Mandan and Ubhayabharati

"Following is a beautiful, atmospheric piece. captures a very specific cultural and spiritual tension—the transition from the strict life of a Brahmachari (celibate) to the intimacy of a Grihastha (householder). The intellectual seduction through Shastra (scripture) is a fantastic narrative device. It is an extract from "Ubhayabharati" Novel by Nabakisore Raj - Originally written in Odia language. I thank the author for a such an wonderful creation. I wishtranslated extract will inspire all My Redears to explore the novel" - Gyana Ranjan

.....

Everyone in the family rejoiced at the proposal of marriage for Mandan.

Yet, Mandan had never truly looked upon Ubhayabharti. Though she occasionally visited her brother’s house, staying for a few days at a time, Mandan was bound by the strict instructions of his Gurudev: a Brahmachari must never look upon the face of a woman. Mandan followed this vow with unwavering discipline.

His only memory of her was the sight of her hurrying feet beneath a beautiful pink or blue ghagra. Those feet, painted with red alata and adorned with silver paaunji, reminded him of Devi Saraswati—she who is as vast as the rivers and greatest among the goddesses. He did not know why the sight of her feet stirred thoughts of the Goddess of Knowledge, but the connection remained deep in his soul.

Mandan was filled with a quiet excitement; he was to marry a woman who embodied the divine.

On the wedding day, Mandan looked every bit the prince. As the principal priest commenced the rituals, the air filled with the sacred vibration of the mantras:

“Mangala Bhagaban, Vishnu, Mangalo Madusudhana...”

One by one, the pious Vedic chants rose to bless the union. Finally, the moment of Panigrahan—the acceptance of the hand—arrived. Mandan’s hand was joined with Ubhayabharti’s, bound by a delicate thread of Kusa grass.

At the soft touch of her hand, Mandan’s heart began to race. A wave of confusion washed over him: was he falling under the influence of Maya for the rest of his life? Was this a descent or a beginning?

Prompted by the priest, Mandan repeated the solemn vow: “Oh, Great Nari, to seek a more fortunate path, I accept thee as my wife.”

Kumarila, Mandan’s Guru and Bharati’s brother, offered a prayer to Devi Aryama: “As a gourd is liberated from the bondage of its vine, we liberate this girl from our family, that she may become one with her husband’s house.”

With tearful eyes and a father’s blessing of joy and sweetness, the family bade farewell to Ubhayabharti.

---

Inside the bridal chamber, the sisters-in-law had transformed Ubhayabharti into a peerless beauty, seating her upon a bed of fresh flowers. Mandan stood outside, paralyzed by a nervousness he had never known. Only the playful prodding of his jovial sisters-in-law forced him into the room. As he entered, the door was locked behind him.

Ubhayabharti rose, her own heart fluttering. She bowed deeply to her husband, reaching down to touch his feet in respect. As Mandan reached out to lift her, Bharati felt his hands trembling. She smiled inwardly. Her brother had been right—though Mandan was now a husband, the soul of the strict celibate still reigned within him.

"Swami, kindly be seated," she requested softly, gesturing to the bed.

Mandan sat, though he kept a careful distance between them.

"Sit near me," she urged gently. "I am not 'another woman.' I am your wedded wife."

He moved a fraction closer, yet the invisible wall of his years of discipline remained. Bharati was wise; she understood that for a scholar who had spent his life in the Gurukul, the first step into intimacy was the hardest. She realized she must be the one to lead their journey.

"Swami," she began, her eyes sparkling with intelligence, "being a scholar, have you ever participated in a Shastra debate?"

"No," he replied simply.

"I am not as learned as you, but I have read a few scriptures. If you permit, could we begin a debate between us tonight?"

Mandan’s eyes lit up. This was a terrain he understood. It was a welcome escape from the overwhelming physical presence of a woman. "Yes," he replied, his voice gaining strength. "I am interested."

"I shall ask the questions," she proposed. "And you shall provide the answers."

"Agreed."

"Is it possible," she asked, "for a married person to maintain celibacy?"

"No," Mandan answered firmly. "A relationship with a woman ruins celibacy."

"A fair start," she smiled. "Now, elaborate on the meaning of this verse from the Manusmriti: 'Nindhyaswastasu chanyasu, Striyo rattrisu barjanam...'"

Mandan deciphered the Sanskrit with ease. "It means that by avoiding the first four nights of the cycle, as well as holy nights like Ekadasi and Trayodasi, a householder who courts his wife may still maintain the merit of his celibacy."

Bharati laughed lightly. "See? You have already defeated your own first answer. Now, the second question: Among Dharma, Artha, Kama, and Moksha, which is the most vital?"

"Dharma," he said without hesitation.

"Incorrect," she countered. "The universe is born of Kama—Desire. It is said, 'Kamastadgre Sambabartadhi.' Desire is the seed of all creation. It is not inferior; it is the starting point of all creativity. When desire becomes intense, it becomes a vow, and a vow can create worlds. Now, explain this verse from the Atharva Veda: 'Ye Trisapta Pariyante...'?"

Mandan pondered. "Trisapta... three and seven. Ten. Ten is the manifestation of all facets of the universe."

"Then tell me," she leaned in slightly, "how does the number ten manifest the whole universe? Explain it as if I am a layman, ignorant of the scrolls."

Mandan grew silent. The question seemed simple, yet it felt like a trap for his soul. Finally, he lifted his hands in surrender. "I cannot answer. You tell me."

"That is your third defeat," she teased softly. "The answer is in the figures: 1 and 0. The '1' represents the male element, and the '0' represents the female. Only in the union of the two is everything created."

"Bharati, where did you find such an explanation?" he asked, astonished.

"It is not in the Vedas," she admitted. "The Vedas deal in facts. This is a Tantric interpretation. Shall I ask the fourth?"

"You may."

"What is the origin of sexual pleasure?"

"I cannot say," Mandan whispered. "You explain."

"It originates from the Virata Purusha—the Supreme Man. Swami, if I am the Earth, what are you?"

"I am the Sky."

"If I am the Voice?"

"I am the Mind."

"If I am Devotion?"

"Then I am Truth."

"If I am the Rig Veda?"

"I am the Sama Veda."

"Then what is the meaning of 'Yoni Sariram'?"

"That from the female organ, the body takes birth," he replied, his voice thick with realization.

"Exactly," she said. "The Yoni is not impure. It is through the divine union with his wife that a husband begets life itself."

Mandan found himself leaning closer, his nervousness replaced by a deep, intellectual hunger. "May I ask you something now?"

"Without hesitation," she replied.

"It is said Man is independent and Woman is dependent. Why?"

"Both are dependent on each other," she corrected him. "A man is incomplete without a woman. A woman, through her support and beauty, completes the man. We are like the string and the Veena. Without the string, the instrument is silent. Without the wheel, the chariot stands still. Love is happiness; where women are respected, the Gods themselves dwell."

Mandan was silent for a long time. He looked at his wife and saw not a distraction from his path, but the very path itself. "I have spent years being told never to look at a woman, never to laugh with one. I was told woman is fire and man is fuel."

"There is no harm in that," she replied softly. "For the Kalika Purana says that the entire world is created of sacred fire."

"You have defeated me in this debate," Mandan said, a smile finally breaking across his face. "But in this defeat, I feel only pride."

Bharati saw the shift in his eyes—the scholar had finally met the husband. With love in her eyes, she asked, "My love, would you like to taste honey?"

"Where is the honey?" he asked.

"Honey lies upon the lips of a woman," she whispered, "and salt within her eyes."

Mandan reached out and drew Bharati into his arms. She surrendered to him completely, coiling around him like a trailing vine finding its strength in a great tree.