In Search of a Sacred King: Dārā Shukoh and the Yogavāsiṣṭhas of Mughal India

various ways in the preparation of this article Sonam Kachru in particular for his generous h on Indic traditions. An earlier version of this a of Religion in November 2012 and at Nehru M March 2013, where I benefited greatly from th anonymous readers, one of them especially, w valuable suggestions. The transliteration of Pe skrit terms, follows the Persian transliteration East Studies as recommended by the Chicago lows the standard International Alphabet of Sa

efforts, including his relationship with Hindu saints like Baba Lal, had precedents in earlier Mughal courts, but he went a step further than his forebears in that he found an element of truth in Indic texts. 5 Nevertheless, it is worth asking whether the significance of his involvement with the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha may have been bound up with concerns that became increasingly central to Dārā Shukoh's politics.
With these questions in mind, I seek to revisit the Mughal Yogavāsiṣ t ̣has, first briefly considering the reasons why Mughal scholars and their patrons chose this text and how they sought to present their visions of it in Persian. Thereafter, I consider Dārā Shukoh's translation, situating it in the larger context of Mughal political culture.
THE YOGAVĀSIṢ Ṭ HA The book of Vasiṣ t ̣ha and his yoga ðYogavāsiṣ t ̣haÞ, also called Mahā-Rāmāyaṇ a, or Vāsiṣ t ̣ha-Rāmāyaṇ a, to list a few of its alternative titles, is a work of philosophical narratives. 6 The word yoga in the title, as the work clarifies, refers to a kind of philosophical knowledge ð jñānaÞ and not to ascetic praxis. 7 The work is a long dialogue between the sage Vasiṣ t ̣ha ðVasiṣ t ̣ ha Muni, transliterated as "Basisht" in Persian translationsÞ and Prince Rāma ðvenerated as Śrī-Rāmacandra, or "Rām Chand" in Persian translationsÞ, comprising over 32,000 verses.
The Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha has lived many lives, even in the relatively short time between its introduction as an innovative book in Kashmir titled Mokṣ opāya ðThe means of freedomÞ sometime around the tenth century and its subsequent circulation as the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, with variations in the frame stories that introduce the book and certain changes in philosophical vocabulary. The variations amount to the nesting of this work in a frame more suited to a Brahmanical theological tradition and allowing much of the distinctive vocabulary of the text to be replaced by standard Vedāntic terms. 8 In between the exten-5 Compare Kinra, "Infantilizing Bābā Dārā." 6 The compound yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha is more commonly translated as "Vasiṣ t ̣ha's Yoga." But the compound is perhaps best resolved, on the precedent of the title of Kālidāsa's Abhijñāśākuntala, as "the book related to Vasiṣ t ̣ha and his Yoga" sive ðbṛ hadÞ texts there was a version of the work in 5,000 verses that came to be known as the Concise Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha ðLaghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣haÞ, perhaps once known as The essence of the means to freedom ðMokṣ opāyasāraÞ attributed to Abhinanda of Kashmir, but of which neither the date nor the author are established with certainty. Some of the organizational changes introduced by the Laghu have, however, affected the later Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha and also the arrangement of the chapters in the two Mughal Persian translations, those of Niẓ ām Pānīpatī and Dārā Shukoh. To be sure, there were several other versions that further abridged, or rerepresented, the pith and core of the philosophical doctrines of the text. 9 These works are linked together by some important features, of which the first is the fact that the philosophical conversation between Rāma and Vasiṣ t ̣ha Muni is situated as an episode in the Rāmāyana. The second is the use of philosophical narratives, many of which are unique to these texts ðafter which they traveled extensivelyÞ and are uniquely expressive of the philosophical aims of the text. The core of this philosophy concerns the nature of what is most real and the vision of freedom in life ð jīvanmuktiÞ, stressing that a nonascetic freedom in action is not only possible but desirable on the basis of thought and the kind of rational inquiry exemplified in the work. It is not spiritual praxis, or ritual, or even meditation that promotes freedom but thought, which can, in principle, be engaged in by anyone, irrespective of social status, eligibility, or entitlement with respect to Brahmāṇ ical conceptions of norms. As the Laghu states: whether one is eligible ðadhikāraÞ to receive instruction in the text depends solely on a desire to know, which in turn depends on not being someone who is utterly incapable of being taught or already possessed of knowledge. Social standing, considerations of ritual purity, and membership in a community simply do not serve as criteria for eligibility. And this is a significant feature of the book's overall philosophical outlook. 10 A point that cannot be emphasized enough concerns the way in which this work was self-conscious about its function as a model for knowledge on the part of rulers caught between the conflicting demands of disenchantment and disengagement ðvairāgyaÞ from the values of power and pleasure on the one hand and the need to seemingly promote such values through their engage- 9 For the variety of "short" versions of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, see the discussion and references cited in Hanneder, Studies on the Mokṣ opāya, 10-13. See also Peter Thomi, "The Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha in Its Longer and Shorter Version," Journal of Indian Philosophy 11 ð1983Þ: 107-16. 10 "Persons qualified to read this work called Vasistha . . . should neither be Ajnanis ðthe ignorant or the worldy wiseÞ, nor those Jivanmuktas ðliberated onesÞ, who have reached their Jnana-Atman, freeing themselves from all pain, but only those who, conscious of being under bondage, long after freedom from it, and are in that vacillating position, from which they contemplate attaining Moksha": K. Narayanaswami Aiyar, trans., Laghu Yogavasishtha, 1st ed. ðMadras: Thomson, 1896Þ, 42 ðrepr., Madras: Adyar Library and Research Centre, 1971Þ, 1. ment in the world on the other. 11 Notably, the dilemma of rulers caught between conflicting values is presented by the text as being a result of reasoned deliberation ðvicāraÞ-an achievement, and not a symptom, of despondency or merely emotional confusion. The resolution of the dilemma, then, must similarly be rational and must lead kings back into the world through skillful and reasoned activity.
In stressing the role of this text as a model for the thought of kings, one can highlight first the frame story of the man who will become the ideal ruler, Rāma, who requires the philosophical conversation and narratives of the text to elucidate and confirm his awakening, to make him capable of ruling, but there is also the emphasis on kings in the philosophical narratives of the work to consider. 12 There is even a prophecy included in the book that depicts the work one day being read to King Yaśovarman of Kashmir by his ministers, and so efficacious are such philosophical conversations promoted by the work that overhearing such conversations between minsters and kings induces enlightenment. Or so the stories go. 13 And it is not the stories alone, for the use of the text in history seems to confirm the prophecy. 14 The subsequent history of the text confirms its being a "mirror for princes," we might say, following the Persian idiom. For example, it is worth noting how the Mokṣ opāya is depicted as being used to alleviate the distress of Zain al-ʿĀbidīn of Kashmir at the end of that monarch's life. 15 Dārā Shukoh, as we see below, saw this potential of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, a fact that also perhaps explains his dissatisfaction with earlier translations of the text. But before we look to the strategies of reading and translation that Dārā Shukoh encouraged, a few words are required to contextualize the Per-11 Jürgen Hanneder emphasizes this aspect of the text. On the use of the text in instructing those in power ðKṣ atriyasÞ, see Hanneder, Studies on the Mokṣ opāya, 194.
12 For a discussion of kingship as it is thought through in a few exemplary stories of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, see Wendy Doniger, Dreams, Illusion and Other Realities ðChicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984Þ, 132-34 and 135-43. 13 For a translation of this story, see Swami Venkatesananda, Vasistha's Yoga ðAlbany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993Þ, 169. Liberation through overhearing one's own story is of course a trope found in the frame story of the Kathāsaritsāgara. The Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha clearly intends its own philosophical frames to be a model for, and a model of, future situations of self-realization. On the use of this trope in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ ha and its reception in Kashmirian historiography, I am grateful to Sonam Kachru for pointing out how the Mokṣ opāya is said to have been used to reveal to King Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn his own life story as it might be if the theories of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha were true. 18 Ṣ ūf ī Qut ̣ b-i Jahānī, Risāla-yi At ̣ vār dar Ḥ all-i Asrār, published with three other treatises as Majmūʿa-yi rasāʾil ðLucknow: Naval Kishore, 1885Þ. The text apparently is based on Yo-gavāsiṣ t ̣ ha-sāra, a summarized selection from the Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ ha by Quṭ b-i Jahānī, the same text that Dārā Shukoh cites in the preface of his translation and that induces the vision he mentions. The colophon of an Aurangzeb-era manuscript, copied in Agra on Rabīʿ 7, 1070 ðNovember 23, 1659Þ, refers to the author as Shaikh Ṣ ūf ī Sharīf, who dedicates the translation to Jahāngīr. The emperor is mentioned with high-flying adjectives like "ḥ aqāʾiq va maʿārif-āgāh, vāqif-i asrār-i maʿdan-i ʿirfān va yaqīn." Ṣ ūf ī Sharīf compiled another treatise, Gharāʾib al-at ̣ vār f ī kashf al-anvār, containing the conversation between Mahādeva and Krishna ðMukālama-yi Krishn MahādevÞ, which, as its preface notes, took place on Mount Kailash, the abode of Mahādeva. Compare Khuda Bakhsh Library, Patna, mss. 2081/2081 and 2082/2082. This text is also referred to as Kashf al-Kunūz and Tuḥ fa-yi Majlis. Compare India Office ms. 1836, British Library, London; see also Chand and Abidi's introduction to the edition of Dārā's translation. Mojtabāʾī mentions an English translation, which unfortunately I could not access, and I am not sure whether this is the same Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha-sāra that Qut ̣b-i Jahānī used. 19 Mīr Abū al-Qāsim Findiriskī was a noted teacher of philosophy in Isfahan, and men like the famous Ṣ adr al-Dīn Shīrāzī and Sarmad Kāshānī, the poet and a close companion of Dārā Shukoh, were among his pupils. Findiriskī was not a prolific writer. Among his writings is a small treatise, Risāla-yi Ṣ anāʿiyya, on the aims of the arts, crafts, and sciences; a work in Arabic, Risāla f ī-l ḥ araka; a mystico-philosophical qaṣ īdah; and a number of ghazals, qit ̣ ʿas, and rubāʿīs. He visited India several times, first in 1606 and then in 1611, and stayed there for a number of years. His connection with the noted Zoroastrian priest and author Āz̲ ar Kaivān is Pānīpatī's translation was a literal rendering of Abhinanda Kashmiri's Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, while Shaikh Ṣ ūfī Quṭb-i Jahānī's At ̣vār dar H Á all-i Asrār is apparently based on the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha-sāra and was dedicated to the emperor Jahāngīr; the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha penned by Abū al-Qāsim Findiriskī is selfconsciously a selection ðmuntakhabÞ rather than a continuous translation of a Sanskrit text.
THE YOGAVĀSIṢ Ṭ HA OF NIẒ ĀM PĀNĪPATĪ Pānīpatī's translation begins, after the conventional praise of God and the Prophet, as follows: The people of understanding and those who seek the correct path are not concerned with [lit. their attention is not directed to] this world ðʿālam-i fānīÞ, but rather the world of eternity ðʿālam-i baqāʾÞ. Being separate from the earth and water and physical things of this world, their souls wander in the garden of the palace of the hidden. They are the opposite of [those who desire] the transitory pleasures of this world and those ignorant and oblivious to the realities who are consumed by these pleasures of the world and of the body. . . . Prince Salīm, . . . leaving aside carnal desires, is like those pious and God-knowing people and the Sufis; his attention is directed towards mysticism ðtaṣ avvuf Þ. Even if he is very busy with matters concerning state management ðmulk-dārī Þ, all his remaining hours are spent in attending to spiritual concerns and care for the poor and the knowledgeable. Scholars of Arabic and other sciences, experts in Persian poetry and prose, historians and Hindu pandits all assemble at his evening gatherings. Important books such as Maulānā Rūmī's Mas̱ navī, the Ẓ afarnāmah, Vāqiʿāt-i Bābarī Jāmiʿ al-H Á ikāyat, and other histories and stories comprising exhortations and admonitions are read out to him and discussed in his court. In this same period, he gave instructions that the Jūgbasisht, which consists of wonderful and valuable exhortations and advice derived from reliable books of the Brahmin philosophers of India, should be translated from Sanskrit into Persian. Accordingly, this ordinary slave of his court, Niẓ ām Pānīpatī, took charge of ðmutaṣ addī Þ its translation. The contents and substance ðmażmūn va mā ḥ aṣ alÞ of this book were obtained from Patahan Mishra Jaipuri and Jagannat Mishra Banarasi, without any addition or interpolation. These were then translated into simple Persian. 20 20 Pānīpatī, Jug Basisht, 1-3. Attributed to Mir Abu'l-Qasim Findiriski" ðHarvard University, 1976Þ. Both Abidi and an editor of Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's translation, Jalali Naini, think that Findiriskī added commentary to the translation but did not have an independent text of his own. This impression is based on the manuscripts they respectively inspected. Abidi, however, is clearer on this point, whereas Naini seems confused, even with respect to determining the period in which Findiriskī wrote. My reading of this text is based on Mojtabāʾī's critical edition. In his view, Findiriskī's work is an independent text.
Niẓ ām Pānīpatī projects Prince Salīm as someone who appreciated and displayed a yearning to learn the truth and was thus interested in scholarship. The work sustains a focus consistent with the prince's image. Given the presence of pandits in his court and his interest in stories, we can surmise that he was told of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha in one of the assemblies described above, whence his desire for a translation of the text in Persian was born. Pānīpatī's portrait of the prince and the work in the preface qualifies the received image of Jahāngīr, often projected as someone fond of drink and who, when he ascended the throne, had little concern with the management of the state, which he handed over to his queen, Nūr Jahān. In Pānīpatī, we thus have valuable support for several recent studies about the emperor. 21 We know that Jahāngīr was interested in taṣ avvuf and that he cultivated an interest in Indic traditions. We also know that Jahāngīr continued Akbar's policy of encouraging Hindus and Muslims to appreciate each other's traditions. 22 The translator's preface is followed by a long introduction entitled "Muqaddamah-yi kitāb-i Jūgbasisht," 23 which seems to adapt Abhinanda's introduction to his Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. Abhinanda, we noted above, prepared a shortened version of the extended Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, considering the latter to be dauntingly long; he divided his redaction into six chapters, with each chapter further subdivided into sections. The first section of the first chapter begins with the frame story, which contains the dialogue between the sage Bharadvāja and Vālmīki; it begins with Bharadvāja addressing Vālmīki, his master, thus: O Perfect Master, it is not hidden from you that this world is a trap for animate beings, a place for the imprisonment of those who are oblivious. Be gracious enough to tell me in detail about Rām Chand. He, with all his many spiritual and physical per- The translation, in most of the manuscripts, concludes the sage Vasiṣ t ̣ha's advice as follows: Know it for certain that the fortunate one who mobilizes all his strength and surrenders his heart to the remembrance of Truth, sitting in a corner, even if he appears to be destitute, acquires a stature which allows him to see all the things of the world, such as honor, status and wealth, as lower even than blades of grass. . . . This world, and whatever is visible in it, all are spectacles of the beauty of the Truth and manifestations of Absolute Being. You have seen the Hidden Light, reflected in so many forms and shapes and you have believed in this [false] knowledge of yours and have tied your heart to it. My last guidance and the substance of well-wishing for you is that so long as you say, "This is me, this is from me," you will remain imprisoned in toil and sorrow. Cross the boundaries of your own self. Consider yourself engrossed in the remembrance of Truth. Do not attribute any act to your own self. Be free from all toils and sorrows. That Hidden Beauty, that Absolute Existence which knows no bounds, that is so terse and without qualities, pure from all names and signs and attributions, and His Person, is above rising and setting, birth and dying, youth and old age, remains always in the same position. The complete and ultimate recognition of Him is that under no circumstance should one see one's own self, and in all circumstances one should surrender oneself to Him, to hide oneself from one's own eyes. After you have surrendered yourself and have given all your acts, speech, hearing, giving, taking-in sum, all your silences, your stillness, and your motion-to Him and know that everything is from Him, make this recognition of Him the achievement of yourself. This is the ultimate goal of those who know God. 25 24 Ibid., 12. 25 Ibid., 483. It should be noted, however, that not all manuscripts of Pānīpatī's work end here. One manuscript in fact continues beyond this point for several pages and ends in the following fashion: "Basisht said, 'O Rām Chand, leave this task, and with full concentration and without any lust and desire, enter the business of the world ðkār o bār-i ʿālamÞ.' " Here the forty-second sarga of the nivan prakaran ends. "Bālmik said, 'O Bharadwāj, Vasista Rsi [Vasiṣ t ̣ha ṛ ṣ i] narrated to Rām Chand this account of the wonders and miracles, which are like the boats of the ocean of the world, in eighteen days. To hear these stories which give you the recognition of God, so many devatās, ṛ ṣ is, siddhas, gandharvas, Brahmins, and great kings assembled. All throughout these days, from the fountain that sprang from the mouth of Vasiṣ t ̣ha ṛ ṣ i, they drank this elixir. Finally, they left for their own places.' Rām Chand, having heard these stories ðlike the ocean without waves and like flower petals falling the sky upon the head of Rām Chand, who himself was the form of Viṣ ṇ u that had descended upon himÞ, in this way acquired jogabhyas and jnānrup [ jñāna-rūpa] and became desireless. After that, Rām Chand came to his father, Rāja Dasrat [Rāja Daśaratha] and to his brothers. He then paid his respects ðnamaskārÞ to Vāsiṣ t ̣ ha ṛ ṣ i and said to him, "O perfect preceptor, because of your attention Thereafter, the benefits and many blessings that accrue from the reading of the text are listed.
THE YOGAVĀSIṢ Ṭ HA OF SHAIKH QUṬ B-I JAHĀNĪ Although Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's translation was produced in the court, it appears to have gained currency outside of the court as well. It is noteworthy, then, that Shaikh Qut ̣b-i Jahānī, within a short while of Pānīpatī's work being available, set about producing his preferred version of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, based on the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha-sāra. It begins thus: "This is a treatise titled At ̣vār dar Ḥ all-i Asrār, [whose purpose is] to write the accomplishments of Basisht and Rām Chand, who achieved the search of gnosis and brought it out from behind the veil. It was translated into Persian and given another garb." 26 And this is how the first chapter, or way ðt ̣aurÞ, begins: Basisht says: I prostrate myself respectfully and sincerely to that steady Light which is eternally stable and fixed in one place. Restlessness does not find a path to it. He who is pure and free from any connections with all directions, peripheries, times, and places, about whom we cannot say that he is in the east or that he is in the west, or in the south or the north, whether above or below, in time or in space; there is no beginning or end for him. Instead, he is eternal, steady for all time, the one who is exact knowledge and gnosis, and the path to find him is nothing but the knowledge of one's own self. The ḥ adīth "Man ʿarafa nafsahu faqad ʿarafa rabbahu" ð"Verily he who knew his self knew his Lord"Þ points to the same gnosis. Basisht says: The addressee of these noble words and worthy of these subtle ways and conduct is the seeker of the path of investigation, the one who intends to liberate himself from the prison of this world, who emerges from "kun wa makun" ð"be and not be"Þ and who wants to manifest himself in oneness and colorlessness, freeing himself from whatever else exists. 27 26 Qut ̣b-i Jahānī, Risāla-yi At ̣vār, 47. The text proceeds to give a summary of its contents: "It comprises over ten at ̣vār, or ways, alluding to various practices on the mystical path: the first is the description of tajrīd, celibacy; the second is the description of the fact that the world is just an illusion ðkhayālÞ; the third deals with liberation; the fourth-the bliss of the heart ð jamiʿīyatÞ; the fifth-the removal of desire; the sixth describes knowledge ðmaʿrifatÞ of the self; the seventh, knowledge of Truth; the eighth concerns the discovery of the self; the ninth treats knowledge of one's own condition; and the tenth deals with the perfection of the knowledge of Truth." 27 Ibid., 47. and kindness, all the doubts that I had in my heart have now disappeared. My heart is now at peace, free from heat or cold, sorrow and happiness, good and evil. With your sunlight, you have removed the evil of the world ðmohaÞ, which is a great darkness ðandhakārÞ." Vasiṣ ṭ ha, hearing this from Rām Chand, was pleased. Then all the devatās, ṛ ṣ is, gandhārvas and siddhas came and paid their respects to Rām Chand, saying, "O Rām Chand, with your grace and because of you, we heard this most perfect knowledge; and it is to you masters [i.e., Vasiṣ t ̣ha and Rām], who are the removers of the sorrows and evils of the world, that we pay our respects and take our leave." ' " ðIbid., editors' comments; epilogue, 488-89Þ Qut ̣b-i Jahānī then begins the speech of Vasiṣ t ̣ha Muni as follows: "Basisht says: O Rām Chand, the attachments of the world are a terrible disease and its medicine is nothing but continuous thought: 'Who am I, and what is this world? From where did it emerge?'" 28 Nowhere in the text is there any mention of the many stories that abound in the original Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha and that contribute to its distinctive message and means. The text thus does not give any sense of the framing story of Vālmīki and Bharadvāja, nor does it explain the reason why the discourse was given and recorded or for whom it was originally intended. Similarly, the text ends without any reference to what happened to Rāma after Vasiṣ t ̣ha's discourse. 29 We may, perhaps, assume that this presentation of the text amounts to a substantial selection of the philosophy contained in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha already available in Persian translation by Pānīpatī rather than a continuous translation; however, the author gives the impression that he translated the work, not that he merely abstracted from any other translation. That this text is divided into ten chapters also does not support thinking it a selection prepared on the basis of a previous translation. Qut ̣b-i Jahānī dedicated the translation to Jahāngīr, but we do not know whether the translation was commissioned by the emperor. Hamchū āb ast īn sukhan bi jahān Pāk o dānish fazāī chūn Qurʾān 28 Ibid., 48. 29 The text concludes as follows: "O Rām Chand, keep thinking that you are the exact truth. See, find out, and always bear in mind the following: I am that pure and subtle [reality] that has become manifest in several forms. This world is the [manifestation] of the plurality of my appearances ðlibāsÞ. I am all in service and also in control. I am pure and detached from everything. When you know this and act upon it, you will attain the exact truth in which there remains no trace of doubt, and it [this truth] will come to light through your actions. Whatever I have expressed to you, Rām Chand, if you regard yourself as one, you will be one. But if you regard yourself as many, you will be many. For one continuously appears to be many, just as the moon, which has only one existence, is seen in many pots [filled with water]. But, when you see it with the inner eye, you understand, and you find that all are one. There is absolutely no plurality and multiplicity" ðibid., 64Þ. Findiriskī's text is also a summary of sorts. In fact, it is not even divided into chapters like Quṭb-i Jahānī's text. It reads instead like a long essay or perhaps a commentary on selected themes of the philosophy of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. The first three pages are prefatory, beginning with the praise of God identified as Brahm ðSanskrit: brahmanÞ, who is absolute light, pure reason, joy embodied, which descended and thus left its absolute position to create the world of duality and plurality. It is on the fourth page of the edited text that the discussion begins: "Now I tell you about the Oneness of God and the emergence of plurality ðhālā sukhan dar vaḥ dat . . . mī-kunamÞ, and thereby explain to you the reality of Creation, how that One person ð z̲ ātÞ with perfect attributes became several persons ð z̲ āt-hāÞ, in what way He expressed himself into so many creatures." 31 In the following 120 pages, there are two or three more discussions of various subthemes, at each point indicated by variations of the phrase "Now I tell you." 32 More notably, unlike the previous Persian versions, nowhere is the sage Vasiṣ t ̣ha shown to be addressing or teaching Rām Chandra. Moreover, while in Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's text there are virtually no Sanskrit words, in Findiriskī's text, the critical Sanskrit technical terms are provided in their original form and are chosen by Findiriskī for further elaboration. Examples include such central terms of Indic theology as Brahm ðbrahmanÞ, chidatman ðcidātmanÞ, jivatman ð jīvātmanÞ, pramatman ð paramātmanÞ, jnan ð jñānaÞ, dhyan ðdhyānaÞ, ahankar ðahaṃ kāraÞ, muja ðmokṣ aÞ, and kriya ðkriyāÞ. This is perhaps the 30  reason why Findiriskī has been referred to as the commentator ðshāriḥ Þ of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha.
The text revolves around a few main themes, told and retold in a variety of metaphors and exhortations: one must, for example, first recognize that the foundation or basis for any reality is one, Brahm, and that all other entities derive from that one reality. Moreover, these forms or entities will themselves be destroyed, but the basis of reality, Brahm, will never perish. Second, one must recognize that mankind's own belief in independent existence is an illusion, and existence is merely a worldly imprisonment. The goal should always be to train the mind on that one from whom existence derives in order to find release from this imprisonment. The text, as can be discerned from these two themes, consistently ponders the question of illusion, deception, and the discernment of reality. 33 One of the most characteristic features of this text is that it is interspersed throughout with Persian verses illustrating the themes mentioned above. 34 Most of these verses are by one Fānī, but there are also several verses from Rūmī, ʿAt ̣t ̣ār, Niʿmat-Allāh Valī, and the like. Perhaps "Fānī " here names Findiriskī himself, given that he figures so prominently. 35 Findiriskī thus used both prose and poetry in his version. While distinctive, it is yet clearly related to the Persian Yogavāsiṣ t ̣has we have considered above: the concluding statement appears virtually to be a verbatim repro-33 For example, in a striking passage, Findiriskī insists that it is not the sky that is blue but rather the imperfection of the perceiver who believes it to be blue. This is, of course, the metaphor with which Vālmīki's response in the Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha begins, choosing a metaphor often invoked in the Mokṣ opāya and counseling its reader that "overlooking" the manifest color of the sky is an analogue to "overlooking" manifest facts about personal identity. See verse 6 in Vasudeva Sharma Panasikara, ed., Laghuyogavāsiṣ t ̣ ha: Text with Sanskrit Commentary, Vāsiṣṭha-Candrikā ðDelhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1937Þ, 6; cf. Kachru, "Of Forgetting and the Obscure Place of Dreams." In other instances, Findiriskī exhorts the reader to learn how to distinguish a rope from a snake or to recognize that reality is like the water, not the waves that one perceives ðMuntakhab, 27 and 105Þ. For these metaphors ðand other metaphors in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ haÞ, see the extended discussion in Doniger, Dreams, Illusion and Other Realities, 261-68. Findiriskī also describes the characteristics of Brahm in the following way: "He is calm, like water undisturbed by the wind" ðMuntakhab, 35Þ; "He is visible from everywhere, like the sky" ð39Þ; "He is timeless" ð83Þ. duction of the passages with which Niẓ ām Pānīpatī closes his translation, although refined and also studded with the following verses of Ḥ āfiẓ : Ay gadā-yi khānqah, bāz ā, ki dar dair-i mughān, Mī-dahand āb-ī va dil-hā rā tavāngar mī-kunand O fakir of the Sufi hospice, come in Here in the temple of the fire-worshippers They serve a drink And make the hearts rich.
And ʿAt ̣t ̣ar: Chūn hama chīzī-at farāmūsh shud Bar dil o jān bi-gushāyand rāh When all you possess is lost That is when the path opens in your heart and soul. 36 Findiriskī was in India at a time when the Mughal policy of commissioning translations ðor retranslationsÞ of some major Indian religious and secular texts ðlike the Mahābhārata, the Rāmāyaṇ a, and the PañcatantraÞ had encouraged a broad trend of comparative philosophical and gnostic investigations. 37 We may locate his interest in and translation of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha in this social and intellectual milieu. There was also room to examine the points of commonality between different sects and traditions, with an eye toward minimizing the threat of conflict. Given the contemporaneous Safavid emphasis on strict adherence to a particular Shīʿa tradition and intolerance, finding a way to avoid conflict doubtless greatly appealed to Findiriskī. This may be apparent even in the way Findiriskī frames and presents the text, which is not as a projection of the Indic past or present but rather as something within the scope of Persian thought and writing. The profuse use of Persian poetry to illustrate certain points in his text, as well as the deliberately Persian-Sufi linguistic register, would have made a text that could otherwise be dismissed as alien and purely Indic acceptable within the textual horizons of the Persianate elite. The first translation by Niẓ ām Pānīpatī from Akbar's era was literal, while the two from the age of Jahāngīr-Shaikh Ṣ ūfī Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's At ̣vār dar Ḥ all-i Asrār and Abū al-Qāsim Findiriskī's Muntakhab-i Jūg Basisht-are interpretative to greater or lesser degrees. Despite these differences, in all the Persian versions of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha we see a heavier emphasis on the spiritual concerns of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha ði.e., an emphasis on the knowledge of being rather than on the connection between knowledge and action in the world made possible by knowledgeÞ. Indeed, the history of Findiriskī's version of the text is both part and proof of the fact that from Jahāngīr's time onward the text was primarily received as Sufi. Findiriskī, a traveler and newcomer to India who had learned Sanskrit, seems to have been so taken with Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's version of the text ðsince it bore clear filial ties to the philosophy of Ibn ʿArabīÞ that, when it came time to choose a text for his own translation project, he selected not the Upaniṣ ads or the Rāmāyaṇ a but the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. Moreover, he not only improved and expanded on Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's version but seamlessly integrated Persian spiritual poetry into the text, creating a nuanced and deeply personal elucidation of his understanding of Hindu dharma from his Sufi poetic reading of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. As far as preparing the text as a Sufi work, Findiriskī's version represents in some ways an advance beyond Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's work, because of its explicit attention to showing how the ideas in the original text are continuous with, and directly comparable to, those in the Persian Sufi tradition.
It also appears from both Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's and Findiriskī's texts that, in the seventeenth century in certain circles at least, there was a serious effort to engage with the apparent similarities in different religious traditions; this trend, as we know, culminated in Dārā Shukoh's Majmaʿ al-baḥ rain and Sirr-i Akbar. 38 In both interpretative versions of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, their exclusively spiritual concern is detectable even at the level of linguistic register. In this regard, the headings of various chapters in Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's text are instructive. Six of the ten chapters in the treatise ð1, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10Þ have distinctive Sufi overtones: "Tajrīd" ðCelibacyÞ, "Maʿrifat-i Nafs" ðKnowledge of selfÞ, "Maʿrifat-i H Á aqq" ðGnosis/knowledge of truthÞ, "Yāft-i Nafs" own state/conditionÞ, and "Kamāl-i Maʿrifat-i H Á aqq" ðPerfect knowledge of truthÞ. Apart from such a striking emphasis at the outset, there is the case of recurring words in the text, like ʿālam-i fānī ðtransitory worldÞ, z̲ āt-i ḥ aqq ðdivine essenceÞ, and ʿārif ðmystic, gnosticÞ as well as sulūk ðtreading the Sufi pathÞ, murshid ðspiritual guideÞ, and t ̣ālib ðseekerÞ, all of which are terms appropriate for a Sufi text. 39 This immersion in Sufi registers of thought and speech may be seen best, perhaps, in extended examples.
[O Rām Chand, when you are in the company of the people of the Sufi path ðsulūkÞ, and struggle to study the books of the science of the Ṣ ūfīya, that is when you achieve quickly knowledge of the self ðmaʿrifat-i nafsÞ, which is the prime objective, and which you can never achieve through the ages of hard work and effort.] 40 In chapter 6, Vasiṣ t ̣ha says: Ay Rām Chand paydāʾī va nā-paydāʾī-yi ʿālam ki ʿibārat az baqāʾ va fanāʾ ast va qiyāmat va baʿs̱ ishārat bar ān ast az nādānī va az nā-yāft-i tū-st. Chūn yāft-i ḥ aqq dast dahad ʿālam nā-padīd gardad va nīst-i mut ̣laq namāyad. Pas manshaʾ-i vujūd-i ʿālam nādānī ast va fanā-yi ān s̱ amara-yi maʿrifat.
[O Rām Chand, the appearance and the non-appearance of the world, which means eternity ðbaqāʾÞ and transientness/mortality ð fanāʾÞ, and the Day of Judgment ðqiyāmatÞ and resurrection ðbaʿs̱ Þ, is because of your ignorance. When you discover ḥ aqq ðTruthÞ, the world disappears and you see absolute nothingness. Thus, the source of the being/existence ðvujūdÞ of the world ðʿālamÞ is ignorance, and its destruction is the fruit of gnosis ðmaʿrifatÞ.] 41 Findiriskī also contributes to what we may term the creation of a Sufi register for the reception of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. Findiriskī's variation on the Yoga-vāsiṣ t ̣ha, which we have seen to be interspersed with Persian poetry, can be 39 Qut ̣b-i Jahānī, Risāla-yi At ̣vār, 47, 48, and 49. 40 Ibid., 57. 41 Ibid., 58. One might also cite here the opening lines of chap. 7: "Ay Rām Chand har s̱ anā va shukr-ī ki bi ẓ uhūr mī-rasad az hama ḥ aqq va bar ḥ aqq ast ghair-i ḥ aqq dīgar-ī kīst ki tavānad bi-dīn ṣ ifat ẓ uhūr namūd. Pas ḥ amīd va maḥ mūd va ḥ amd har sih ʿayn-i ʿilm-i maʿrifat ast va ẓ uhūr-i ṣ ifat-i ūst balki ʿayn-i ū va ū khud dar hama va bi hama balki ʿayn-i hama va az hama bi niyāz va az hama judā" ðO Rām Chand, whatever praise and thanks that emerge, they are all from God [ḥ aqq] and are all for God [ḥ aqq]. Except God, who else could possess this quality? Thus, the one who praises, and the one praised, and the praise itself-all three are the exact signs of maʿrifat and the appearance of his quality; exactly that and that itself, in all, without all, exactly all and independent and separate from all"; ibid.Þ. appropriately thought of as a Sufi commentary on the selected passages of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. The following verses of Fānī are noteworthy in this respect, elaborating on the idea of Brahm: Its nearness and its distance, its union and its separation, where is that? He himself is the sign of the universe, where is that sign? In His light, there is no space even for a small grain of dust. Everything is mortal, except His face. Know that in His various and countless forms, there is no manifestation ðẓ uhūrÞ other than His own light. It is the same hidden light which manifests itself in a variety of colors and forms. 42 Findiriskī also quotes the following verse, replete with Sufi tropes: We know no-one but God We know not ourselves different from Him All is He, yet we do not see Him We all are, yet we know not. 43 And another instance: The heart came [as] the place of the appearance of the light of epiphany ðmaẓ har-i nūr-i tajallīÞ. The heart came [as] the valley of Sinai for the mount of epiphany ðt ̣ūr-i tajallīÞ. 44 These are but a few examples from a text brimming with Sufi tropes, in particular those offered in proof of the doctrine of the unity of being ðvaḥ dat al-vujūdÞ. Such words as ṣ ūf ī, ṣ afāʾ ðpiety, purityÞ, fanāʾ, and baqāʾ recur throughout the text. Vasiṣ t ̣ha's advice to Rāma is to walk on the path of sulūk. 45 Mojtabāʾī also points out that Findiriskī's translation is compatible in its style and register with his other works. 46 42 Findiriskī, Muntakhab, 33. Later, Findiriskī, again in the words of Fānī, writes: "The essence of this appearance is one Existence / The others exist from this Existence / The multiplicity manifests from the same oneness / It appears one, and it also appears many / The appearance of multiplicity is not different from oneness / For in both the worlds there exists only one God" ðibid., 41Þ. A further example of Findiriskī's Sufi register can be found in another iteration of his interpretation of Brahm: "The pure person ðz̲ āt-i pākÞ of Brahm, in all these forms and manifestations ðmaẓ āhirÞ is nothing but its own manifestation ðẓ uhūrÞ / Whatever exists is nothing but the light of His beauty / You say yes ðbalāÞ and you ask, am I not ðalastuÞ?" ðibid., 37Þ. 43  It is these works, and this interpretive ambition, that form the background of what I will argue is Dārā Shukoh's distinctive translation and the horizon of its relevance and interpretation. For Dārā Shukoh did not simply produce yet one more Sufi Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha.

DĀRĀ SHUKOH'S TRANSLATION
Dārā Shukoh's translation, like that of Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's, follows Abhinanda's Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. Dārā Shukoh, however, leaves out several verses, abbreviates others, and in a number of cases adds a kind of explanatory note from other relevant texts, including some medieval commentaries on Yoga-vāsiṣ t ̣ha. 47 The translation before the standard edition of Chand and Abidi was published twice in the nineteenth century. An Urdu translation, titled Minhāj al-Sālikīn ðPath/practice of the SufisÞ was also published in the nineteenth century. 48 The Urdu title suggests that its translator read Dārā's translation as a Sufi text, continuous with the horizons of the Persian Yogavāsiṣ t ̣has we saw above; arguably, such a reading of Dārā Shukoh was intended to relate his Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha seamlessly with his other writings and was meant to be justified by his other works. This is not unusual. Chand and Abidi also emphasize the text's Vedāntic overtones and its continuity with Sufi registers of thought. 49 Yet Dārā Shukoh does not seem to regard the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha as an exclusively theological and religious work representative of the Hindu other, something to be used only for a project of comparative religion. To him such a reading was only a part, albeit a very important part, of this project. Instead, Dārā Shukoh saw fit to emphasize the political overtones of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha.
Dārā Shukoh embarked on his translation in 1655-56 ðAH 1066Þ. It is important to recall that by this point he had constructed and established his own self-image as an exemplary Sufi. Indeed, in the self-description found in his other works, he appeared to cast himself almost as a spiritual master, beyond even the rhetorical conventions of Sufi literature. 50 His break with the purely Sufi reception of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha is then significant. To the historical context we must further add that, by this time, Dārā Shukoh had clearly articulated his political ambition for the Mughal throne and had begun various machinations to achieve this aim against the other claimants in the court. 51 It is in this dual context ði.e., a prince whose self-image was that of a Sufi and who now sought to establish his political claims to the throneÞ that we may best locate the significance of his turning to the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha.
There are several features of Dārā Shukoh's scholarly engagement with the text ðand not only as a claimant for the throneÞ that reward close attention, from his production of a textual basis for the translation to the interpretive registers through which he sought to understand the work. For the prince, by his own account, seemed dissatisfied not simply with the existing translations or the way the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha had been interpreted, but even with the textual bases on which earlier translations had been prepared. 52 He therefore laid out new criteria by which his translation was undertaken, commissioning the production of a new source text before the translation was even begun. In this source text itself, he brought to bear other texts, including commentaries on the Gītā, the Yogaśāstra, and even the Purāṇ as. 53 The translation is not necessarily Dārā Shukoh's solitary achievement; indeed, there seem to have been several scholars involved in preparing the text that formed the basis of the translation, including several pandits who dictated the text to others who, in turn, transcribed it. 54 In this context, it should be noted that while the prince is referred to in the third person ðas the person who requests or commands the translation to be prepared "under his auspices"Þ, he is careful to emphasize that it is he who will confirm the research of the scholars under his supervision ð"Mī-kh v āham īn kitāb-i mustat ̣āb rā bihtar az ān dar hużūr-i mā tarjuma kunand va sukhanān-i īn ṭ āʿifa rā mut ̣ ābiq-i taḥ qīq ki dar aks̱ ar-i maużaʿ taqrīr kunam"Þ. 55 However, in what did his supervision consist? Does it imply that he contributed enough to be legitimately called the translator of the text? This is an ambiguous issue, since his reported command for the preparation of the text also includes evidence of his own research and interpretation. More generally, Dārā tries to internalize the message of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha within the Persianate world, without constantly marking the source text as a cultural Other. The editorial and workmanlike ways in which Dārā Shukoh attempts to render the text continuous with the horizons of literary Persian are of interest, precisely because here we may see Dārā at his most continuous, and yet distinctive, with respect to earlier works on the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. We return to the message in the next section, but here we focus on the details and the texture of his translation.
From the preface, it is clear that Dārā Shukoh wanted to be very lucid in this new translation about the Persian equivalents of the original Sanskrit terms. To avoid confusion, however, he advises that the first time a term occurs it should be translated or interpreted in Persian but in the course of the text, when the term occurs again, he wanted this interpretation to be repeated or even to use the original Sanskrit term, in order for the reader to become familiar with the term in both languages. ðThis is in accord with his other translated works to which he appended glossaries, like the Majmaʿ al-Baḥ rain.Þ More striking still are the lexical choices made in the story. For instance, when Rāma addresses Viśvāmitra, he calls him not rikshir or rikshir-i kāmil, an awkward borrowing found in Pānīpatī's work, but simply ustād ðmasterÞ, dānā-yi buzurg ðthe wise elderÞ, brahman-i hama-dān ðthe all-knowing BrahminÞ, and buzurg-i hama-dān ðthe all-knowing elderÞ. 57 Another example of such felicitous transcreation can be found in the episode in which Viśvāmitra approaches King Daśaratha with the demand that he allow Rāma leave to travel to the forest in order to destroy the demons. Dārā Shukoh translates the source of this evil with the generic Persian term shayāt ̣īn ðdevilsÞ, whereas Pānīpatī faithfully renders this with rakshas ðdemons, after the Sanskrit rākṣ asaÞ, even explaining them to be followers of Rāvaṇ a. 58 Clearly, Dārā Shukoh's choice of terms was more attuned to the Persian ear.
This does not, however, mean that Dārā's text is more Persianized or Arabicized. On the contrary, in Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's text we see on occasion such heavily Persianized and Arabicized expressions as "bārak-Allāh" or "aḥ santa, aḥ santa," 59 which are absent from Dārā Shukoh's version. Dārā Shukoh also tried to avoid unnecessary parenthetical interpolations, as exemplified by Pānīpatī's equivalents for the months of Kunwar and Kartik with Persian Mihr or Ābān or redundant phrases like "as it is written in the reliable texts of the people of Hind" ðdar kutub-i muʿtabar-i ahl-i hindÞ and "according to Hindu belief " ðdar iʿtiqād-i hunūdÞ. 60 Dārā Shukoh's attentiveness to the Persian literary palate goes even further. For example, the "Bairag Prakaran" ðChapter of disenchantment, or vairāgya-prakaraṇ a in SanskritÞ follows the preface immediately in Dārā Shukoh's text, excising the preface of Abhinanda found in Pānīpatī's version. Certainly, this excision indicates Dārā Shukoh's relatively lesser dependence on Abhinanda's recension and his access to a wider set of Indic texts. However, in removing this preface, certain particularities pertaining to the "Hindu dharma" found in it, like the meanings of the words avatāra and yuga, are eliminated; it is as if Dārā Shukoh found them to be distractions from what he deemed to be the central message of the text. This conjecture is further supported by Dārā Shukoh's tactful avoidance of such concepts as the transmigration of souls, which are reported faithfully in Pānīpatī's version. 61 The prince clearly judged such concepts, which would only serve unnecessarily to distance Persian Muslim readers from the text, to be ancillary to the primary message.
Perhaps in these examples we may understand Dārā Shukoh's significant claim that earlier translators "could not raise the veil from the bride of nuanced ideas that resides in the book" ðaz chihra-yi ʿarūsān-i daqāʿiq-i ū parda bar-nadāshtandÞ. 62 As part of his effort to unveil this bride, Dārā Shukoh significantly and intentionally simplified the text.
A comparison between Pānīpatī's text and Dārā Shukoh's translation can illustrate the extent to which Shukoh accomplished this. Thus, Pānīpatī's version is much longer than Dārā Shukoh's translation, following almost exactly Abhinanda's original text. Dārā Shukoh's text is significantly shorter, in spite of the fact that he brought in illuminating interpolations from other Indic texts, as we have shown above. This mechanical comparison aside, we must also ask for what purpose and how did the prince summarize the text? We have seen that, unlike Findiriskī and Quṭb-i Jahānī, Dārā Shukoh attaches importance to the stories themselves, reproducing them albeit in shortened form, but he does so selectively. Thus, Dārā Shukoh's dissatisfaction with Findiriskī's and Quṭb-i Jahānī's method of redaction was also because of their exclusive focus on philosophy, eliminating the valuable lessons that the stories provide. And yet Dārā Shukoh's text is precise and lucid. Rather than translating the stories verbatim, he describes them in a clear, uncluttered, and focused manner, avoiding the digressive details in the Sanskrit text. He does so because his intellectual concern in rendering this text into Persian was to 60 Ibid., 29, 35, 41, and 42. 61 Ibid., 13, 29, and 53. 62 Shukoh, Jūgbashist, 3. keep it accessible and readable for a Persianate audience, without losing the substance of the work, including its use of stories. 63

THE POLITICAL ORIENTATION OF DĀRĀ SHUKOH'S TEXT
We have so far examined Dārā Shukoh as a textual editor, facilitating the continuity and reception of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha in Persianate literary culture. We may see this as one way in which his efforts sought to go beyond his predecessors, even while furthering their aims. But we must now attend to Dārā's political interpretation of the text, paying attention to the political context for his interest in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. A point worth noting here is that the prince is mentioned in hyperbolic terms, indicating that he is a king ðshāhÞ, a highly accomplished saintly figure, and also the perfect manifestation ðmaẓ har-i atammÞ of virtuous conduct, with high ethical virtues ðmakārim-i akhlāqÞ. 64 Let us begin this analysis with one striking example of how Dārā Shukoh brings a larger universe of Indic texts into conversation with his translation, an episode in which the reasons for an erstwhile conflict between the sages Vasiṣ t ̣ha and Viśvāmitra is given. Significant here is that while Niẓ ām Pānīpatī alludes to the conflict between the two sages and the sermon given to them by Brahma after resolving this conflict, he does not elaborate on this episode. 65 Dārā Shukoh, however, ensures that this episode is included and sets forth the actual circumstances of the conflict as depicted in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, including in his translation allusions that an Indic audience could have been expected to know. At the point in the narrative when this conflict is first mentioned, Viśvāmitra says to Vasiṣ t ̣ha: 63 A cursory comparison of one chapter in Dārā Shukoh's with Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's version of the text can show us this. For example, in Pānīpatī's version, before chap. 6 begins, there is a four-page preface explaining at length the topic, the number and names of the stories, and a summarized account of the philosophy of Yoga. This is totally absent in Dārā Shukoh's version. Following this preface, Pānīpatī further devotes four pages to a discussion of the philosophy of this chapter before the first story begins. This is reduced to a mere introductory paragraph in Dārā Shukoh's work, which plunges right into the first story ðPānīpatī, Jug Basisht, 287-90 and 291-94; Shukoh, Jūgbashist, 161Þ. Again, while Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's final chapter is an intimidating 197 pages, Dārā Shukoh renders it into a concise fifty-six pages. This concision is achieved partly by summarizing the stories effectively: e.g., the first story of Busunda takes eighteen pages in Pānīpatī's and only nine in Dārā Shukoh's translation. Further, Dārā Shukoh eliminates certain stories altogether: e.g., after the story of Vasiṣ t ̣ha meeting with Mahādev and the discourse on true worship, on which Pānīpatī dilates largely through the lengthy descriptions of Mahādev, Dārā Shukoh's version goes straight from the story of Arjuna and Kṛ ṣ ṇ a to that of the kings Bhagīrath and Sukhdej; Pānīpatī's version has three intervening stories, spread over eight pages ðPānīpatī, Jug Basisht, 357-65Þ. Niẓ ām Pānīpatī's expansive style is strikingly exemplified by his rendering of the story of Sukhdej that is spread over sixty-eight pages, which Dārā Shukoh provides in nineteen pages ðPānīpatī, Jug Basisht, 376-444; Shukoh, Jūgbashist, 227-46Þ. 64 Shukoh, Jūgbashist, 3. 65 Pānīpatī, Jug Basisht, 55.
"Remember the time when there was enmity between us and we were ready to fight against each other. Brahma then came and forged an understanding between us. As a result, we were then freed from the stabbing reproaches against each other and the prideful nature of our conflict. It so happened that thereafter our enmity turned into our friendship and love. Tell Rām Chand the same things which Brahma told us then." When Viśvāmitra finished his speech, Vyas ["Vyāsa"] and Narad ["Nārada"], who were among those present in the audience, applauded him. Basisht then said, "O Viśvāmitra, it is wise on my part to accept your advice. Whatever Brahma had then said in order to remove the doubts and suspicions, I remember all those things completely." In brief, the story of this enmity between Viśvāmitra and Vasiṣ t ̣ha is written here. Viśvāmitra was the son of Rāja Gadi. One day, when out on a hunt, he passed by the place of the worship of Vasiṣ t ̣ha, who requested him to grace his abode as a guest. Thereupon, Viśvāmitra laughed and said, "You are a faqīr, you are a darvīsh, what hospitality can you offer me?" Vasiṣ t ̣ha said, "Whatever comes to me, I will offer to you." Thereupon, he made arrangements for his guest, bringing him wonderful and copious amounts of food, sweetmeats, perfumes, and fresh fruit. In fact, he brought more even than what was necessary for the king's table. Viśvāmitra, seeing this, was astonished. One of his servants remarked that Vasiṣ t ̣ha keeps the Kamdin [i.e., Kāmadhenu, the wish-granting cow] in his house, and whatever one asks of her, she gives. Viśvāmitra, as he was leaving, asked Vasiṣ t ̣ha to give him this cow. Vasiṣ t ̣ha said, " If the cow is amenable, then take her." Viśvāmitra replied that if Vasiṣ t ̣ha gives him the cow, he would take it. In the meanwhile, Kamdin asked Vasiṣ t ̣ha, "What fault have I committed that you are throwing me out of your house?" Vasiṣ t ̣ha said, "I am not making you leave out of my own choice. King Viśvāmitra is taking you forcibly." Kamdin said, "If you are not giving me to him willingly, then I will take care of things myself." When Kamdin left Vasiṣ t ̣ha's house, on the way, from each drop of Kamdin's sweat which fell on the ground because of the hot wind, a brave man was born. These brave men then destroyed the army of Viśvāmitra in the blink of an eye. Viśvāmitra then alone fled, and Kamdin returned to Vasiṣ t ̣ha's house. Viśvāmitra, in a rage, invaded Vasiṣ t ̣ha's house several times and each time, Kamdin destroyed his whole army.
Finally, the defeated Viśvāmitra said, "Fie on the Chatri [Kṣ atriya] and fie on his power! The Brahmin is the truly powerful." He then resolved to become a Brahmin. With this determination, he became engaged in ascetic mortifications ðriyāżāt va mujāhadaÞ for sixty thousand years, during which time Brahma visited him a couple of times and asked him, "What do you want?" Viśvāmitra replied, "I want to be a Brahmin." Brahma said, "Since you are of the Chatri lineage, become a Raj Rsi [rājarṣ i]." A Raj Rsi is the king who has the power of rishis, the seers who have the knowledge of the past and the future. Viśvāmitra did not agree to this, and again immersed himself in ascetic mortifications. Eventually Brahma said, "If this is truly your desire, then become a Brahmin, a Brahm Rsi." Then Viśvāmitra said, "If Vasiṣ t ̣ha calls me a Brahm Rsi then only will I accept this status." At Brahma's request, Vasiṣ t ̣ha too agreed. 66 power. This is the problem at the heart of Bharadvāja's question to Vālmīki regarding how Rāma could be king while having once achieved the highest stage of spiritual life ðjivanmuktiÞ. Thus, Pānīpatī initially describes Rāma's predicament not as one of rulership but simply as living with God's creatures ðbā khalq-i khudāÞ, even as the Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha has been often read as if the question concerned the more general "being in time as suffering" ðsaṃ sāraÞ and not specifically political forms of activity. In contrast, Dārā Shukoh introduces from the very beginning his concerns with rule and power ðrāj and salt ̣anatÞ. But it is not simply that Dārā Shukoh is projecting his own concerns onto those of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha. Abhinanda's Laghu Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha also touches on not only how one can continue to engage in saṃ sāra, the world described theologically, but, to use its own terms, how one can engage in the kind of action constitutive of political life ð"rāmo vyavahṛ to hy as-minkāruṇ yād brūhi me guru"; verse 4Þ. This emphasizes not an existential sense of being in time but rather the interaction between beings according to the norms of governance. It is more than possible that Dārā Shukoh is not translating in his concerns but emphasizing the salience of this dimension of Bharadvāja's question. After all, he does use both saṃ sāra ðthe world conceived of as suffering through rebirthÞ and vyavahāra ðthe social worldÞ to frame his question. 70 It is therefore not surprising that Dārā Shukoh's translation displays a clear focus on the stories in which kings figure prominently and in which the concern of the story is to elucidate the nature of statecraft, even while keeping in mind the overarching spiritual concerns of the work. 71 Pānīpatī's book, being a complete translation, also abounds in stories of kings, but only as a matter of course. Dārā Shukoh renders the many exhortations meant for king Rāmacandra into crisp language and with greater stylistic impact than Pānīpatī.
An early example of how narratives in Dārā's Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha emphasize kings and power is the story of King Janaka in which the focus is on how ignorance is the source of all suffering and on how knowledge enables the king to be free from ego-sense ðahaṃ kāraÞ and to rule without being entangled in material concerns. Summarizing this tale, Vasiṣ t ̣ha says: O Rām Chand, the Naiyāyikas claim that the world and reality are distinct, the Vedāntins claim that they are one, the followers of Patañjali claim that the world is in part a reality separate from the great reality of God. However, the essence of all three opinions returns to the same thing, like the waves of the sea, which, even if they appear different, eventually merge with the greater body of water. The essence of all 70 See Panasikara, Laghuyogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, 5. I owe this reference to Sonam Kachru. 71 See Shukoh, Jūgbashist, 130, 198, and 377, for such stories of kings. these waves is the ocean. O Rām Chand, from all this research, it becomes clear that you too should be detached from the world, and also be one with the world. Perform the works of the world in appearance, but don't be polluted. You tell your acquaintances that so-and-so is your son and so-and-so is your brother, but consider them all as one. 72 This latter point seems to dovetail beautifully with Dārā Shukoh's longstanding interest in the unity of different religious traditions, an interest that was amply expressed in his work of reading and analyzing other Indic texts too. Indeed, the title of one of his works, as we know, is The Meeting of the Oceans ðMajmaʿ al-Baḥ rainÞ. We also know that he prepared a long glossary of Sanskrit terms with their equivalents in Persian. This same purpose is manifest in this translation too. In the course of his teachings, Vasiṣ t ̣ha once notes: O Rām Chand, I present before you also the path of gnosis that Mahādev taught me. At the time when I was worshipping on Mount Kailāsa, I kept before me academic books and beautiful flowers. It was the twentieth day of the month of Sawan, and four gharis of the night had passed when I saw a light emerging from the distance. I saw Mahādev approaching with his hand placed over Pārvatī's shoulder. Immediately, I picked up the flowers in my hand and moved forward to welcome him. I placed the flowers and some water by his feet, and in all humility and respect, I brought them to my hut. He sat for some time and then asked me, "Have you accomplished the level of worship which knows no division ðʿibādat-i tafriqaÞ? Has your heart been relieved with Truth? Are you free from fear and apprehension?" I replied, "The person who has been habituated to your memory, in him remains no division ðtafriqaÞ or fear. Is there any objective left that he has not achieved? Since you have illumined this place with your coming, may I dare ask you, what is that worship of god ðdev-pūjaÞ which contains in itself all the perfections and virtues?" Mahādev replied, "Don't regard Viṣ ṇ u, Brahma, Mahādev, and the other bodies and souls as God. Dev [deva] is that which has no origin and no end, which has no form, no appearance, and no resemblance, is neither born nor bred by anyone. Absolute and pure existence, joy itself, and knowledge itself ðanand swarup va gyan swarup; ānandasvarūpa vā jñānasvarūpaÞ. Perform prayer and worship ð pūja and ʿibādatÞ for him. Let the others worship the form. What I mean is as follows: since the people of the world find the form closer and the meaning very far [from their understanding], the perfect masters allowed them to have the form before them initially, so that their heart could remain at peace. After that, step by step, attention is drawn away from the world of form and guided to recognize the real target. Just as to one who has become tired of walking and believes that his destination is very far, someone will say to him that the destination is only one short course away, so that he can imagine the destination is close and thus walking will become less burdensome. O Basisht! Water, flowers, rice, sandal, agarwood, and the lamp are all the requisites of worship of the imagined forms. 72 Ibid., 168.
The requisites of the worship of the real God ðDevÞ are altogether different. The water required for him is knowledge, the flower is monotheism ðtauḥ īdÞ, the rice is lawful livelihood, the sandal is the purity of the inner soul, and the agarwood is the heat of love, while the lamp is the light in the heart. If by any chance this God has a face, head, hand, or leg, then his form is the entire universe. His head is the pinnacle of the sky ðākāśaÞ, his leg is the abyss of the underworld ð patalÞ, his hand extends to the furthest point in all directions. All eyes and all ears are his eyes and his ears. The wise man worships such a God. His worship is this: that he could be believed to be present in seeing, in hearing, in smelling, in tasting, in touching, in exhaling, in wakefulness, and in sleep; that is to say, the worshipper knows that he is the seer, the listener, the speaker, the taster, the one who touches, the one who breathes, the wakeful, and the dreamer are all he. A moment of his remembrance results in limitless fruit. If you remember him for a full day, you become the perfect gnostic and arrive at the stage of release ðmukt [mukti]Þ. This is what jog [ yoga] is, and this is what Dev pūja is. The best worship of him is that you look into your own self, you know your own self, and you consider him present in joy, grief, relief, in trouble; when you are rich and when you are destitute; and in all these conditions, you keep treading the same path, and in no condition do you forget him. O Basisht, when the guidance of the master sits in the heart of the people, divine gnosis emerges automatically." Having said this, Mahādev left. Basisht then said, "O Rām Chand, even today I worship in the same way that Mahādev guided me. I have no connections with anything whatsoever." 73 Mahādev's instruction to Vasiṣ t ̣ha here demonstrates clearly Dārā Shukoh's own Sufic understanding of religious ritual and piety, and here he also sees something in the text that he shared with the earlier Persian translations of it and with his own readings of the other Hindu texts. 74 However, it is noteworthy that immediately after such a section, Dārā's text returns to political issues. In response to this speech, Rāma expressed his delight in his master's teaching and his desire to hear these things again and again. Vasiṣ t ̣ha then advised him to be free from all desire. On hearing this, Rāma asked him to tell him something for the further efflorescence of his heart, in response to which Vasiṣ t ̣ha alluded to the story of Kṛ ṣ ṇ a and Arjuna.
Starting with this most famous episode from the Mahābhārata, told here in the context of the correct channeling of desire, the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha presents a fascinating concatenation of stories of kings. 75 In the idiom of the Yoga-vāsiṣ t ̣ha, the narrative runs thus: when Arjuna saw his relatives on the battlefield and balked at the prospect of killing them, Kṛ ṣ ṇ a explained that these 73 Ibid., 214-17. 74 See also Sirr-i Akbar, Dārā Shukoh's translation of the Upanishads. 75 It is interesting to note that one of the ways in which desire may be channeled correctly is the cultivation of ethical norms in politics, which Dārā Shukoh translates tellingly as tahz̲ īb-i akhlāq. As a device to ensure justice to their subjects, irrespective of their religious identity, the Mughals relied more heavily on akhlāqī norms than on the conventional sharīʿa. See Alam, Languages of Political Islam, 26-69.
were mere forms, illusions. Only the soul that is eternal and has no relation to any one person can never be killed. Death occurs only for the body, not the soul. Kṛ ṣ ṇ a explains that since Arjuna has been born as a Kṣ atriya, it was his duty to act in the battlefield: "To turn your face from the battlefield is the height of cowardice." 76 Of course, this story has deep personal resonance with Dārā's own political situation: the question of how a spiritually accomplished person, as both Arjuna was and Dārā claimed to be, could allow himself to engage in a war of succession against his own brothers haunts both Arjuna and Dārā.
Following this conventional redaction of the well-known story of the Gītā, the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha continues in a different vein, emphasizing the importance of steadiness and firmness in decision making; this point is further illustrated by the story of King Bhagīratha. Vasiṣ t ̣ha exhorts Rāma: "O Rām Chand, steady your own reasoning, so that whatever you encounter, [seemingly] good or bad, you still accomplish [your work]. Like Rāja Bhagīratha, be firm in carrying out your duty. This is how the difficult works which others cannot carry out will become easy for you." 77 After relating this exemplary story of King Bhagīratha, Vasiṣ t ̣ha continues, "O Rām Chand, with a steady heart and in a fully relaxed manner, sit in communion with the pramatman [parātman], like Rāja Sakraduj [Śikradhvāja]." 78 Vasiṣ t ̣ha then relates the story of this king. In this manner, Dārā Shukoh's text unfolds as a series of stories about kings in a more explicit, direct, and precise manner.

DĀRĀ'S DREAM RECONSIDERED
Before we conclude, we must return to the beginning of Dārā Shukoh's Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha and note that his immediate inspiration for translating the text came from a dream that he experienced after reading Qut ̣b-i Jahānī's version: gave Rām Chand a sweetmeat, and he offered it to me to eat with his own hands. I ate that sweetmeat. After seeing this in actuality ðwāqiʿÞ, the yearning to have a new translation grew. 79 Here we may pause to note something of importance: this is the reported dream of the prince, in which he not only finds himself in the company of Rāma and Vasiṣ t ̣ha but is recognized by them as of their kind-as a seeker of truth. Dreams are, of course, important both in Sufi and Indic traditions. In his own Sufi works as well, the prince claims to have seen unusual dreams. 80 Yet this dream of being recognized and placed in a genealogy of seekers of truth, fulfilling as it does the twin criteria of royal authority and spiritual virtues based on being a seeker of truth, deserves special attention, not least because of the central function of dreaming ðas a vehicle and topic of storiesÞ stressed by the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha itself.
One way to begin thinking about this striking dream is to recall the function of the frame story. Here Dārā Shukoh sees himself not at the inception of the book, which begins with the conversation between Vālmīki and Bharadvāja, but in a frame before the time of the book, as it were: he imagines himself a part of the conversations between Rāma and Vasiṣ t ̣ha, which Vālmīki recalls for us. Dārā Shukoh has thus envisioned himself in the time not of the book but of the events that the book presents to us and from which the book derives. By virtue of this dream, Dārā, who ostensibly lives long after the time depicted in the work, not to mention the work itself, has gone to the very source of its knowledge.
That there is a world in which multiple temporalities are possible, such that Rāma and Vālmīki are still present and enjoying the conversations that Vālmīki reports to us as having occurred in the past, is something that the message of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha itself might encourage us to believe. Dārā's dream then is a continuation, of a kind, of the form and message of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha.
But there is a striking convergence with the Sufi tradition as well. There is a well-known practice of Sufis to seek sanction for treating a subject not from a book but from the very person about whom the book is concerned, and this sanction comes in the form of a true vision disclosed by a dream. These visions disclose the always-contemporary character of historical ex-79 Ibid., 4. 80 Compare, e.g., Sakīnat al-Auliyā, in which Dārā Shukoh mentions an angel ðhātif Þ telling him in a dream four times that God bestowed on him what no other king on earth did ever got ð5Þ. emplars, even if such visions are only the preserve of a few, as Dārā Shukoh here presents himself to be. A more striking way to frame the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha as a Persianate work-and to accomplish the rapprochement of Indic and Islamic traditions-is hard to imagine. CONCLUSION Dārā Shukoh's translation represents a conscious break from the previous Mughal Yogavāsiṣ t ̣has: his version was a novel attempt to include an Indic text within the Muslim imagination, not just of mystical matters but of ideal kingship. The Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha's imaginaire, in which Rāma is depicted both as a spiritual master and also as an ideal king, had obvious resonances for Dārā Shukoh's own career and ambitions. The text thus also represents an important move on Dārā Shukoh's part to prepare for the ascension to the throne, by casting his future kingship in the model of the ideal Rāma.
However, we can also see that Dārā Shukoh's text was a plea to consider other sources for normative theories of kingship in the Mughal court. The Mughal search for such theories had been dominated by Perso-Islamic akhlāq literature, which drew on Greco-Hellenic traditions as gleaned through Arabic and Persian sources. We have a sort of a European mirror for princes compiled in Persian by the Jesuit Jeronimo Xavier and presented to the Jahāngīr, in which Xavier discusses the norms of governance ðādāb-i salt ̣anatÞ, with illustrations from the stories of biblical, Roman, and also the medieval and early modern European kings. 81 All this is indicative of the Mughal rulers' quest for political theories and practices outside the boundaries of the sharīʿa and Islam. Akbar's interest in the Mahābhārata could be taken as a sign of his curiosity about India's political culture, 82 yet for him, there was not much urge to know and follow the Indic government norms.
In contrast, Dārā Shukoh's reading of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha is a marked departure. He presents it as an Indic source for a normative theory of kingship suitable for the Mughal court. As such, this was a step in the direction of the indigenization of the state in Mughal India. Akbar integrated the local elites, including the Hindu Rajputs, into his government, to the extent that the Mughal-Rajput alliance has sometimes been seen as a Mughal-Rajput state. 83 But neither in Ṭ ūsī ðd. 1274Þ, the premier representative of the akhlāq tradition, nor in Jeronimo Xavier's iteration of the European tradition does one find that a saint can also be a king without violating the norms of one or the other. We may note here, however, a recent study, which shows how the early Mughals, pursuing their Central Asian ancestors and the Iranian rulers, projected themselves as sacred and saintly kings. 84 Nevertheless, I propose here that it is only in the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha that Dārā Shukoh found a model for the Indian saint-king, on which presumably he would have gone on to build the moral foundations of his own reign. It is in the dream of Dārā, where, true to the teachings of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha concerning time and narrative, the prince finds himself in the company of a counterfactual genealogy, where Dārā is the younger brother of Rāma, his elder and contemporary.
Dārā Shukoh is thus not merely a Sufi scholar or Mughal prince; he is also a political theorist, in the timeless company-as seen in his dream-of the ideal ruler and seeker of truth, Rāma. The Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha is a book of many worlds that exist alongside our own. Dārā Shukoh, perhaps, was alone in seeing the reality of the political dream it was possible to have on the basis of the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, in which a Persian prince could find himself the successor of Rāma, with access to the possible reality of the ideal political forms, norms of conduct, and governance associated with Rāma. Whether this could only have been a dream-like Dārā's dream with which he began his Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha, a dream of political hope inspired by the Yogavāsiṣ t ̣ha's sense of possible worlds that we must narrate into existence-is another story.