The King Who Was Forgotten

The sages told the Pandavas of King Indradyumna, who dwelt in heaven for his good deeds but was cast out when his fame was forgotten on earth - and of his strange search among the oldest beings of the world to find one who still remembered him. It is a tale of the fleetingness of fame and the lasting power of good deeds.

King Indradyumna had been a great and righteous king, famous in his day for his charity and his sacrifices, and for these merits he had gone, after his life on earth, to dwell in heaven among the blessed, enjoying the reward of his good deeds for a vast span of years. But one day the king was suddenly cast out from heaven and sent back down to earth. For it was said to him that the merit which had earned him his place was now exhausted, because his fame had faded from the world below: no one upon the earth any longer remembered him or spoke of his good deeds, and where a man's fame has wholly died, his place in heaven cannot endure.

The king was told that he might keep his place in heaven if he could find even one being still living upon the earth who remembered him and his deeds; but if none remembered him at all, then his fame was truly dead and his place was forfeit. So Indradyumna came down to the earth to search for someone old enough to remember him, for he had dwelt so long in heaven that ages had passed below.

He came first to the most ancient and long-lived sage that he knew of - the deathless Markandeya, who had lived through ages beyond counting. 'Revered one,' said the king, 'do you remember me? Do you know of King Indradyumna and his deeds?' But Markandeya, old as he was, searched his long memory and answered, 'No, O King, I do not remember you, nor have I heard of your deeds. But there is one older than I: an owl named Pravarakarna, who has lived longer than any man. Go and ask him; perhaps he will remember.' And so the king's strange search began, from the oldest sage to a creature older still.

The sage Markandeya himself went with the king to the dwelling of the ancient owl, Pravarakarna, a creature so old that he had outlived the memory of the deathless sage. They came to the owl and asked him, 'Do you remember King Indradyumna? Do you know of his deeds?'

The ancient owl thought long, searching a memory older than the sage's, and at last answered, 'No, I do not remember this king, nor have I heard of his deeds. But I am not the oldest of living things. There is one older than I: a crane named Nadijangha, who dwells by a certain lake, and who has lived longer than I have. Go and ask him; it may be that he remembers.' So the search went on, from the deathless sage to the ancient owl, and now from the owl to a crane older still - each of the world's long-lived beings sending the king on to one older than himself, and none yet remembering the king who had once been so famous.

They came then to the crane Nadijangha, older even than the owl, and asked him whether he remembered King Indradyumna. But the crane too, searching his still longer memory, said, 'No, I do not remember him. But there is one older than I, the oldest of all living things that I know: a great tortoise named Akupara, who dwells in the depths of this very lake, and who has lived longer than any of us. Let us ask him; if any remembers, it will be he.'

So they called up from the deep waters the ancient tortoise Akupara, the oldest of all, and put to him the question: 'Do you remember King Indradyumna and his deeds?' And the old tortoise, hearing the name, was moved, and tears came to his eyes; for he did remember. 'Indradyumna!' he said. 'Yes, I remember him well, and his good deeds; for I have cause to remember them all my long life. This very lake in which I have dwelt through all these ages - this lake was made by King Indradyumna himself.'

The ancient tortoise told how he remembered the king. 'In his day upon the earth,' said Akupara, 'King Indradyumna performed a great sacrifice and gave away cows in charity beyond all counting - so vast a multitude of cattle that as they were driven away from the place of giving, the countless tread of their hooves wore a great hollow in the earth; and that hollow filled with water and became this very lake, in whose depths I have lived through all these ages. So I remember the king, and his boundless charity; for I have dwelt all my life in the lake that his good deeds made, and my whole long life is a witness to them.'

So at last, when the deathless sage and the ancient owl and the long-lived crane had all forgotten him, the oldest being of all remembered the king - and remembered him not for his name or his fame, which had faded, but for the lasting mark his good deeds had left upon the world: a lake, made by the hooves of the cattle of his charity, enduring through all the ages after the king's very name had been forgotten. His fame had died, but the good he had done remained, written into the earth itself.

By the witness of the ancient tortoise, who remembered the king through the lasting deed he had done, it was established that King Indradyumna was not wholly forgotten upon the earth after all: for though his name and fame had faded from the memory of men, the good he had done endured still, in the lake his charity had made, and in the memory of the oldest being who lived in it. And so his merit was found not to be exhausted; the lasting fruit of his good deeds still bore witness for him.

And by this the king was restored. A celestial chariot came down for him, and he was carried back up to heaven, his place secured - not by the empty fame that had faded, but by the enduring good he had done, which outlasted his fame and spoke for him when his name was forgotten. The deeds themselves, and the lasting marks they had left in the world, were what truly bore him up; and so the king who had been cast out for the death of his fame was restored by the life of his good works.

There was in the tale a teaching that the sages were careful to draw out, about the nature of fame and of good deeds. For the king had learned that fame is a fleeting thing: that even the greatest renown fades and dies in time, that the names of the famous are forgotten as the ages pass, and that to lean upon fame, or to do good for the sake of being remembered, is to build upon something that will surely crumble. The deathless sage himself had forgotten the once-famous king; so fleeting is the memory of the world.

But the good deeds themselves do not fade as fame fades. The lake the king had made endured when his name was gone; the good he had done remained, a lasting mark upon the world, when the renown of it had died. So the tale taught that one should do good not for the fame it brings, which is fleeting, but for the good itself, which endures; that the true and lasting fruit of a righteous life is not the praise of men, which passes, but the good done and the lasting benefit left behind, which remains and bears witness even when every tongue that praised it has fallen silent.

The sages drew the lessons of the tale for the Pandavas.

'See, first, the fleetingness of fame. King Indradyumna had been famous through all the earth, and was cast out of heaven when his fame was forgotten; and in his search even the deathless sage and the most ancient creatures had forgotten him, so wholly had his renown faded with the ages. The tale teaches that fame is the most fleeting of things, that the names of even the greatest are forgotten in time, and that to do good for the sake of fame, or to lean upon renown, is to build upon what will surely pass away. Do not, then, set your heart on being remembered, for the memory of the world is short.

'And see what truly endures: not fame, but the good deeds themselves. The king was forgotten, but the lake his charity had made remained, and bore witness for him when his name was gone, and restored him to heaven. So the lasting fruit of a righteous life is the good done and the benefit left behind, which outlasts all fame. Do good, then, not for the praise of men, which fades, but for the good itself, which endures; and let your works, not your renown, be your lasting monument. For the deed remains when the fame is forgotten, and it is the deed that bears you up in the end.'

And the Pandavas, who would win great fame and know how quickly the world's praise can turn and fade, took to heart the tale of the king remembered not by his fame but by his enduring good.