To The Mountain of White Flower

The Himalayas, India

Lord Parashurama called Gorakshak early. He usually met Gorakshak after having discussed religious and spiritual methods with the older sages. Parashurama would call him under the large banyan in the courtyard and ask him about his spiritual advancement. An elaborate discussion would ensue that the other sages would often gather to listen. Gorakshak often wondered if he was still in modern times!

Today as the news of an early invitation to Gorakshak spread, the sages started gathering around the Banyan. Today, however, Parashurama wasn’t at the Banyan. He had invited Gorakshak in his own hut.

Gorakshak was excited by the invitation. It was the first time that he would enter the sage’s hut. The hut had always looked a little bigger than the others’. It planted a doubt about the sage’s concept of equality that many secretly shared, but no one asked. Today, however, the doubts resolved as Gorkshak entered the hut. It was almost bare, except a mat, some clothes and his battle axe. It was built higher just to accommodate Parashurama. He was a huge man!

As Gorakshak entered, Parashurama asked him to sit. He was pacing along the small window on the other end of the hut. Gorakshak sat reluctantly.

“Gorakshak! What is my age?” Parashurama had a deep, grave voice.

‘What kind of question is this?’ Gorakshak thought in his mind. He contemplated for a while and answered. “My Lord! You are known to be an immortal”

“Touch me!” Parashuram said.

Gorakshak looked at him. He looked serious about what he said. Gorakshak touched his shoulder mildly. A chill spread through his body. He couldn’t touch Parahurama. He had no skin – all he could feel was a pressure, as if he had touched the surface of water. He withdrew his hands immediately.

Parashurama laughed loudly.

“It isn’t that I’m immortal.  I just don’t live as you do.” He said.

“I immolate myself every two months. This skin of mine is the material belongingness that gathers in these two months. I free myself of all the burdens and roam freely for a month before I build an Ashram – for the benefit of the sages, just to immolate it again.”

Gorakshak was too stunned to respond.

Parashurama continued. “Today is my last day. All the ascetics would leave by the afternoon. By the evening everything you see around you would be in flames. I will set myself free.”

Gorakshak looked around. He couldn’t believe what the sage was saying.

“Where should I go?” An involuntary question of his thought came loud on his lips.

There was a smile on Parashurama’s face. “I want your company Gorakshak! I won’t go alone this time.” He was looking straight into Goraakshak’s eyes.

“I want to purify you for a special journey together.”

Parashurama’s eyes were intense. Gorakshak closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run. The sage was asking him for what the world would consider a suicide.

“Where is the journey to?” He said in a trembling voice.

Parashurama replied in a clear and loud voice.

 “To the mountain of white flower.”