इन्द्र उवाच
किम् इदं रोदिषि शुभे कच्चित् क्षेमं दिवौकसाम् ॥
मानुषेष्व् अथ वा गोषु नैतद् अल्पं भविष्यति ॥
सुरभिर् उवाच
विनिपातो न वः कश् चिद् दृश्यते त्रिदशाधिप ॥
अहं तु पुत्रं शोचामि तेन रोदिमि कौशिक ॥
पश्यैनं कर्षकं रौद्रं दुर्बलं मम पुत्रकम् ॥
प्रतोदेनाभिनिघ्नन्तं लाङ्गलेन निपीडितम् ॥
एतं दृष्ट्वा भृशं श्रन्तं वध्यमानं सुराधिप ॥
कृपाविष्टास्मि देवेन्द्र मनश् चोद्विजते मम ॥
एकस् तत्र बलोपेतो धुरम् उद्वहते ऽधिकाम् ॥
अपरो ऽल्पबलप्राणः कृशो धमनिसंततः ॥
कृच्छ्राद् उद्वहते भारं तं वै शोचामि वासव ॥
वध्यमानः प्रतोदेन तुद्यमानः पुनः पुनः ॥
नैव शक्नोति तं भारम् उद्वोढुं पश्य वासव ॥
ततो ऽहं तस्य दुःखार्ता विरौमि भृशदुःखिता ॥
अश्रूण्य् आवर्तयन्ती च नेत्राभ्यां करुणायती ॥
इन्द्र उवाच
तव पुत्रसहस्रेषु पीड्यमानेषु शोभने ॥
किं कृपायितम् अस्त्य् अत्र पुत्र एको ऽत्र पीड्यते ॥
सुरभिर् उवाच
यदि पुत्रसहस्रं मे सर्वत्र समम् एव मे ॥
दीनस्य तु सतः शक्र पुत्रस्याभ्यधिका कृपा ॥
indra uvāca
kim idaṃ rodiṣi śubhe kaccit kṣemaṃ divaukasām ||
mānuṣeṣv atha vā goṣu naitad alpaṃ bhaviṣyati ||
surabhir uvāca
vinipāto na vaḥ kaś cid dṛśyate tridaśādhipa ||
ahaṃ tu putraṃ śocāmi tena rodimi kauśika ||
paśyainaṃ karṣakaṃ raudraṃ durbalaṃ mama putrakam ||
pratodenābhinighnantaṃ lāṅgalena nipīḍitam ||
etaṃ dṛṣṭvā bhṛśaṃ śrantaṃ vadhyamānaṃ surādhipa ||
kṛpāviṣṭāsmi devendra manaś codvijate mama ||
ekas tatra balopeto dhuram udvahate 'dhikām ||
aparo 'lpabalaprāṇaḥ kṛśo dhamanisaṃtataḥ ||
kṛcchrād udvahate bhāraṃ taṃ vai śocāmi vāsava ||
vadhyamānaḥ pratodena tudyamānaḥ punaḥ punaḥ ||
naiva śaknoti taṃ bhāram udvoḍhuṃ paśya vāsava ||
tato 'haṃ tasya duḥkhārtā viraumi bhṛśaduḥkhitā ||
aśrūṇy āvartayantī ca netrābhyāṃ karuṇāyatī ||
indra uvāca
tava putrasahasreṣu pīḍyamāneṣu śobhane ||
kiṃ kṛpāyitam asty atra putra eko 'tra pīḍyate ||
surabhir uvāca
yadi putrasahasraṃ me sarvatra samam eva me ||
dīnasya tu sataḥ śakra putrasyābhyadhikā kṛpā ||
Indra said: "Why do you weep, O beautiful one? Are the celestials well, and the humans, and the cows? This cannot be a small matter." Surabhi answered: "Among you, O lord of the thirty gods, I see no misfortune. I grieve for my son, and that is why I weep, O Kaushika. Look: this cruel plowman strikes my weak son with a whip and presses him with the plow. Seeing him so exhausted and beaten, O lord of gods, I am overcome with pity, and my mind is troubled. One there is strong and bears the greater share of the yoke; the other is weak in strength and life, thin, his veins standing out, bearing his burden with difficulty — it is he I mourn for, O Vasava. Look: he is struck again and again with the whip and goaded; he cannot bear this burden. So, suffering for his pain, I cry aloud, deeply grieved, and tears fall from my eyes out of compassion." Indra asked: "Among your thousand sons, O beautiful one, who are all oppressed alike, why is your pity turned toward just one?" Surabhi answered: "Though I have a thousand sons — they are all equal to me. But toward the son who is wretched and weak, O Shakra, compassion is greater."
d675a68b20d3 · publicado 16 jul 2026, 16:33:28 UTC
Disponible enRUENPasa de verso en verso con
Surabhi does not love one son instead of all the others; she sees who suffers more. True equality does not mean distributing attention identically when one is collapsing under the yoke. Mercy bends more strongly toward the one who is weaker.