmaëa. Once we find out, I am determined to help him, even if it be a most difficult task. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana said: 
O lord of men, as the two of them went on talking, they again heard a cry of anguish coming from the brähmaëa and his wife. Thereupon, Kunté rushed into the inner quarters of the noble brähmaëa like a merciful cow whose calf has been trapped. There she saw the brähmaëa with his wife, son, and daughter, but his face was transformed in grief. 
The brähmaëa said: 
What a curse, to be born in a world where our dreams go unfulfilled and instead we suffer a pain that burns like fire, a world where we depend on others and take the deepest sorrow as our lot. To be alive is the greatest grief; to be alive is the hottest fever; to be alive and working in this world surely means to choose among conflicting delusions. Even if a person lives alone and does not worry about worldly piety, prosperity, and bodily pleasure, nonetheless a life without these things is considered the greatest misery. Some people say that salvation is the greatest thing, but I have no hope that I will achieve it. And if a person acquires ordinary wealth, all hell besets him. To be greedy for wealth is the worst misery, and if one actually acquires wealth, he suffers even more. And one who falls in love with his money suffers the greatest pain of all when he inevitably parts with it. In any case, I see no way to save myself from this disaster unless I flee to a safe place with my wife and children. 
You know very well, brähmaëa lady, that in the past I tried to get you to leave for your own good, but you did not listen to me. No matter how many times I begged you, foolish woman, all you could say was, «I was born and raised here, and my father was born and raised here.» But your old father and mother went to heaven a long time ago, and so did your other elder relatives and friends. So what pleasure is there in living here? You were so attached to your relatives that you did not listen to my words, and now your own family must perish and I cannot stand the pain. The only solution is that I perish. I cannot bear to lose any one of my family and go on living like a cruel and heartless man. 
I have always practiced religion together with my wife, and she is like a mother to me, always restrained, a true friend arranged by the gods who has always helped me more than anyone in my life's progress. She was ordained for me by my venerable father and mother, and she has shared with me from the beginning all the duties and burdens of married people. My dear wife, you are an educated woman from a noble family, the mother of my children, and having accepted you in accordance with all our customs and wed you in sacred marriage with the chanting of mantras, how can I now sacrifice you, a saintly and faultless wife who is ever faithful, simply to save my own life? 
And how could I ever bring myself to sacrifice my beloved daughter, who is still a child, who has not even reached her full youth or developed the mature signs of womanhood. The exalted creator of this world has placed her in my care on behalf of her future husband. I aspire for the higher planets where my forefathers dwell, but I can only achieve them through the goodness and piety of my daughter's son. And having brought her into this world, how could I dare abandon her? 
Some men think that a father has greater affection for his son than for his daughter, but my love is the same for both my children. On the son rests one's hopes for higher worlds, family lineage, and eternal happiness, but my daughter is an innocent child. How could I dare abandon her? If I did that I would be rejecting my own soul, and I would suffer in the tenebrous worlds of fallen spirits. And yet if I leave them behind, it is clear that they also will not have the strength to live. To sacrifice any one of them would be an act of cruelty, condemned by the wise, yet if I sacrifice myself they will all die without me. 
I have fallen into such anguish and I have no power to escape it. O damn! What will happen to me and my family? To die with all of them is best, for I can no more endure this life. 
The brähmaëa's wife said: 
You should never lament like that, as if you were an ordinary man. You are a brähmaëa learned in the spiritual science, and under no circumstance should you lament like that. Destruction of the material body is inevitable, for all men must die. There should be no lamentation for that which is bound to perish. Ultimately, a man cherishes all his possessions–his wife, son, and daughter–for his own satisfaction. The soul itself is eternal and dependent only on God. Therefore give up your anxiety through perfect spiritual knowledge, for I am determined that I myself shall go to that place. Since time began, the supreme duty for a woman in this world is to do what is best for her faithful husband, even at the cost of her life. Therefore by performing such an act I shall bring you happiness, and I shall gain undying glory both in this world and the next. 
I shall now declare to you the religious principles that must guide our present actions, for they will clearly increase your prosperity and virtue: you have now fulfilled with me the purpose for which a man seeks a wife. I have given you a good daughter and a son, and therefore I have no further debt to you. You are capable of nourishing and protecting our two children. I cannot nourish and protect them as well as you. Without you I would simply suffer, unable to satisfy the needs of the family. How would the two young children survive, and how would I live? Without you I shall be an unprotected widow with two small children. How will I give a good life to my children and keep myself on the path of righteousness? 
How will I be able to protect our daughter when she is pursued by proud and indecent men who are unworthy of marriage with our family? Just as birds eagerly chase a piece of meat that is thrown on the ground, so do all men pursue and exploit a woman who has no strong man to protect her. O best of brähmaëas, I will be disturbed by wicked men who will come lusting after me, and I will not have the power to stay on the godly path that is so revered by the decent. 
If you do not see to her religious education, how will I have the energy or authority to keep this young girl, your only daughter, on the path of her father and forefathers? How will I have the strength to instill good and necessary qualities in this young boy when he is fatherless and exploited all around? How will I teach him to care about religion as you do? Unworthy men will push me aside and go after your unprotected daughter, like the uncultured men who seek to force their way into the spiritual science. And if I don't want to give them this virgin girl, who is endowed with all your fine qualities, they will grow violent with me and take her by force, as crows steal clarified butter from the arena of sacrifice. 
When I am forced to see your son grow up unlike his father, and your daughter fallen into the hands of unworthy men, and when I am thus despised by the people, and I forget my own soul in the company of polluted men, then I shall undoubtedly die. My two young children will have already lost their father, and when they lose their mother there is no question but that they will perish like two fish in a lake gone dry. Bereft of you, the three of us will thus perish without a doubt. Therefore it is I whom you must sacrifice. O brähmaëa, for women it is the highest felicity and the noblest act to make the final journey before their husband, not to let the husband die and then try to take his place in their children's life. I am prepared to give up my son, my daughter, and all my relatives, because I live only for your sake. To live always for the good of her husband is far better for a woman than the practice of sacrificial rites, austerities, religious formulas, and all kinds of charity. That which I desire to do is a religious act fully approved by the Supreme, and, [considering the situation,] it is certainly desirable and beneficial for you and for our family. 
The sages know that a man wants children, property, and loving friends to free himself from trouble and woe, and he wants a wife for the same reason. Putting the whole family on one side and you on the other, all of us are not equal to you. That would certainly be the decision of rational people. Do with me what must be done and act to save yourself. Grant me leave, O noble one, and take good care of our two children. 
In any case, knowers of law say that the law definitely forbids the killing of women. They say that even Räkñasas know these laws, and so he probably won't even kill me. Men will undoubtedly be killed, but the killing of women is doubtful. Therefore you who know the law should send me there. I have enjoyed my life, for I have received much love, and I have practiced virtue in my life. Now, having borne loving children by you, losing my life will give me no pain. I have had my children and am getting older. I only want your happiness. I have studied the whole situation and made my decision. Though losing me, noble man, you will find another woman, and your religious duties [as a husband and father] will again be firmly established. My gentle husband, it is not irreligious for men to take many wives, but it is most irreligious for women to betray their first husband. If you study the whole situation, you will see how abominable it is for you to sacrifice yourself. Rather, through me you must save yourself, your family, and our two children. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana said: 
When the husband was thus addressed by his wife, he tightly embraced her, O Bhärata, and they silently shed tears in deep anguish. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana continued: 
Listening to the words of her parents, who were grieving beyond measure, their young daughter felt her entire body seized by that same grief, and she said to them, «How is it that you are both so grief-stricken that you wail as if there were no one to help you? I have something to say, so please listen, and then kindly do as I ask. According to our religious laws, it is I whom you must surrender. Surrender me, who without doubt am to be given up here, and thus by one–me–all will be saved. After all, when parents have children they think, `My child will save me one day.' That time has now come, and you two must save yourselves with my help, for I am like a boat that will take you across the ocean of grief. Both in this world and in the next, a child is meant to save the family from the troubles of life, and that is why the wise have named the child putra. That is why grandparents always long to have children from their daughters. Now I will personally deliver my forefathers by saving the life of my father. My brother is just a child, and if you go to the next world, Father, he will perish in a short time, without doubt. Certainly if Father goes to heaven, my little brother will perish. The sacred offerings to the forefathers will be cut off, and that will create much suffering for them. If I am left without my father and mother and brother, then I shall go from misery to greater misery, and I would then die in a most unnatural way. 
«If you, Father, along with my mother and baby brother, are free and healthy, then our family line and the offerings to the ancestors will undoubtedly go on nicely. A son is the father's very soul, and a wife is his best friend, but a daughter is simply trouble for her father. Free yourself from this trouble, and engage me according to our religious laws. Otherwise, if I am deprived of my father, then wherever I go, an unprotected and wretched young girl, I shall find only misery. Either I shall set our family free, [and by executing such a difficult duty my end will be beneficial to all], or else, dear Father, best of brähmaëas, you will pass away, leaving me behind, and I shall become a miserable creature. Therefore you must consider me too. 
«Thus for my sake, for religion's sake, and for the family's sake, noble man, sacrifice me and protect yourself, for it is I who should be given up. In the matter of an unavoidable duty, the Lord will not punish you, and the greatest good will come to me from the sacred water offered by your hand to a departed daughter. 
«What could be more miserable than for you to go to heaven, father, so that we are left to run around like dogs, begging food from others? Rather, when you and the family are freed from this trouble and are all healthy and strong, then I shall dwell in the immortal world, and my heart will be filled with joy.» 
Hearing many such entreaties from the young girl, the father and mother, and the girl herself, all wailed and wept. Then, hearing all his family crying, the brähmaëa's tiny son opened his eyes wide, and the child spoke out in the broken, unclear speech of the very young. 
«Daddy, don't cry; don't, mother! Don't you, sister!» and laughing, he went up to each of them one by one. He then took a straw in his hand and again spoke in a joyful tone: «I'll kill the man-eating Räkñasa with this!» 
In spite of the misery that filled their hearts, when they heard the broken speech of the little boy, a great joy arose among them. «Now is the time,» Kunté realized, and she went to them, who were almost dead with grief, and brought them back to life with words that were like immortal nectar. 
Bhéma Kills the Demon 
Kunté Devé said: 
What is the cause of all this suffering? I want to know the facts, and once I understand the situation, if there is any way to drive away your grief I shall do it. 
The brähmaëa said: 
O ascetic woman, the words you speak are to be expected from holy persons like you, but I must tell you that no human being can dispel our grief. Close to this city dwells a mighty Räkñasa named Baka, and he rules the city and all the countryside. He is an evil-minded man-eater. 
That powerful and demonic Räkñasa king protects the city, countryside, and the entire state; indeed, it is because of him that we have no fear of other kings or creatures. 
But he has established a price for his protection: we must provide him a wagonload of rice, two buffaloes, and the person who delivers it to him. One by one, each person offers him his food, and when a person's turn comes, after many years, it is not at all easy to escape. Whenever a man tries to get free of this atrocious duty, the Räkñasa kills him with his wife and children and immediately eats them. Our official king lives in Vetrakéya, but he has no plan whereby we might live in peace, forever free of this demon. 
Actually, we deserve our fate, for we have chosen to live in the domain of a weakling king. We are always in anxiety, for we have chosen the shelter of a bad king. After all, who can tell the brähmaëas what they must do? The brähmaëas have their own mind; they are not subservient to anyone's will. With all their saintly qualities, they blow about like the wind and go where they will, like the birds. 
It is said that one should first find a good king, and after that a wife, and then one should seek one's fortune. One who gathers these three necessities will be able to maintain his relatives and children. Unfortunately, I acquired all this, but in the wrong order, and now, having fallen into this terrible calamity, we are all suffering. You see, our turn has come, and it will destroy this family, for I must now pay the price of the demon's food by providing one human being. I could never raise enough money to purchase a man [who would sacrifice his own life to enrich his family]. And I could never bring myself to sacrifice one of my dear ones. I see no way to get free from the Räkñasa. I have sunk into the great ocean of grief, and it is very, very difficult to escape. I shall go with all of my family to meet that Räkñasa, and that hungry monster will consume all of us together. 
Kunté Devé said: 
You should in no way be depressed over this danger, for there is clearly a means to get free from the Räkñasa. You have one little son and a saintly virgin daughter. I don't think that you or the children or your wife should go. I have five sons, brähmaëa, and one of them will take the offering on your behalf and go to the sinful Räkñasa. 
The brähmaëa said: 
Though I wish to live, I shall absolutely not do that. When a brähmaëa is a guest in my home, I will never take his life to serve my own interest. Even among the most low-born and irreligious women, there is no such rule that a woman is to sacrifice herself and even her son for a brähmaëa. I should know what is best for me, so it seems, and between murdering a brähmaëa and killing myself, it is better that I take my own life. Killing a brähmaëa is the greatest sin, and there is no atoning for such an act, even if committed unknowingly, so it is best that I take my own life. I do not desire to be killed, good woman, but if I am killed by others, I am guilty of no sin. Were I to intentionally cause a brähmaëa's death, I see no means of atonement for such a shameless act of cruelty. In just the same way, to sacrifice a person who has come to my home seeking shelter, to cause the death of one who is begging me for charity, I consider to be the supreme cruelty. In ancient times the great souls who understood religious duties in times of trouble stated that one must never perform an abominable act or an act of cruelty. It is better that I myself perish with my wife, for I shall never allow the killing of a brähmaëa under any circumstances. 
Kunté Devé said: 
Learned brähmaëa, my mind will not move from my conviction that sages such as you must be protected. Nor is it that I don't love my own son. Even if I had a hundred sons, I would dearly love every one of them. The simple fact is that the Räkñasa does not have the power to kill my son. My son has perfected the art of mantras. He is powerful and can burn like fire. My mind is convinced that he will deliver all the food to the Räkñasa, and then he will free himself. We have already seen many strong and giant Räkñasas do battle with my heroic son, and every one of them was killed. But this is not to be spoken to anyone, no matter what, O brähmaëa, for surely people would desire to get this knowledge, and out of curiosity they would harass my sons. And without the permission of his guru, even if my son were to teach his knowledge to another, the science would not perform its function. That is the opinion of the saintly sages. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana said: 
At these words of Kunté, the brähmaëa and his wife joyfully welcomed her proposal, which seemed to them like the life-giving nectar of the gods. Thereupon, Kunté and the brähmaëa went and spoke to Bhéma, telling him that he must execute this task. He agreed and said, «So be it.» 
Çré Vaiçampäyana continued: 
O Bhärata, after Bhéma had given his word, saying «I will do it!» all the other Päëòavas returned home, bringing the alms they had gathered. Yudhiñöhira, son of Päëòu, knew his brother well, and he could see from Bhéma's appearance that something was happening. Sitting down with his mother in private, he asked her, «What is Bhéma about to do, with all his awesome prowess? Has he received permission for something he desires to do here?» 
Kunté Devé said: 
Yes, on my order Bhéma, burner of the foe, will perform a great task to help the brähmaëa and set the city free. 
Yudhiñöhira Mahäräja [understanding the task] said: 
What is this rash enthusiasm that has led you to such a thoughtless act? The saintly do not recommend that a mother sacrifice her own son. Why do you want to give up your own son for the sake of someone else's son? By sacrificing your son, you have violated the moral codes of this world. By depending on his two arms, we all sleep peacefully at night, and we shall take back our kingdom, which was stolen from us by wicked cousins. Such is Bhéma's immeasurable strength and courage that just by thinking about him, Duryodhana and Çakuni cannot lie down peacefully in their many mansions. By the strength of that mighty hero we were saved from the house of lac and from other wicked men, and he is the one who slew Purocana. Because we depend upon his strength, we are confident that we shall cut down the sons of Dhåtaräñöra and regain our rightful rule over this most abundant earth. What were you thinking of that convinced you to abandon him? Could it not be that your intelligence was overcome by your many troubles and you lost your discrimination? 
Kunté Devé said: 
Yudhiñöhira, you need not lament for Bhéma, nor did I reach my decision because of weak intelligence. Here in this brähmaëa's house we have been living very happily, my son, and I have correctly concluded, my child, that we must do something for him in return. After all, a man is measured by his gratitude, that whatever is done for him is not forgotten. Having seen Bhéma's great prowess in the house of lac and in the killing of Hiòimba, I now have full confidence in him. The great power in Bhéma's arms is equal to the strength of thousands of elephants, and by that strength all of you, who are yourselves like elephants, were carried out of Väraëävata. There is no one with the strength of Bhéma, nor will there be. Why, he could stand up in battle to thunder-wielding Indra, who is the best of the gods. Long ago, just a few days after his birth, he fell from my lap onto the hillside, and so strong was his body that his limbs pulverized the mountain stone. 
With proper intelligence I recalled the actual strength of Bhéma, and I made up my mind, Päëòava, to repay our debt to the learned brähmaëa. This decision is not a result of greed or ignorance, nor does it proceed from delusion. With careful thought I have determined our duty. There will be two purposes accomplished: we shall pay for our stay in this house, and we shall perform an act of great piety. I have heard from authorities that a warrior who helps a brähmaëa in his hour of need attains to the planets where the pious dwell. A warrior who saves another warrior from death achieves widespread glory in this world and in the next. A warrior who helps a merchant in battle will certainly gain popularity among the citizens of every country. And a king who saves a laborer who has come to him begging for shelter will take birth in this world in a wealthy family that is honored by the government. 
Vyäsadeva, the incarnation of Godhead, has already declared this, O Kaurava child, and he is extremely wise. Therefore, this is the desirable course of action. 
Yudhiñöhira Mahäräja said: 
You acted, mother, out of compassion for a suffering brähmaëa, and I see now that your plan is proper and well conceived. Bhéma will surely slay that man-eater and return to us. But we must seriously advise and restrain the brähmaëa so that the residents of the city do not discover us. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana said: 
When the night had passed, the Päëòava Bhémasena gathered the food and went to where the man-eater was waiting. Approaching the Räkñasa's forest, the powerful Päëòava called out his name, inviting him to come and eat the food. Thereupon the Räkñasa, hearing Bhémasena's words, came in a fit of rage to where Bhéma was stationed. His body was huge, and he seemed to shatter the earth as he came at great speed. He frowned, his eyebrows standing up like tridents, and he chewed horribly on his lips. 
[Waiting for the demon, Bhéma himself began to eat the food.] Seeing that Bhémasena was eating food meant for him, the Räkñasa opened his eyes wide and angrily said, «Who is this stupid man who before my very eyes eats food sent for me? He must be eager to visit the lord of death!» 
Hearing this, Bhéma simply laughed, O Bhärata, and rudely ignoring the Räkñasa, he looked away and continued to eat. Then with a heart-stopping scream, the man-eater raised his hands and rushed to kill Bhémasena. But the mighty Päëòava warrior again showed his contempt for the Räkñasa, for without even looking up he continued to eat the food. Wild with indignation, the Räkñasa stood behind Kunté's son and slammed him in the back with both fists. When Bhéma was thus severely struck by the powerful demon, he did not even glance at the Räkñasa, and he went on eating his meal. 
Newly enraged, the mighty Räkñasa uprooted a tree, and again rushed upon Bhéma, intending to smash him with this weapon. Bhéma had gradually finished his meal, and washing his hands and mouth with water, that best of men stood up with all his enormous power, overjoyed at the opportunity to fight. As the tree was furiously hurled at him, powerful Bhéma simply grabbed it and held it with his left hand and laughed loudly, O Bhärata. Thereupon the demon pulled many kinds of trees out of the earth and hurled them at Bhéma, who hurled them back at the Räkñasa. Thus a terrifying fight with trees arose between Baka and the Päëòava, O king, and all the forest trees were ruined. 
Proudly shouting his own name, Baka then rushed up to mighty Bhéma and seized him with his arms. Bhémasena then wrapped his own huge arms about the Räkñasa, and as the demon writhedömightily in his grip, powerful Bhéma dragged him about. Being hauled around by Bhéma, and dragging him in turn, the man-eater was afflicted by intense fatigue. Still, by the great power of the two fighters, the very earth shook. Battling their way through the forest, they pulverized gigantic trees. 
Seeing clearly that the Räkñasa was coming to the end of his endurance, Våkodara slammed him against the ground and pounded him with his fists. Then with his knee Bhéma pushed hard on the demon's back, holding his neck with his right hand and seizing his waist cloth with his left. As the demon screamed and bellowed in horrible anguish, Bhéma broke him in two, and as the horrible monster was being cracked apart, blood flowed from his mouth. 
Çré Vaiçampäyana continued: 
Terrified by the sound, the Räkñasa's loyal followers rushed out of their homes, O king, accompanied by their servants. The powerful Bhéma calmed them down, for they were practically fainting with fright. That best of fighters then made them agree to the following treaty: «You Räkñasas are never again to commit violence against human beings. Those who commit violence will immediately be killed in the same way as Baka.» 
O Bhärata, when the Räkñasas heard this command they replied, «So be it!» and accepted the terms of the treaty. From that time on, O Bhärata, the Räkñasas of that country became peaceful and could be seen moving about the city along with the humans who dwelled there. 
Thereafter, Bhéma took the lifeless body of the man-eater and threw it down by the city gate and departed without being seen. Having killed the demon and returned to the house of the brähmaëa, Bhéma explained to King Yudhiñöhira all that had happened. 
At daybreak, when the people began to walk outside the city gates, they beheld the Räkñasa lying dead on the ground, ripped asunder, blood still oozing from his body, which resembled a mountain summit. Seeing the frightful scene, they went back into the city of Ekacakrä and reported the news. Then, O king, the men of the city came there by the thousands with their wives, elders, and young children to see the slain Baka. They were all astonished at this superhuman deed, and everyone offered prayers and worship to their deities. Calculating whose turn it had been that day to feed the demon, the citizens approached the brähmaëa and inquired from him about the awesome event. 
Although questioned repeatedly, the brähmaëa protected the Päëòavas. The best of sages declared to all the townspeople, «When ordered to feed the demon, I was weeping with my family when a very mighty brähmaëa with perfect knowledge of mantras saw me in that pitiable state. He first inquired about the cause of my suffering and then about the misfortune of our city, and laughing as if to encourage me, that most noble brähmaëa bravely declared, `I shall deliver this food to the evil Baka! Do not fear for my sake.' He took the food and went toward Baka's forest. Clearly it was that saint who accomplished this feat for the good of the world.» 
At this, all the brähmaëas and kñatriya princes were quite amazed, and together with the merchants and workers they joyfully celebrated a festival in honor of the brähmaëas. Soon after, all the countryfolk came to the city to see the great wonder, and the sons of Påthä continued to dwell in the very same place.