The King Who Slept for a Million Years
I love stories. Folklore, where word of mouth gets built upon, layer by layer, character by character, generation by generation.
While folk stories are interpreted as virtues and vices among modern humans, ancient stories and other folklore came with a belief system that these events in these stories happened for real. Since there was no written word back in the day, and all folklore spread via word-of-mouth, the difference between timelines and time elapsed in folklore was way off.
In my spare time, I always read stories. My childhood past time was listening to stories my brother used to narrate. Perhaps that is what sparked my interest in writing, in conducting Dungeons and Dragons, make stories accessible to as many as possible. Many have caught my eye but one is always on the top of my head.
I am a chronic insomniac. It is not a stretch to say that my whole life revolves around making sure I get some sleep at night. Much like dog owners who tire their furry canines to exhaustion to ensure they get a good night’s sleep, so do I exercise, play the guitar, write, edit, read, cycle, and do many things to ensure I am physically and mentally exhausted, enough to collapse.
It is said we are attracted to stories about things we aspire for. In my case it is a story about sleep. This one here is about a king who slept for millions of years (metaphorically) from Indian mythology.
A constant beauty about Indian mythology is its audacious characters. Never afraid to push limits, never afraid to experiment, never afraid to make gallant claims, the likes of which are used to please children, as inspirations for various high-fantasy stories, and even going so far as to construct political narratives.
Raja Muchukunda
One such story is that of Raja Muchukunda. Raja in many Indian languages means King. And Muchukunda was a gallant king who came to rescue the very heavens. A human who fought and defended the gods.
The Devas (deities) and the Asuras (demons) were constantly at war. There probably isn’t a single epic in Indian mythology that does not reference this ceaseless conflict. Many times the Devas win, and so do the Asuras.
In one such conflict, the Devas were outnumbered, and were on the verge of defeat when they asked Raja Muchukunda, a king of the Ikshvaku Dynasty to fight on their side. The king obliged and agreed to hold the ground until there was an able commander on the side of the gods. A vacuum eventually filled by Karthikeya — a god who is considered the Indian God of War.
Centuries passed. The conflict dragged onto thousands of years and Muchukunda was tired of the war, but still he fought on. The gods were dependent on him and so once Karthikeya came, they thanked him profusely and made him aware of his own predicament.
Curiously, in Indian mythology, there was always this belief that time works differently across realms. A year in the realm of the gods is equivalent to many years in the realm of the humans. And in Muchukunda’s case, he was way past his time.
The gods told him that since he had been fighting for so long in the realm of the gods, eons had passed on the earth. Everything he owned, everything he knew, everyone he loved had already passed on. There was no life for him back on earth, but the gods could not provide moksha (salvation) as it is the prize of intense penance or the best of Karma.
But the king had a great idea. And this idea is why this story is my favourite. Given that he was tired from centuries-old battle, Raja Muchukunda asked a boon from the Devas as recompense for all the fighting he did. He asked that he be allowed to sleep undisturbed, for the rest of his remaining years. Anyone who woke him up would be instantly burnt by his gaze.
Some folklore say that he attained moksha and other folklore talk about the one time he woke up from his slumber. And it is here that things get most interesting.
King Muchukunda, according to Indian mythology, is an ancestor of Sri Rama. This was Treta Yuga, the second in the four ages of humankind in Hindu mythology. When he wakes up, it is already the third age, Dwapara Yuga. Many thousand years have elapsed during his slumber.
Muchukunda’s waking up is also serendipitous with another story of the slaying of Kalayavana. An arrogant king who had a boon not to be destroyed by traditional means of destruction, weapon, skills etc.
When Lord Krishna finds out that he cannot beat Kalayavana one on one, he resorts to leveraging Muchukunda’s gift. After an intense battle, Lord Krishna leads Kalayavana to Muchukunda’s cave and hides in a dark corner. Kalayavana upon seeing the slumbering old king mistakes him to be the hiding form of Krishna and in his characteristic arrogance, wakes him up. And lo and behold, the moment Muchukunda opens his eyes, Kalayavana is reduced to ashes. Muchukunda walks out of his cave, notices the flora and fauna have reduced in size significantly, which symbolises his slumber through the many years.
Lord Krishna, in his all-seeing wisdom, identifies Muchukunda, and advises him to seek salvation through penance for his kind of power would be an anomaly in a world that no longer had the place for it.
This is merely the simple version. There is a simplicity in it that made the story propagate through word of mouth so effortlessly. What I personally love about this story are the many morals, ethics, and lessons of life.
Folklore as a parable for real life
Many a time in life, we are called upon to perform deeds that are beyond our remit. Many a time you spend your entire life behind something with a single-minded fervour. Sometimes this may not yield the results that you expect. Sometimes it may cause you to lose everything you have. This is a parable for how you may just be a cog in a grand cycle of life, an important link that serves to ensure that the universe lives on. That goodness prevails. It is easy to think of it as someone who is used to his/her maximum abilities and then placated simply. But the pillars upon which humankind stands, and nay, the world stands have been the actions of a few selfless individuals.
Muchukunda is the embodiment of this selfless service. A paragon of virtue. Of warfare, of holding the fort when the gods themselves couldn’t. What is interesting about this story is that it almost exclusively focuses on the selflessness. It could have been easy to have extolled his war exploits. But that was not the objective.
A lot of tales appear different when you look at them retrospectively. As does this one with the many interpretations of it. But there is very little mention of the conflict. Instead, it serves to give a message that sometimes, just sometimes, you are here just to be a bridge for someone to cross. Sometimes your greatest glory lies in accepting your role as a conduit for an abstraction like the greater good. Even though you may never get to see the fruits of your actions. Such is the beauty of the whole Krishnavatara.
We always look to the Bhagavad Gita as the ultimate articulation of Karma Yoga. Where actions should be performed without a desire for their outcomes. Where you sow the seeds and water the plants without the expectations of its fruits.
But the same morals lie in these tiny tales. The same ideas perpetuated through something as simple as sidequests in a videogame. Where the biggest lessons are handed down in small chunks. Where the greatest good is in accepting the action itself without even understanding its outcomes. And none of these are mere parables. Instead they are full stories, complete with a three-part structure that tell you exactly what is what.
This is the intention of folklore which a lot of people miss and even misinterpret. Folklore IS intended to provide black and white goalposts. It is moving beyond the shades of grey and letting a reader or listener understand and interpret the in-between to glean all lessons from it.
In the end, if I were to look at the in-between, Muchukunda is representative of a significant portion of humanity. Of the many people unable to communicate because they don’t understand this world anymore. A world that went by the wayside while they were busy in the slumber of building their livelihoods. A world that moved on while they were left behind. A swirling mass of ideas, opinions, and hatred which humanity is unable to digest. There are parables, there are goalposts, and a mass of humanity left behind. What is our salvation? What will be our undoing? Only the centuries will tell.
