The Katha-Upanishad (the Katha) is simple, direct and profound. Life itself is the subject of its study -- to unravel its mysteries -- and as a spiritual text, it points to what makes for self-knowledge and a deeply examined life. It is beautiful -- an allegorical tale par excellence -- and is presented as a riveting dialogue between a young boy, Nachiketa, and Yama Dharmaraya, the god of death and righteousness. The Katha belongs to a branch of the Krshna-Yajurveda and consists of two chapters, each divided into three sections, with a total of 119 verses. The chronology of the Katha is unclear, with differing views that rest on scanty evidence, and analyses based on philological approaches. Richard King and A L Basham date the Katha composition roughly to the 5th century BCE.
First, the story in brief: Sage Vajasrava undertakes a ritual sacrifice that requires him to give away all his worldly possessions. During the course of the ritual, when the gifts are brought forward as offerings, his son Nachiketa, a mere lad then, notices that his father was offering only old and worthless cows. He was moved by Shraddha -- more than mere faith, and combines an independent sense of right and wrong -- that compels him to ask his father persistently “Father, to whom will you offer me?” Vajasrava, conscious that he was not making a true sacrifice, lashes out in annoyance at his son’s persistence, “I give you to Yama, the lord of death.”
What follows when Nachiketa meets Yama in his abode is the dialogue on what kind of life is worth living; and the discourse on the fundamental spiritual question: “When a person dies, some say the self exists, and others say a self of this kind does not exist. I should like to know from you, the lord of death, the answer to this question (1.1.20).” This is the third of the three boons that Nachiketa seeks, after rejecting all of Yama’s allurements of wealth, long life, worldly and heavenly pleasures.
Reading the Katha is a deeply personal experience. The meaning the reader might draw is inextricably intertwined with the life choices one makes between the principle of pleasure (Preya) and the principle of good (Shreya) (1.2.2). There is no apriori reason to suppose that the Katha will have a profound impact on you, it perhaps might. Those readers who take a deep dive into it will find just rewards. I do not propose to dwell on the meaning and interpretation of the Katha and its significance for the “illusion of time”; save to cite a couple of verses to reflect on how to think about ourselves. The Katha provides the frame to know yourself as you are.
What is the world within and without like?
Living in the middle of ignorance and regarding themselves as intelligent and learned, the ignorant go round and round, in many crooked ways, like the blind led by the blind (1.2.5).
Beyond the senses are the sense-objects, beyond the objects is the mind, beyond the mind is the intellect, and beyond the intellect is the self (1.3.10).
The Katha needs to be read from a modern perspective, one that recognises that this actual world of what is knowable, in which we are and which is in us, remains both the material and the limit of our consideration. The Katha treats death as a mere existential question, without resorting to God to escape mortality. It is profound because it deals with the question of death as a way of understanding life, and how it is best lived.
Another fascinating feature of the Katha is the delightfully wry sense of humour and the laconic exchanges between Nachiketa and Yama.
The Katha is the most widely studied amongst the Upanishads. Its early Persian translations found their way to Europe. Max Muller translated it in 1879, from which it was translated into Latin; Edwin Arnold rendered it in verse, in The Secret of Death; Ralph Waldo Emerson made it the central story at the end of his essay, Immortality; and Arthur Schopenhauer was so deeply influenced that he regarded it “the most elevating reading...possible in the world. It has been the solace of my life, and will be the solace of my death.”
Must you read the Katha-Upanishad?
Reflecting on life and contemplating death, W Somerset Maugham’s 1944 novel The Razor’s Edge was inspired by a verse from the Katha: “The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.”(1.3.14).
Time devours the universe. In the relentless march of time, ‘Varthamanamaham’-- I am the present -- is the only truth. Experiencing this makes walking the razor’s edge that much easier.
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