Yama and Niyama

Two ants were making their way north through the dense forest undergrowth. Yama and Niyama had set out on a journey they had long dreamt of. But now, half a day from home, they had begun to miss home too.

For some time the forest had been alive with the story of Kashi the crow, who had flown all the way to Kailasa to meet Lord Shiva — the Giriruha, the one who dwells in the mountains. To meet Parameshwara Shiva was something Yama and Niyama had never dared to dream of. But after hearing Kashi's tales, they could not hold their desire back. They had thought of seeking out Kashi himself, who lived further downstream, but in the end the two young ants decided not to wait, and set off without delay.

"Namah Shivaya, Namah Shivaya," they chanted as they marched.

Whenever they stopped to rest, they told every passerby — other ants, grasshoppers, crickets, butterflies, spiders, termites, all those who crossed their path — that they were going to Kailasa to meet Lord Shiva. Most wished them well and told them to speak to Kashi. Many laughed at them.

After two days they reached Devi Amma's temple. By then a small entourage had gathered behind them — younger ants, crickets, even a few caterpillars. The little crawlers argued among themselves about how Yama and Niyama should get to Kailasa. They also had plenty of advice on what to do there.

Near the temple stood a Bael tree. She had been watching the small army pass by.

"Little ones," she said, "what will you do when you meet Bhagavan?"

They were silent. They had not thought about it. Just meeting him was their wish.

"I have a prayer," she said. "Will you carry it to Bhagavan for me? I wish to bear fruit. It has been many seasons since I have borne fruit."

"Sure thing! We will let him know..." called out Yama. They both prayed at the temple and moved on.

The further they went, the smaller their entourage became. Some grew tired and fell behind. Others stopped to quarrel with those who mocked them, and never caught up. In the end only Yama and Niyama were left. They walked in silence, Yama dragging behind Niyama. They were famished, and they missed their nest, their family, their friends.

Yama began to feel it had all been Niyama's idea, and that he had followed along like a fool. He could not bring himself to go any further.

"Come on, let us keep going," said Niyama. "If we keep chanting Namah Shivaya, we will reach Kailasa."

"I was a fool. I got carried away. It is best we turn back now, before we are lost in this forest forever," said Yama.

"They mocked us for a reason. Look how naive I have been," he went on.

"All right, all right. Let us rest a while," said Niyama. "We can go on once the noon sun has softened."

Yama said nothing. He stood looking at Niyama. Then he turned and began walking back the way they had come. Niyama did not call him back. He watched him go for a moment, and then continued on alone — "Namah Shivaya, Namah Shivaya."

Yama reached home. At first, the others teased him, asking how Kailasa had been, what Shiva had told him. Yama kept to himself. After a while they forgot.

Seasons later, the Bael tree was full of fruit like never before. Creatures relished the fruit day and night. The forest was abuzz with news of the bounty.

Everyone asked Yama about Niyama — about their journey, about his devotion, what he had spoken, how he had walked.

Yama lived the rest of his life thinking about Niyama — and thinking about Kailasa.