The Aghori Ascetic & The Transmigrated Soul

For the twenty-third time, Emperor Vikramaditya braved the howling tempest and flashing lightning of the Mahashmashana, hoisting Betal upon his shoulder in steadfast silence.

Betal began: 'In the beautiful city of Shobhavati, the citizens rejoiced in the benevolent rule of their virtuous and handsome young prince.'

Yet who can alter the decree of destiny? In the full blossom of his youth, a sudden illness claimed the life of the radiant prince.

In the cremation ground, the unblemished body of the young prince was placed upon a bier of fragrant sandalwood, surrounded by his weeping parents, his grief-stricken bride, and mourning citizens.

Beneath an ancient banyan tree in a corner of the cremation grounds sat an aged Aghori yogi—emaciated, smeared with sacred ash, his withered body decrepit from ninety years of severe austerities.

Through decades of intense yogic concentration, this hermit had mastered *Parakaya Pravesha*—the rare occult Siddhi of projecting his consciousness and life-force into another body!

Beholding the flawless, youthful physique of the deceased prince, the yogi realized this was the perfect vessel to abandon his crumbling body and experience renewed life.

Assuming the sacred Padmasana posture, the yogi withdrew his senses, gathering his vital energies to initiate the occult transference.

Yet just before releasing his soul, the old hermit broke into deep, sorrowful weeping, heavy tears streaming down his weathered cheeks.

And in the very next breath, his sorrow vanished, replaced by an ecstatic, victorious laugh that echoed through the entire cremation grounds!

The grieving family and citizens looked up in utter astonishment, baffled by the strange ascetic who had wept and laughed in the face of death.

His laughter concluded, the yogi locked his vital breath in Kumbhaka, releasing a brilliant orb of golden soul-energy from his crown chakra into the air!

As the soul departed, the yogi's withered mortal frame slumped lifeless against the root of the banyan tree like a discarded garment.

The luminous sphere of consciousness descended through the sky and entered the crown of the dead prince resting upon the sandalwood pyre.

Instantly, healthy color flooded the prince's pale cheeks, vital breath filled his lungs, and his eyes snapped open, gleaming with the depth of an ancient sage!

The resurrected prince sat up gracefully upon the bier, gazing upon the stunned assembly with the serene, penetrating detachment of a liberated master.

Cheers of ecstatic triumph erupted across the cremation ground! Believing it to be divine grace, the parents and citizens wept tears of overwhelming joy.

The young princess embraced the feet of her returned lord, her bottomless grief transformed in a heartbeat into boundless bliss.

Seated atop an ornate royal elephant amid sounding conches and festive drums, the prince was escorted back to the palace of Shobhavati in royal triumph.

While behind in the desolate cemetery, the withered shell of the old hermit lay forgotten in the dust, forsaken by a world dazzled by youth.

Betal challenged: 'Tell me, O King Vikramaditya! Why did that ancient yogi first weep bitterly and then immediately burst into ecstatic laughter before entering the corpse? Speak, or your skull shatters into a hundred fragments!'

Emperor Vikramaditya declared: 'The yogi wept out of natural gratitude and sorrow for abandoning the faithful body in which he had performed ninety years of severe penance and attained supreme spiritual mastery—parting with a lifelong vehicle of Dharma brings natural grief. And he laughed in supreme triumph because his occult Siddhi had cheated death itself, and in amusement at the cosmic illusion (Maya) of the weeping mortals who rejoiced over an old yogi dressed in a youthful shell!'

The spoken verdict shattered the vow of silence! With a triumphant cackle, Betal slipped from Vikram's shoulder and soared back into the stormy sky.

Undaunted and fearless, Emperor Vikramaditya gripped his sword and marched back into the ink-black night to retrieve the spirit for the twenty-fourth time.