My name is Mankanaka. And when I dance, the world trembles beneath my feet. This is my story. . .
When I was a young boy, I often played with the animals in the woods and sang with the birds in the skies and swam with the fish in the rivers. These creatures were my friends, my dearest companions, and so I resolved to live like them and abstain from eating any meat. Instead, I would diet only on the plants and weeds the forest provided, much as my friends did.
And so, for years and years, I dwelt alone in the forest with my friends, never coming into contact with other people. I ate the bounties of the land--on occasion the luscious, ripe fruit falling from the trees, rarely the earthy roots and tubers dug from the earth, but mostly the variety of waving, rustling grass spread out in wide swathes across the land.
Grass! Was there ever created a more succulent and ambrosial food? It is no wonder my friends can subsist on only this! The rough and shaggy blue-green grass of the woods, waving like the rough waters of the sea in a breeze, tasting earthy and slightly bitter, with a rich, almost nutty undertone. The bright green, tender young sprouts of grass in spring, crisp and sweet like the freshest fruit when consumed. And the frost-covered grass in winter? Ah, you will never taste anything so tart and tangy, immediately causing a shiver of pleasure to course through your body. Why would I ever feel the need to eat meat when there is such a wealth of flavor and texture of plants available to me?
The years passed, and I continued my life in the forests away from the travails of human society. My time was spent running through the trees with the deer, trundling across the lands with bears, climbing through the trees with the squirrels, singing in the trees with the birds, and swimming through the rivers with the fish. What time I spent on my own, I would spend sitting in peaceful meditation, working to listen to the Earth itself and become one with it, as well. I could sit on a hill, and fill the spin of the Earth as it spun and carried us through the heavens. I could feel the heat from the molten core at my center, and the cool from the crystal waters and whispering winds on my skin. I was truly one with the world, but I did not yet know how deep this connection extended.
Then, on a day not unlike any other, I was weaving myself a new mat out of grasses for my meditations when a sharp blade sliced my palm. Feeling the sharp sting, I looked down at my hand, but where I expected there to be a flow of crimson blood, instead there was a sappy stream of green liquid not unlike the juices of grass. A grin crept over my face, a laugh bubbled from my chest, and I was overwhelmed by happiness and excitement.
Now I could know for sure that I had done it! I had become united with the Earth, with its plants and its creatures, with its earth and its waters and its skies. Nothing could compare to this euphoric feeling of connection with the world!! If only all of those who had mocked my diet of grass could feel this sensation, could understand this awareness of nature and everything in it!!
Yet, as I celebrated, as I danced and leapt with joy and ardor, I did not notice that all the world danced with me. This is not to say I didn't notice my friends and the Earth joining me in my lively gambols, for I recognized their companionship even in this magnificent moment. But what I did not realize was that our combined dance, with animals and plants and stones and rivers and oceans all cavorting in euphoria, had set the Earth to shaking and the oceans to tumbling. Not only this, but my dance was so enthralling that some of my dear friends were dancing themselves right unto Death's door!
Luckily, the gods looked down at the jubilant disturbance from their place in the heavens and sent the kind and merciful Shiva to halt my gleeful jig. In the guise of a hermit he addressed me with a soft query, "For a moment, be still, and explain to me why you dance."
I stopped my steps, and in a moment the world had settled gratefully back into its normal order. "I have done it! I have become so a part of the world that my blood is the same as the lifeblood of plants! This green liquid, this wonderful, sticky, emerald sap, this is why I dance!!!"
Smiling a tender smile, Shiva spoke again. "I am truly pleased for you, but look. . ." The hermit before me pressed his fingernail into his skin, and ashes not unlike the white snow of winter drifted gently down to the ground.
In shock, I realized my folly. I recognized that my every action would affect the movements of the Earth which I so loved, and I resolved to never bring such euphoric harm to it again.
That is not to say that I changed my diet--I still dine on the succulent blades of grass whose sap runs through my veins. No, instead I decided that my life would be lived as before, accompanying my friends in their daily activities and meditating on my own in the hills. Thus, to this day, I remain in the forests and slopes of India, feeling everything the Earth feels. And as the Earth dies beneath me, so will I die, gradually withering and fading away as my friends die off and leave me the last inhabitant of the once bountiful lands in which I danced so joyfully long ago. . .
Author's Note. 'Sup, everyone! So this week I decided to tell the story of Mankanaka because, well, I felt like it. The big stories in this week's readings were really those of Savitri and Damayanti (who are in my storybook, so telling their stories here kinda felt like cheating), and then that of Santa (who, although I found interesting, I couldn't really get into the persona of). Thus, after those stories were eliminated from the running, I was left with the basic plotline of the Mahabharata and. . . this story. Which is short and fun and kind of fantastic, haha. Though, I must admit, the entire time I was reading/writing this story, I couldn't help but wonder how my vegetarian sister and friends would respond. And I once again realized that (even if I could end up as awesome of Mankanaka) I could never become a vegetarian. I love meat too much to live off of grass, haha. Ciao!!
Bibliography. Buck, William (1973). Mahabharata.
Image Information. Rolling Hills Sunset. Photograph by jaydigital. DeviantArt.
