[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
When they came to themselves, the mist had disappeared and a complete change of scene had been wrought.
The fires of the funeral pyre had rekindled of themselves, and stretched thereon was seen a hind (Rohit)*
which was none else than the Prince Rohita, Devarata, who, pierced to the heart with the knife he had
directed against another, was burning as a sacrifice for his sin.
* A play upon words. Rohit in Sanskrit is the Dame of the female of the deer, the hind, and
Rohita means "red". It was because of his cowardice and fear of death that he was changed,
according to the legend, into a hind by the Gods.
Some little way apart from the altar, also lying stretched out, but on a bed of Lotuses, peacefully slept
Sunahsepha; and in the place on his breast where the knife had descended was seen to bloom a beautiful blue
lotus. The Pushkara lake, itself, covered a moment before with white lotuses, whose petals shone in the sun
like silver cups full of Amrita's waters [The Elixir which confers Immortality.], now reflected the azure of the
heavens -- the white lotuses had become blue.
Then like to the sound of the Vina [A species of the Lute. An instrument, the invention of which is attributed
to Shiva.] rising to the air from the depth of the waters, was heard a melodious voice which uttered these
words and this curse:
"A prince who does not know how to die for his subjects is not worthy to reign over the children of the Sun.
He will be reborn in a race of red haired peoples, a barbarous and selfish race, and the nations which descend
from him will have a heritage ever on the decline. It is the younger son of a mendicant ascetic who will
become the King and reign in his stead."
A murmur of approbation set in movement the flowery carpet that overspread the lake. Opening to the golden
sunlight their hearts of blue, the lotuses smiled with joy and wafted a hymn of perfume to Surya, their Sun
and Master. All nature rejoiced, save Devarata, who was but a handful of ashes.
THE BLUE LOTUS 24
Nightmare Tales
Then Visvamitra, the great Rishi, although he was already the father of a hundred sons, adopted Sunahsepha
as his eldest son and as a precautionary measure cursed in advance anyone who should refuse to recognise, in
the last born of the Rishi, the eldest of his children and the legitimate heir of the throne of Ambarisha.
Because of this decree, Sunahsepha was born in his next incarnation in the royal family of Ayodha and
reigned over the Solar race for 84,000 years.
With regard to Rohita -- Devarata or God-given as he was -- he fulfilled the lot which Lakshmi Padma had
vowed. He reincarnated in the family of a foreigner without caste (Mleccha-Yavana) and became the
ancestor of the barbarous and red-haired races which dwell in the West.
* * * * *
It is for the conversion of these races that the Lotus Bleu has been established.
If any of our readers should allow themselves to doubt the historical truth of this adventure of our ancestor;
Rohita, and of the transformation of the white lotus into the blue lotus, they are invited to make a journey to
Ajmeer.
Once there, they need only to go to the shores of the lake thrice blessed, named Pushkara, where every
pilgrim who bathes during the full moon time of the month of Krhktika (October-November) attains to the
highest sanctity, without other effort. There the sceptics would see with their own eyes the site where was
built the pyre of Rohita, and also the waters visited by Lakshmi in days of yore.
They might even have seen the blue lotuses, if most of these had not since been changed, thanks to a new
transformation decreed by the Gods, into sacred crocodiles which no one has the right to disturb. It is this
transformation which gives to nine out of every ten pilgrims who plunge into the waters of the lake, the
opportunity of entering into Nirvana almost immediately, and also causes the holy crocodiles to be the most
bulky of their kind.
A BEWITCHED LIFE
As Narrated by a Quill Pen
By H. P. Blavatsky
INTRODUCTION
It was a dark, chilly night in September, 1884. A heavy gloom had descended over the streets of A---, a
small town on the Rhine, and was hanging like a black funeral-pall over the dull factory burgh. The greater
number of its inhabitants, wearied by their long day's work, had hours before retired to stretch their tired
limbs, and lay their aching heads upon their pillows. All was quiet in the large house; all was quiet in the
deserted streets.
I too was lying in my bed; alas, not one of rest, but of pain and sickness, to which I had been confined for
some days. So still was everything in the house, that, as Longfellow has it, its stillness seemed almost
audible. I could plainly hear the murmur of the blood as it rushed through my aching body, producing that
monotonous singing so familiar to one who lends a watchful ear to silence. I had listened to it until, in my
nervous imagination, it had grown into the sound of a distant cataract, the fall of mighty waters . . . when,
suddenly changing its character, the evergrowing "singing" merged into other and far more welcome sounds.
A BEWITCHED LIFE 25
Nightmare Tales
It was the low, and at first scarce audible, whisper of a human voice. It approached, and gradually
strengthening seemed to speak in my very ear. Thus sounds a voice speaking across a blue quiescent lake, in
one of those wondrously acoustic gorges of the snow-capped mountains, where the air is so pure that a word
pronounced half a mile off seems almost at the elbow. Yes; it was the voice of one whom to know is to
reverence; of one, to me, owing to many mystic associations, most dear and holy; a voice familiar for long
years and ever welcome; doubly so in hours of mental or physical suffering, for it always brings with it a ray
of hope and consolation. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
When they came to themselves, the mist had disappeared and a complete change of scene had been wrought.
The fires of the funeral pyre had rekindled of themselves, and stretched thereon was seen a hind (Rohit)*
which was none else than the Prince Rohita, Devarata, who, pierced to the heart with the knife he had
directed against another, was burning as a sacrifice for his sin.
* A play upon words. Rohit in Sanskrit is the Dame of the female of the deer, the hind, and
Rohita means "red". It was because of his cowardice and fear of death that he was changed,
according to the legend, into a hind by the Gods.
Some little way apart from the altar, also lying stretched out, but on a bed of Lotuses, peacefully slept
Sunahsepha; and in the place on his breast where the knife had descended was seen to bloom a beautiful blue
lotus. The Pushkara lake, itself, covered a moment before with white lotuses, whose petals shone in the sun
like silver cups full of Amrita's waters [The Elixir which confers Immortality.], now reflected the azure of the
heavens -- the white lotuses had become blue.
Then like to the sound of the Vina [A species of the Lute. An instrument, the invention of which is attributed
to Shiva.] rising to the air from the depth of the waters, was heard a melodious voice which uttered these
words and this curse:
"A prince who does not know how to die for his subjects is not worthy to reign over the children of the Sun.
He will be reborn in a race of red haired peoples, a barbarous and selfish race, and the nations which descend
from him will have a heritage ever on the decline. It is the younger son of a mendicant ascetic who will
become the King and reign in his stead."
A murmur of approbation set in movement the flowery carpet that overspread the lake. Opening to the golden
sunlight their hearts of blue, the lotuses smiled with joy and wafted a hymn of perfume to Surya, their Sun
and Master. All nature rejoiced, save Devarata, who was but a handful of ashes.
THE BLUE LOTUS 24
Nightmare Tales
Then Visvamitra, the great Rishi, although he was already the father of a hundred sons, adopted Sunahsepha
as his eldest son and as a precautionary measure cursed in advance anyone who should refuse to recognise, in
the last born of the Rishi, the eldest of his children and the legitimate heir of the throne of Ambarisha.
Because of this decree, Sunahsepha was born in his next incarnation in the royal family of Ayodha and
reigned over the Solar race for 84,000 years.
With regard to Rohita -- Devarata or God-given as he was -- he fulfilled the lot which Lakshmi Padma had
vowed. He reincarnated in the family of a foreigner without caste (Mleccha-Yavana) and became the
ancestor of the barbarous and red-haired races which dwell in the West.
* * * * *
It is for the conversion of these races that the Lotus Bleu has been established.
If any of our readers should allow themselves to doubt the historical truth of this adventure of our ancestor;
Rohita, and of the transformation of the white lotus into the blue lotus, they are invited to make a journey to
Ajmeer.
Once there, they need only to go to the shores of the lake thrice blessed, named Pushkara, where every
pilgrim who bathes during the full moon time of the month of Krhktika (October-November) attains to the
highest sanctity, without other effort. There the sceptics would see with their own eyes the site where was
built the pyre of Rohita, and also the waters visited by Lakshmi in days of yore.
They might even have seen the blue lotuses, if most of these had not since been changed, thanks to a new
transformation decreed by the Gods, into sacred crocodiles which no one has the right to disturb. It is this
transformation which gives to nine out of every ten pilgrims who plunge into the waters of the lake, the
opportunity of entering into Nirvana almost immediately, and also causes the holy crocodiles to be the most
bulky of their kind.
A BEWITCHED LIFE
As Narrated by a Quill Pen
By H. P. Blavatsky
INTRODUCTION
It was a dark, chilly night in September, 1884. A heavy gloom had descended over the streets of A---, a
small town on the Rhine, and was hanging like a black funeral-pall over the dull factory burgh. The greater
number of its inhabitants, wearied by their long day's work, had hours before retired to stretch their tired
limbs, and lay their aching heads upon their pillows. All was quiet in the large house; all was quiet in the
deserted streets.
I too was lying in my bed; alas, not one of rest, but of pain and sickness, to which I had been confined for
some days. So still was everything in the house, that, as Longfellow has it, its stillness seemed almost
audible. I could plainly hear the murmur of the blood as it rushed through my aching body, producing that
monotonous singing so familiar to one who lends a watchful ear to silence. I had listened to it until, in my
nervous imagination, it had grown into the sound of a distant cataract, the fall of mighty waters . . . when,
suddenly changing its character, the evergrowing "singing" merged into other and far more welcome sounds.
A BEWITCHED LIFE 25
Nightmare Tales
It was the low, and at first scarce audible, whisper of a human voice. It approached, and gradually
strengthening seemed to speak in my very ear. Thus sounds a voice speaking across a blue quiescent lake, in
one of those wondrously acoustic gorges of the snow-capped mountains, where the air is so pure that a word
pronounced half a mile off seems almost at the elbow. Yes; it was the voice of one whom to know is to
reverence; of one, to me, owing to many mystic associations, most dear and holy; a voice familiar for long
years and ever welcome; doubly so in hours of mental or physical suffering, for it always brings with it a ray
of hope and consolation. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]