Where Shri Stays

Yudhishthira asked Bhishma where Shri always lives, and Bhishma answered with something a queen had once asked her.

Rukmini was in Krishna's hall, under the banner with the eagle on it, and the goddess was beside her. Shri sat there with a face like the moon and the glow of a lotus on her skin, so bright that the queen could not look at anything else. And Rukmini, who was a queen and could ask, asked.

"Whom do you stay with? And whom do you pass by?"

Shri answered her gently, and she began with men.

"I stay with the man who speaks well and gets up early. The one who is at his work. The one who does not fly into a rage. The one who thanks people. The one who keeps hold of himself, and who thinks large. The man who does the duty of his station, who serves the old, whose heart is clean, who forgives, and who does a thing when it needs doing instead of later."

"And a woman?"

"The woman who forgives. Who keeps herself in hand. Who tells the truth. Who honours the gods and her husband. Who is well mannered, well dressed, pleasant to look at and pleasant to listen to, and good at what she turns her hand to."

"And the house?"

"The house where the fire is fed. Where the cow is looked after, and the brahmin, and the gods are given their offerings when the season comes round. I am in that house."

Rukmini waited, and the goddess went on, because there was more.

"I rest in other things too. In a cart and in the oxen that pull it. In a girl. In an ornament, in fine cloth, in a sacrifice. In a rain cloud. In a lotus that has opened all the way. In the stars of autumn. In an elephant, and in the cow pen, and in a good seat. In a lake with lotuses on it, in a river that runs sweet between trees, with cranes on its banks and sages beside it, and in a deep river that lions and elephants have muddied with their bathing. In a bull. In a king on his throne. In a good man."

"And whom do you leave?"

"The man who neglects his work. The disbeliever. The ungrateful. The unclean. The man who is harsh or cruel with his tongue. The thief. The one who hates his teacher. The one with no energy, no strength and no honour. The one who is upset by every small thing, and the one who is always angry. The one whose face says one thing and whose hands do another. And the man who never tries for anything, and is content with a little, and calls it peace."

"And a woman?"

"The woman who lets the stores run out and does not notice. Who talks against her husband's wishes. Who is always at someone else's house. Who has no modesty. Who is unclean. Who has no patience. Who loves a quarrel. Who sleeps too much, and is always lying down. I do not stay in that house, however rich it is."

The queen was quiet for a while.

"And where are you always?"

"In Narayana," said Shri. "There I stay, in my own body. Righteousness is in him in full, and devotion to brahmins, and kindness. Everywhere else I come and go. Could I say I am not in all the things I named? No. But there I never move."

Then she said the last thing, and Bhishma kept it for Yudhishthira. Whoever she lives in, even in spirit, grows: in righteousness, in fame, in wealth, and in whatever he has set his heart on.

Yudhishthira had asked a different question: what shows that someone is about to rise, or to fall. Bhishma told him about a morning on the Ganga.

Narada had come to bathe where the river leaves the pass called Dhruva, and Indra came to the same bank. They sat and talked of the old sages until the sun came up, and stood to greet it.

A second light was coming from the other side of the sky.

It grew as they watched. It was a woman on Vishnu's own mount, with the dancers of heaven round her, bright as the disc of the sun. Indra put his hands together and bowed, and Narada after him.

"Lady of the sweet smile," said Indra, "who are you, and what has brought you here?"

"I am Padma. I was born on a lotus when the sun's rays touched it. They call me Lakshmi, and Bhuti, and Shri. Faith lives in me, and intelligence, and victory, and patience, and memory. I stay with the king who wins and keeps his law, with the warrior who does not turn his back, with everyone who holds to virtue and truth. I stayed with the Danavas while they were bound by it. I have left them."

"What did you see among them, that you left?"

"I saw what they were," she said. "Their houses were clean. They honoured their teachers, their guests and their ancestors. They served the brahmins and told the truth. They held their anger. They gave. They rose early and ate only after they had fed others. Greed did not touch them, nor sloth, nor envy. I was at home there."

"And then?"

"And then it turned. The young mocked the old. Sons gave orders to fathers. Money got by wrong was honoured. The fires went low, the gods and the ancestors went without. Parents were put out of the house. The learned were ignored and the ignorant went unpunished. They laughed at anyone in trouble. I will not stay in a house like that, and so I have come. Receive me with honour, Indra. No one sent me. I came of myself."

"You are welcome," said Indra, and Narada said it after him.

"I do not come alone. Seven goddesses who depend on me want to live where I live: Hope, Faith, Intelligence, Contentment, Victory, Advancement and Forgiveness. Jaya is the eighth, and she goes first. All of them have left the asuras with me."

A wind came along the river and carried a scent across the sky. The gods gathered and watched Indra drive up in his chariot with Shri beside him, and Narada said aloud that this was a good day.

It was. The rains came in their season, the earth gave up its jewels, the Veda was sung again, the cows gave sweet milk, and harsh words went out of people's mouths. These, Bhishma said, are the signs: what a person keeps, and what they let go.