Daily Theosophy

Praja taught them a lot of things (because Praja had a mind – and a very good one too). And they would learn all that Praja taught them, but they couldn’t invent anything by themselves – because they could not contain ideas.

(20)

(Praja’s Son)

Then suddenly Praja’s dream turned into a nightmare. Because her body was made of soft material it could readily dry out, and for that reason she liked to spend much time in bath in her own bath-house. And suddenly she felt lonely – very lonely – and she had never had that feeling before. There in that bath was nobody. There was nobody to love, and nobody who loved her.

She was intelligent enough to understand why she was so lonely. She felt as if half of herself was missing. The reason was that, sometime before, near the highest mountain, she had seen a figure standing by whom she was very much impressed. He looked somewhat like a human being, but was much more beautiful and kind than any human being we know in our time.

He was always deep in thought, meditation, thinking deeply about the universe and everything in it. His only wish was to understand the universe and all living beings. He was so deeply immersed in his meditation – which was greater and higher than any form of thinking – that he hardly ever opened his eyes. Since Praja had seen him, she could not remove him from her mind. He was so beautiful, so astounding, so shining with wisdom! As a true ascetic he was wearing no cloths, had no possessions and his hairs were like the rays of the sun. His skin was white like moonstone. Whatever she was doing, her thoughts went to him. This doesn’t look like a nightmare, does it? She knew that only he could help her, and that only together they could help all the other creatures – all of whom were so stupid that many of them couldn’t even help themselves. 

Her feelings were only love. But. That beautiful manlike creature who was like a pillar of light on the mountain that reached all the way up to heaven and beyond, was not interested in her at all. She tried everything, but he did not even want to look at her, because that was disturbing his meditation. Secretly he loved her also, but because of his absolutely austere life (in fact he was a yogi) he gave no attention to his feelings for her, let alone that he would allow himself sexual feelings. Praja, on the other hand, desired to have a son of him, but however much she pleaded, he didn’t move, and she felt herself become sadder and sadder. She could not explain why she had these feelings of love and sadness – she had never felt them before. Because boys and girls and man and women didn’t really exist at that time, Praja was also not really a woman – that is to say, she had everything manly also, hidden within herself. One day, when she was again in her bath, she could not bear her desire for a son any longer. She took some sweat of her body – which had a lovely smell like the most sublime and subtle perfume – and she molded it into the shape of a beautiful baby boy. This boy was her son, and because of her love for the yogi on the mountain (and his secret love for her), she regarded the boy as his child too. She called him Adiputra, which in her language means: “the first son ever.” Let’s call him Putra for short.

 … But had she known before what was destined to happen with her cute first-born human-like Putra, she might never had done this.

One day, when she was bathing again, Putra, who was now almost seven years old, and had grown into the most beautiful child that could not be equaled by any child in the many ages to come, was standing outside to protect his mother from possible intruders while she was taking her bath. That day he saw someone coming from far away from the direction of the high snowy mountain, someone he had never seen. It was like a light was descending from the mountain, a radiant pillar of light with no end on either side of the world. He was an ascetic of enormous power. But while coming closer he changed. He turned into a terrible man-monster with long black hairs.  He came straight to Praja’s house and demanded that he would be admitted inside.

But that the boy would never allow. He was there to protect his mother and he would defend her with his life and after. Imagine that he would have allowed that naked untidy ascetic into his mothers bathroom! Adiputra would rather die than leave this “man” inside his mother’s house. Then the ascetic became extremely angry – with an anger that could shake mountains, melt the snow, cause tsunami’s and burn all forests at once. First he tried to convince Putra with smooth words to let him in, but when that did not work he started shouting to the boy: “Let me through immediately, or I will fight with you.” But Putra, though only six, was very courageous. He was a real hero. And he just answered calmly: “Okay, you fight with me as hard as you can, but I will not let you in.” This irritated the ascetic beyond measure. He possessed tremendous powers: muscle power, will power, and intelligence power, because during his meditations he had studied the whole universe – and now there was nobody in the whole universe more powerful than he. But what he did not know is that Adiputra was in fact his own son, because he had declined to give attention to Praja, and was nearly as strong as he himself. Though he had never had sex with Praja, the thought streams of love had been so powerful that Putra had become like a son of his own mind. But, tragically, “father” and son did not recognize each other and they started fighting. They used all the power in the universe. And when it became clear to the ascetic that he could not win from the little boy in this way, he used his greatest violence: he took his sword and in one blow cut chopped of the beautiful and still smiling head of the boy.

At that moment Praja became aware from inside that some tumult was going on outside. When she had dressed and opened the door she at once saw her beloved not yet seven year old boy, the only son in the whole universe, laying on the ground, dead, and his head laying in the mud a few yards away from it. The body as well as the head of Putra were just as beautiful and shining and perfect as when he was alive. Only, he was not alive – he was dead.

Her beloved son, her beautiful son, the first son ever on earth, made and born from her own body, made perfect by her own hands, her consolation in loneliness … dead. She started crying and cried and cried. No joy of the world could have consoled her. Her tears filled oceans. And it was even worse. Next to the body stood the ascetic, naked, the bloody sword still in his hand, the killer – and he was the same man she loved. It was a nightmare compared to which every other nightmare is but a sweet dream. Good that it was only a nightmare. Or was it? Or was it real? She could find no consolation. Everything she had ever wished for and could ever wish for was now destroyed, dead – forever.

At least, that is what she thought. She asked him why he had done that, and he told the whole story of the obstinate boy not wanting to let him in. And she said: “Don’t you know that he was her own son?” When he realized that truth, he was shocked also. He felt great pity for her and for the boy now. He promised he would do whatever he could to bring the dead body to life again. But for that purpose it needed a new head.

At that time came from the North the most intelligent and strongest mammal on earth: an elephant, … and the head of the elephant cut off and placed on the trunk of Putra’s body.

At that very moment Praja woke up from her dream, and for a few moments after waking up she remembered a lovely boy with an elephant head, and she knew he could think very clearly and intelligently and that he would be a great help for all creatures that wanted to understand the world around them, and especially themselves. In a few seconds the image disappeared from her mind, but it left a good feeling – despite the nightmare she had just finished, but now forgotten.

Praja was now with her parents again. She felt happy and her parents smiled and nodded their heads – as if they knew everything of her dream she herself had already blissfully forgotten.

(21)

(The third dream of adi)

The Mind

Chapter 6

The Third Dream of Adi

The mind

Perhaps I should have called this third dream: “Nightmare Earth.” In the beginning it the dream seemed nice,