Upanishads · Bhasmajābāla 2.62
॥
Devanāgarī
तत्रैका रत्नवेदिका । तत्राहमासीनः काश्यां त्यक्तकुणपाञ्छैवानानीय स्वस्याङ्के संनिवेश्य भसितरुद्राक्षभूषितानुपस्पृश्य मा भूदेतेषां जन्म मृतिश्चेति तारकं शवं मनुमुपदिशामि
Transliteration (IAST)
tatraikā ratnavedikā | tatrāhamāsīnaḥ kāśyāṃ tyaktakuṇapāñchaivānānīya svasyāṅke saṃniveśya bhasitarudrākṣabhūṣitānupaspṛśya mā bhūdeteṣāṃ janma mṛtiśceti tārakaṃ śavaṃ manumupadiśāmi
Word-by-word
SanskritIASTMeaning
तत्र एका रत्न-वेदिकाtatra ekā ratna-vedikāthere, a single altar of jewels
तत्र अहम् आसीनःtatra aham āsīnaḥthere I sit
काश्यां त्यक्त-कुणपान् शैवान् आनीयkāśyāṃ tyakta-kuṇapān śaivān ānīyahaving brought the śaivas who left their bodies in Kāśī
स्वस्य अङ्के संनिवेश्यsvasya aṅke saṃniveśyahaving seated them on my lap
शवं मनुम् उपदिशामिśavaṃ manum upadiśāmiI teach the dead one the mantra
Translation
«There, a single altar of jewels; there I sit. Having brought the śaivas who left their bodies in Kāśī, having seated them on my lap, having touched them, adorned with ash and rudrākṣa — «let there be for them no birth and no death» — I teach the dead one the crossing mantra».
Version
df8a553b3c60 · published Aug 12, 2026, 5:00:00 AM UTC
Available inRUENPage between verses with
Here is the strongest passage in the whole book, and it deserves reading slowly. The One to whom this whole edifice of prescriptions is dedicated steps down from the altar, takes the dead onto his lap, and speaks the mantra to him. The word śava means «corpse»; and it is said exactly so: śavam manum upadiśāmi, «I teach the mantra to the dead». Not to one who is dying, not to one departing — already dead.
And here everything the book has been building for two chapters collapses. For two hundred lines it enumerated what to bathe with, how much to pour, on what day and with which hand; and at the decisive moment the one receiving does nothing — he is dead, he can neither bathe nor pour nor even listen. This is called, in Vaishnava language, kṛpā, «mercy»: what is given not by merit and not by calculation, for there is no one left to receive by merit here. And it is set above every performance precisely because performance is always earned by something, while mercy is earned by nothing.
The image «having seated on his lap» deserves being held onto separately, for it is unexpectedly tender amid a book full of threats. The Highest takes a corpse onto his lap — as one takes a child; and after this all the earlier threats read differently, for one sees how it all ends. The Bhāgavatam says the same in the story of Ajāmila, who at the hour of death neither prayed nor repented but called for his son — and was let go. Both books, arriving at their end, find themselves forced to say one thing: what decides is not what a person did, but into whose hands he fell.