Mbh 12.139.11

Mahabharata · translated by Kisari Mohan Ganguli

"'"Brahmadatta said, 'It is Time that does every act. Acts are of diverse kinds, and all of them proceed from Time. Who, therefore, injures whom?[416] Birth and Death happen in the same way. Creatures act (i.e., take birth and live) in consequence of Time, and it is in consequence also of Time that they cease to live. Some are seen to die at once. Some die one at a time. Some are seen to live for long periods. Like fire consuming the fuel, Time consumes all creatures. O blessed lady, I am, therefore, not the cause of your sorrow, nor art thou the cause of mine. It is Time that always ordains the weal and woe of embodied creatures. Do thou then continue to dwell here according to thy pleasure, with affection for me and without fear of any injury from me. What thou hast done has been forgiven by me. Do thou also forgive me, O Pujani!'

Mbh 12.139.11 · Mahabharata · SANTI PARVA

Themes in this passage

Death Nature Forgiveness Karma Fear Grief Love Rebirth

Death in other traditions

The same theme, as Christianity, Islam, Taoism and Hellenism address it.

And the children of Israel spake unto Moses, saying, Behold, we die, we perish, we all perish.

Numbers 17:12 · Bible · Numbers

Lo! thou wilt die, and lo! they will die;

Quran 39:30 · Quran · The Companies

The people do not fear death; to what purpose is it to (try to) frighten them with death? If the people were always in awe of death, and I could always seize those who do wrong, and put them to death, who would dare to do wrong?

Tao Te Ching 74.1 · Tao Te Ching

These words, attended with a shower of tears, The youth address’d to unrelenting ears: “Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; But least, the sons of Priam’s hateful race. Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? The great, the good Patroclus is no more! He, far thy better, was foredoom’d to die, And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? Seest thou not me, whom nature’s gifts adorn, Sprung from a hero, from a goddess born? The day shall come (which nothing can avert) When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart, By night, or day, by force, or by design, Impending death and certain fate are mine! Die then,”—He said; and as the word he spoke, The fainting stripling sank before the stroke: His hand forgot its grasp, and left the spear, While all his trembling frame confess’d his fear: Sudden, Achilles his broad sword display’d, And buried in his neck the reeking blade. Prone fell the youth; and panting on the land, The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand. The victor to the stream the carcase gave, And thus insults him, floating on the wave:

Iliad 21.7 · Iliad · 21

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