Bal Kanda
Analysis
In the Bālakāṇḍa, the story of Vishwamitra’s yajña is described in detail. From the eighteenth to the twenty-fourth canto, there are five places that require deeper reflection. Before starting on these five places, we need to understand Vishwamitra’s intention and the meaning of the story itself. Let’s first grasp this meaning briefly. Once we understand it, the discussion of those five places becomes easier.
Look at the word Vishwamitra. It is made of two words—Vishwa and Mitra. It means “one who is friendly to all,” a mind that becomes friendly toward everyone. Maitrī means love. So the meaning is: a mind that becomes loving toward everyone. But becoming loving and friendly toward everyone is not a simple thing—it’s extremely difficult. Yet a mind that truly desires this, that holds a deep longing to be loving toward all, naturally makes many efforts in that direction. It keeps trying again and again.
But the story says that even after making many efforts, this mind—which wants friendship with all—still cannot complete its practice. It keeps performing its vow of becoming loving toward everyone, but two demons keep interrupting it again and again. These two demons are our own attachments and ego. As long as we identify ourselves as the body, these two inner demons—attachment and ego—don’t allow us to remain loving toward all, no matter how hard we try.
So how can our vow of universal friendliness and universal love be fulfilled?
The story says: Ram must be brought along. And as we have repeated many times, “Ram” means settling firmly in self-knowledge. Establishing oneself in self-knowledge means understanding that “I am the Self,” and seeing the body only as a tool—using it as an instrument while remaining its master. This is self-knowledge. When we keep this self-knowledge with us—when we keep Ram with us—then our yajña, our vow of loving everyone, becomes possible. Without being established in self-knowledge, without keeping Ram with us, this vow cannot be completed.
So this story of Vishwamitra teaches two things. First, Vishwamitra represents a very elevated state of consciousness—a highly refined mind. Ordinary people like us may not yet have the strong longing to remain loving toward all. But a mind in which this desire awakens intensely—a mind that longs deeply to be loving toward all—is indeed a noble, superior mind. And such a noble mind possesses many qualities. The story describes those qualities through symbolic narration.
Whenever scriptures want to speak of subtle inner truths, they do not convey them directly. They use poetic, symbolic style. The entire Ramayana speaks in such symbolic language.
While reading, we encountered five places that need deeper understanding. Let us now take these five one by one.
The first place: When Dasharatha says he cannot send Ram, Vashishtha replies that he should not worry and should send Ram with Vishwamitra. Why? Because Vishwamitra possesses many “weapons.” Now what does this mean?
The story describes that Prajapati Daksha had two daughters, Jaya and Suprabha. They were married to Krishashva, and from them arose a hundred excellent sons, called weapons.
How can “sons” become weapons? Obviously this is symbolic. It refers to the competent mind. Daksha represents skillfulness—dakṣa means efficiency. And prajāpati means “lord of the prajā,” meaning the mind is lord over the countless thoughts that arise within it. In the symbolic language of the scriptures, prajā means thoughts.
In the scriptures, putra (son) represents a quality, and putrī (daughter) represents a special attribute. Jaya means “one who gives victory,” and Suprabha means “one who gives radiance or beauty.” Together they show that a skillful mind has two great attributes: it brings success in actions, and it enhances the beauty of one’s personality.
Krishashva is formed from krish (weak) and ashva (the horse-like senses). It means the senses have become weak—they no longer dominate the mind; instead, the mind governs the senses. When the mind gains mastery over the senses, it gains new strength. Then many qualities arise within it—these are the “hundred sons.” The number hundred is symbolic—it simply means “many.”
These qualities include things like selflessness, fearlessness, innocence, service, cooperation, surrender, acceptance. In the Bhagavata Purāṇa, Daksha’s daughters have names like Shraddha, Maitri, Daya, Shanti, Tusti, Pusti, Buddhi, Medha, Hrī—qualities. So, the story is saying that Vishwamitra—the consciousness that longs for universal love—possesses many great qualities. These qualities are his “weapons.”
That completes the first place.
The second place: In Canto 22 we read about two knowledges—Bala and Atibala. What could these be?
A mind that wants to be loving toward all makes many efforts. To stay loving toward many people requires qualities. From experience, two qualities make universal friendliness possible: acceptance and forgiveness.
If we accept everyone exactly as they are—good or bad, virtuous or lacking—without trying to change them, love naturally becomes steady. If we reject people—“you should be like this, you should not be like that”—love cannot be sustained.
Forgiveness is equally important. People differ by nature; no two are alike. When we understand this and forgive their faults, our loving attitude remains intact.
So Bala and Atibala may symbolize acceptance and forgiveness. But the story also gives five indicators of these powers:
One feels no fatigue.
One does not experience fever.
One’s form does not become distorted.
Even in carelessness, demons cannot attack.
One does not feel the suffering of hunger and thirst.
If acceptance and forgiveness fill the mind, the mind becomes light; a light mind leads to a light body. When the mind is not heavy, it does not feel fatigue. “Fever” here points to anger—anger heats the mind and body. Acceptance and forgiveness prevent anger. “No distortion of form” hints at freedom from tension—stress distorts one’s appearance over time. When the mind remains relaxed, one’s form stays calm. “Demons” refer to negative thoughts; acceptance and forgiveness prevent negative thoughts from invading. And “no hunger or thirst” refers to the mind’s endless dissatisfaction. Acceptance brings contentment.
So Bala and Atibala symbolize these two powerful attitudes—acceptance and forgiveness—always present in a Vishwamaitri mind.
The third place: Ram, on reaching the Ganga–Sarayu confluence, sees a sacred ashram. What does this symbolize?
The body itself is an ashram. The story wants to say that the body never obstructs our ability to be loving toward all. The misunderstanding that the body is an obstacle is corrected here—the body is a sacred place, because the Self (Shiva) dwells within it. The story of Shiva burning Kama symbolizes a time when the mind was joined with the Self. When the mind is grounded in the Self, craving cannot attack.
Two rivers, Ganga and Sarayu, flow within this body. Ganga represents knowledge—wisdom that helps us respond to life. Sarayu represents the remembrance of the Self. Together they flow within us. That inner confluence is this sacred ashram.
Ganga is called Tripathaga—flowing through three realms: the higher realms, the mind, and the subconscious (the worlds of samskaras). Knowledge must descend into the mind and then into the subconscious to cleanse it.
The fourth place: The loud sound caused by the meeting of the two rivers—Sarayu and Ganga. Vishwamitra says this sound arises from their confluence, and Ram should simply keep his mind steady.
Symbolically: Ganga (knowledge) says “choose the good, avoid the bad.” Sarayu (supreme knowledge) says “everything is divine; nothing should be rejected.” These two teachings appear contradictory. Until consciousness rises high enough, this contradiction creates inner turmoil—the “loud sound.” The teaching is: do not get entangled in this contradiction too early. Keep the mind steady. Understanding will come with maturity.
The fifth place: Malada and Karusha. Here, Malada refers to the conscious mind. The “impurity” covering it is Vritrasura, representing the contradiction between thought, speech, and action—when we think one thing, say another, and do something else. When the conscious mind drops this inconsistency, it becomes pure. The Vishwamaitri mind always rests on such purity.
Thus the story describes five qualities of the Vishwamaitri mind:
It is filled with many virtue-weapons.
It possesses the powers of acceptance and forgiveness.
It sees the body as a sacred dwelling.
It does not get lost in the conflict between knowledge and supreme knowledge.
It rests on a pure, consistent mind.