Vedantic Tales : The Blue Pellet

There was a knock at the door. His mother jumped up, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see that she took the dust of someone's feet.

Thank God you have come! she cried. Madhav is dead! Is he dead? Then with alarm: Why have you come? Did you sense that he was dead?

No, Mother, I sensed nothing. It was the voice of the sannyasin. I was passing this way and met Javni. She told me Madhav was ill. Let us see. The sadhu bent over Madhav and listened to his heart, felt his throat, prodded him here and there, and then, his face hidden from the others, winked at him. Only a little longer, he murmured.

What did you say? the mother asked. Is he dead? It happened so suddenly. He was standing near me, trying to tell me something ...

The sannyasin shook his head sadly. He is not dead yet, he said, but there is not much time left.

The mother buried her head in her hands and wailed. I too, will die. You must save him, Maharaj. I beseech you! You alone can save him!

You have great faith in the power of renunciation, Mother? Yes, I can save him. But there is only one way.

Any way! the mother cried.

The only way is that some member of his family give his or her life for him.

For the first time Madhav felt sick. What was the sadhu up to? Was this whole charade a subtle form of murder? In another moment his mother would plunge a knife into her heart to save a son who in truth was in no need of saving. Freedom thus won would be no freedom at all. He fought to cry out.

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