Dattātreya Gīta

Yadu Mahārāja was the great ancestor of the Yādavas. One day he met Dattātreya, who was wandering freely in the forest with no care, his face bright with joy and full contentment. Yadu saw how different this was from the worries of worldly life, and he asked the avadhūta (a free wanderer who has left all rules and possessions) for the secret of his peace.

Dattātreya answered that he had taken twenty-four teachers from nature and the world around him. Each one taught him a deep lesson about what is real, about letting go, and about the nature of the ātmā (the Self). This teaching fills several chapters of the Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapters 7 to 12.

Yadu meets the avadhūta

Yadu Mahārāja, the great king from whom the Yādava line comes, once saw a bright young man moving through the forest. He was carefree, without clothes, full of joy, and had no companion and no possession. His face shone with what could only be called the light of the ātmā.

Yadu was deeply moved. He had seen many brahmajñānīs (knowers of Brahman) and tapasvīs (those who practise tapas, austerity), but this joy was different. It was the natural delight of one who has fully ended every feeling of lack.

Yadu came near with folded hands and said: “Who are you? What is the source of this great joy? You look young, yet you have the stillness of the oldest of the old. You seem to have everything you need within you. Please teach me.”

Dattātreya smiled and replied: “O king, I learned from the world itself. I have had twenty-four teachers, and nature placed each of them before me in its own time. From each I understood something that matters. I will tell you what I learned.” (Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapter 7)

The twenty-four gurus

1. The earth

The earth carries all beings on herself: the good and the wicked, those who plough her and those who trample her. She never strikes back and never loses her calm. She feeds all from her own body. From the earth I learned kshamā, patience, and giving oneself without complaint.

2. Water

Water flows wherever it is needed. It cleans whatever it touches. It keeps no fixed shape and clings to no form. From water I learned purity and selfless care for others.

3. Fire

Fire takes in everything that is offered to it and changes it all. What it burns never stains it. It gives light without favouring anyone. From fire I learned fearless acceptance, and the power to change things without being changed.

4. Wind (Vāyu)

The wind moves freely through everything, through palace and cremation ground alike, and is never held or stained. It carries sweet scent and also the smell of decay, and yet it stays pure. From the wind I learned not to cling while in contact with the world: to move through it without being soiled by it.

5. Sky (Ākāśa)

The sky is everywhere, yet nothing in it touches it. Clouds form in it and storms rage, but the sky itself is never disturbed. From the sky I learned the nature of the ātmā: present everywhere, held nowhere.

6. Moon

The moon grows and shrinks. At times it is full, at times a thin sliver, at times unseen. Yet the moon itself is always whole. Only the shadow changes. From the moon I learned that the ātmā is not born and does not die. Only bodies cast shadows of change.

7. Sun

The light of the sun is reflected in a thousand pots of water, yet the sun is only one. In the same way Paramātmā is reflected in millions of jīvas (living beings), and yet he is one. From the sun I learned the nature of Paramātmā, who appears as many while remaining one.

8. The pigeon couple

In a forest a pigeon couple had become deeply attached to their nest, their young and each other. Their lives were swallowed up by this attachment. A hunter came and snared the chicks, and the parents flew helplessly into the trap themselves, unable to bear being parted from them. All died. From the pigeon couple I learned that great attachment to family and home leads surely to ruin. The full account is given below.

9. The python (Ajagara)

The python lies still and accepts whatever food comes to it. It does not hunt and does not store. When food comes, it eats. When none comes, it waits in perfect calm. From the python I learned content acceptance: to take what life brings without grasping or complaining.

10. The ocean

The ocean receives all the rivers, clean or foul, yet its depth and vastness do not change. It does not overflow in the monsoon floods and does not shrink in the dry season. From the ocean I learned balance and depth: to hold everything and not be disturbed by any of it.

11. The moth

The moth is drawn to the flame and flies into it. It is destroyed by the very beauty it wants. From the moth I learned the danger of rūpa-āsakti, being taken by visible beauty. It leads the seeker away from moksha (liberation).

12. The bee

The bee collects nectar from many flowers. It takes only a little from each and never drains one source. From the bee I learned to take in moderation: to take from the world only what one needs, without using it up.

13. The honey-thief

A honey-thief climbs a dangerous height without fear to reach the honey that others have gathered. He takes what he needs without hesitation. From the honey-thief I learned fearlessness in seeking jñāna (knowledge): to take wisdom wherever it is found, without false modesty.

14. The elephant

A bull elephant, mighty and strong, is caught by the touch of a female elephant. The pleasant feeling leads him into a pit. From the elephant I learned the danger of sparśa-āsakti: being bound by pleasure of the senses, and in particular by touch.

15. The deer

The deer is charmed by music and stands spellbound. It lets the hunter come near and kill it. From the deer I learned the danger of śabda-āsakti, being taken by beautiful sounds, which takes away the power to tell right from wrong.

16. The fish

The fish is drawn by the taste of the bait and is caught on the hook. From the fish I learned the danger of rasa-āsakti: being bound by taste, by the pleasures of the tongue.

17. Piṅgalā the courtesan

In the city of Videha lived a courtesan named Piṅgalā. Night after night she waited for a rich patron who never came. She was worn out and shamed by hope that was put off again and again. Then she suddenly saw the truth: all her suffering had one cause, which was expectation. With that insight vairāgya (detachment) arose in her, and she sang of her freedom.

From Piṅgalā I learned that āśā, expecting things from the world, is the root of all sorrow. The moment expectation is cut, peace floods in.

18. The osprey (Kurara)

An osprey held a piece of flesh in its beak. At once other birds attacked it from every side, trying to take the flesh. The osprey suffered greatly until it dropped the piece, and then the other birds left it in peace. From the osprey I learned this: let go of what you cling to, and the suffering that comes from guarding it ends at once.

19. The young girl

A young girl was getting ready for her wedding and was grinding grain alone. Her bangles made a noise. She did not want to wake the guests, so she took off the bangles one by one until only one was left on each wrist. Then there was silence. From the young girl I learned the value of solitude and silence. When one or two companions remain, the noise goes on. True eka-vāsa, living alone, is needed for sādhana (spiritual practice) to deepen.

20. The arrow-maker

An arrow-maker was so absorbed in straightening and shaping his arrow that a great royal procession passed by and he noticed nothing. Elephants, musicians and the king himself went past. So complete was his focus. From the arrow-maker I learned ekāgratā: complete, undivided attention on a single aim.

21. The serpent

The serpent lives alone and moves silently. It looks for no shelter that others have built and takes what the world gives without complaint. It never stays in the same hole twice. From the serpent I learned asaṅga: complete freedom from attachment, living alone and independent, and moving through the world without leaving a trace.

22. The spider

The spider spins its web from its own body, lives in it, and when it is done draws all of it back into itself. From the spider I learned how Paramātmā creates, keeps and withdraws the universe, all from himself and back into himself. I also learned that the jñānī (knower) should likewise spin no karma outward, but draw everything inward toward the ātmā.

23. The wasp (Bhramara)

A wasp catches a caterpillar and keeps it in its cell, buzzing before it again and again. The caterpillar thinks of the wasp all the time out of great fear, and it turns into a wasp itself. From the wasp I learned that a being becomes what it constantly meditates on. The mind is changed by the thing it fixes on. Fix the mind on Paramātmā, and one becomes Paramātmā. This is the secret of upāsanā (devoted meditation).

24. My own body

My own body is my last teacher. The body is born, grows, decays and dies. It supports me in my sādhana for a time, and then it falls away. It teaches constant vairāgya, because it keeps reminding me that I am not the body. From my body I learned how urgent it is to seek moksha before the work of the body is done.

(Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapters 7–9)

The pigeon couple in full

When he spoke of the pigeon couple as his eighth guru, Dattātreya told Yadu the whole account.

A pigeon couple had made a home in the forest and brought up their young with great love. Their whole world was the nest, the chicks and each other. They were so tied together that they could not imagine a life apart.

One day a hunter came to the forest and spread his net. First the chicks were caught. The mother pigeon heard the chicks cry. She flew in to save them and was caught. The father pigeon saw the mother caught, was overcome with grief, and flew in too. The hunter caught them all and went away happy.

Dattātreya ended: “This is what saṃsāra does to those who build their world on attachment to family. The very love that is meant to protect leads them blindly into the trap. Kṛshṇa alone is the one relation that cannot be turned against you, because he is your own ātmā.” (Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapter 7)

The avadhūta path

After naming his teachers, Dattātreya spoke about his way of life. He said:

“I have taken the sky as my clothing. I live without a house. I eat what is put before me by dharma alone. I am celibate, not by effort, but because I see no object of desire anywhere. I wander alone, like the great ascetics of old, Prahlāda, Śuka and Janaka, who seem to live in the world while being quite untouched by it. This is the avadhūta path: nothing owned, nothing refused, nothing regretted.”

“The highest learning is to know that sattva, rajas and tamas are the guṇas of prakṛti. I am none of these. I am the witness, pure, self-luminous and unborn. This is what each of my twenty-four teachers was pointing to.” (Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapters 9–12)

Yadu’s thanks

Yadu Mahārāja bowed to the ground before Dattātreya and said: “You have given me more than any teacher I have ever met. You have shown me that the whole world is a classroom, and that the guru is not only a person. It is life itself, speaking through every creature and every event. I go from here with eyes newly opened.”

He left with deep thanks, carrying what Dattātreya had given him: the vision of the avadhūta, free, joyful and at peace in the midst of all things. (Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapter 9)

Sources

• Bhāgavata Mahā Purāṇa, 11th Skanda, Chapters 7–12