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drinking and shot the arrow. I am a Kshatriya. Hunting is enjoined on me by my religion.’
    ‘You dare talk of religion to me, an ascetic under vow. I am a Brahmachari. Tell me the truth. Have not your lips been sullied by contact with those of a woman. You can touch my feet only if you are pure in that respect.’
    I dared not tell a lie. The memory of my passionately kissing Alaka that night was vivid before my eyes. This ascetic must be omniscient and he would at once know whether I was telling the truth. He would blast me with a curse. I hung down my head. The yogi harshly named me a profligate.
    The yogi said, ‘I have no time to waste on a degenerate person like you. In the early hours after midnight, I finish my morning ritual and sit in prayer.’ I knelt before him, folded my hands and said, ‘Sire, I crave your blessing.’
    ‘I am not simple like Lord Shiva to bless anyone and everyone. How can I bless you without knowing who you are?’
    ‘I am a Prince.’
    ‘Then you are unworthy of a blessing.’
    ‘Why?’ I asked in trepidation.
    ‘Because you are a slave to your body. The greater the status, the greater the degradation of the soul. Every moment he succumbs to the animal pleasures. He enjoys to his fill the fragrance of flowers and the perfume of scents. He rules over his subjects but is ruled by his senses. A woman is the epitome of all pleasures, that is why we ascetics look upon her as utterly forbidden. Prince, go your way. If you wish to be blessed by me, renounce all worldly things and come to me. Then ...’
    ‘But, Sire, I have promised that I shall never turn an ascetic.’
    ‘Why?’ asked the ascetic in curiosity.
    ‘My elder brother ran away as a child to renounce the world. Mother has still not forgotten her grief.’
    ‘You are ...’ ‘Yayati of Hastinapur.’ ‘Your brother?’ ‘Yati.’
    ‘Follow me,’ said the ascetic and started off. A little later when he looked back, I had not moved. He said a little softly, ‘Yayati, your elder brother is asking you to follow him.’
    Fear, like hope, prompts all kinds of ideas. I had met Yati for the first time. I should have been glad at the unexpected meeting. But I was chilled by his words. I did not know what to say to him in his cave.
    We soon arrived there. It was a straggling cave with its opening covered by thorns. It was when Yati pushed them aside that I realised it was a cave. A tiger growled. I instinctively put my hand to the bow and arrow. Yati turned back and smiled. He said, ‘No, that has no use here. He growled because he smelt your presence. Otherwise he lies here like a rabbit. I make friends of wild beasts wherever I go. They are purer than human beings.’
    Yati patted the tiger’s head and it started playing with him like a kitten.
    We were now well in the interior of the cave. There was an unusual glow of light there. I looked round and saw masses of fireflies. There was a cobra quietly curled up in every corner, with the jewel in its hood sparkling. To the right, Yati pointed to his bed.
    I looked down. A small stone served for pillow and the thorny creepers at the entrance served for a mattress. I shuddered that Yati slept in such a bed. He was my elder brother. Why had he renounced all the royal pleasures for this kind of life? What pleasure was there in it? What was Yati going to gain in the end? What was he in search of?
    Yati picked up a deerskin lying near the bed and spread it on the uneven ground for me to sit on. He himself sat on his thorny bed.
    Yati’s philosophy of life and the cave had deadened my feelings. Otherwise, on my meeting him for the first time, I would have embraced him, wept on his shoulder and insisted on taking him to Hastinapur to meet Mother. But as if aware that this was not possible, I sat there like a dumb animal.
    Then for something to say, I said, ‘Mother will be very happy to see you.’
    ‘There is only one abiding happiness in life ... eternal happiness. Worldly