This poignant set of eight verses uses the black bumblebee, bhramara or dvirepha, as a powerful metaphor for the deluded human soul trapped in saṃsāra. Through vivid, tragic images of the bee’s futile pursuits, mistaken attractions, and inevitable suffering, the poem illustrates the folly of attachment, the deceptiveness of sensory pleasures, and the pain caused by ignorance and fate. It evokes deep compassion for all beings entangled in the illusions of saṃsāra, ultimately pointing toward the need for discernment, contentment, and liberation.

This was the very first poem from the book that I came across, and I fell in love with it instantly. I searched everywhere for its translation but could not find one, so I eventually translated it myself, perhaps because I love bees. I love nature and all its elements. I feel they are my sisters in another form, just like other plants and animals, and maybe that is why I find it easier to connect with them than with humans. Haha. I feel there is so much they have to teach us, almost all the time. 

There is something deeply empowering about bees that I still cannot fully put into words. I have watched countless documentaries on them, their colonies, their precision, the way they choose their queen, and the immense sacrifice the queen herself embodies for the survival of the whole. Their ethics are extraordinary, collective responsibility over individual comfort, tireless service without complaint, harmony with nature rather than domination of it, and an instinctive understanding that the good of the whole sustains each part. There is humility in their labor and intelligence in their order, subtle lessons in dharma, seva, and belonging.

That said, this post is not about bees in themselves, but about how they mirror us in a spiritual context. There are so many lessons hidden within this aṣṭakam, waiting patiently to be seen. I am sure you will have your own insights too, and I would love to read them.

This poetry also reminds me of the story of Lord Buddha on the night of his awakening. As he sat in deep meditation beneath the Bodhi tree, Māra appeared, the embodiment of illusion and delusion, the personification of craving, fear, and spiritual ignorance. First, Māra sent his daughters – Tṛṣṇā (thirst or craving), Arati (discontent or aversion), and Rāga (sensual attachment and desire) – to distract him. When that failed, Māra tried fear. When fear failed, he tried doubt. And finally, he tried ego, questioning Buddha’s right to sit there and claim awakening. Buddha responded with stillness, He touched the earth, calling it to witness his countless lifetimes of effort, compassion, and renunciation. The earth trembled in affirmation, and Māra vanished.

In that moment of awakening, it is said that Buddha saw his past lives clearly and understood why he had remained trapped in saṃsāra. The chain was simple yet relentless, craving gives rise to desire, desire strengthens ego, ego leads to attachment and aversion, and attachment binds one to suffering. The root of dukkha was not life itself, but taṇhā, craving. The mind keeps craving more, mistaking it for fulfillment, but greed has no endpoint.

Think of it like a stage on which a play is constantly being enacted. As long as the stage of craving exists, the characters will keep changing. Today it is a necklace, tomorrow a bike, then a car, a house, recognition, power, or even spiritual achievement. The forms keep shifting, but the hunger remains the same. The only way out is not by replacing one desire with another, but by dismantling the stage itself. And that stage dissolves through contentment, through santoṣa, through the deep realisation that what is already present is enough. As we say in Hindi, “Jo prāpt hai, vahī paryāpt hai.”

When we accept life as it is, as His will, this madness of wanting more slowly quietens. Restlessness also arises from comparison and from forgetting gratitude for one’s own lot. I am reminded of the story of Damu Anna, whom Baba advised to remain content with what he had and not chase business ventures promising quick money. Baba knew that peace is worth far more than profit.

In life, no one ever gets everything they desire. But one can learn to desire everything they already have. Cherish it. Praise it. Praise God. Keep doing your karma and play your role sincerely. What is meant for you cannot be taken away. There is a saying that if something is truly yours, it will come to you even from beneath mountains, and if it is not yours, it will slip away even from between your lips. So why waste this precious life chasing what was never meant to be?

At the same time, this does not mean becoming inert or increasing tamas. It means living fully, actively, but not obsessively. Living life to chase something endlessly is a deep disrespect to the soul. I have lived that way for years, and I know how quietly humiliating it feels once you wake up to it. There is nothing in this world truly worth craving. And when it comes to liberation, there is nothing to chase at all. God is already in the palm of your hands and within your heart. Call out with love. He is in your smile, your tears, your surrender, your patience, and in the totality of your being, present from beginningless time.

Bhramarashtakam – Eight Verses on the Bumblebee

1

गन्धाढ्यासौ भुवनविदिता केतकी वर्णवर्णा
पद्मम्भ्रान्त्या क्षुधितमधुपः पुष्पमध्ये पपात।
अन्धीभूतः कुसुमरजसा कण्टकैश्छिन्नपक्षः
स्थातुं गन्तुं द्वयमपि सखे ! नैव शक्तो द्विरेफः॥१॥

Drawn by the world-famous intense fragrance of the multicolored ketakī flower,
the hungry bee mistook it for a lotus and plunged into its centre.
Blinded by the pollen dust, wings torn by sharp thorns –
O friend! the poor bee can now neither stay nor fly away.

• The ketakī (pandanus) has a strong scent but sharp spines inside. The bee, misled by fragrance alone (like the soul by sensory pleasure), enters eagerly but becomes trapped and wounded, symbolising how pursuit of worldly joys leads to bondage and suffering.

2

गन्धाढ्यां नवमल्लिकां मधुकरस्यक्ता गतो यूथिकां
दैवात् ताञ्च विहाय चम्पकवनं पश्चात् सरोजं गतः।
वद्धस्तत्र निशाकरेण विधिना क्रन्दत्यसौ मूढधीः
सन्तोषेण विना पराभवपदं प्राप्नोति मूढो जनः॥२॥

Attracted, the bee left the fragrant fresh jasmine for yūthikā,
then by fate abandoned that for a champaka grove, and finally reached a lotus.
There, closed by the moon’s decree (at night), the foolish-minded bee cries trapped,
without contentment, the deluded person reaches only humiliation.

• The bee restlessly chases ever-new pleasures, only to be trapped when the lotus closes at night. Lack of santosha (contentment) leads to repeated defeat and sorrow.

3

येऽमी ते मुकुलोद्गमादनुदिनं त्वामाश्रिताः षट् पदा-
स्ते भ्राम्यन्ति फलाद्बहि र्बहिरहो ! दृष्ट्वा न सम्भाषसे।
ये कीटास्तव दृक्पथञ्च न गतास्ते त्वत्फलाभ्यन्तरे
धिक् त्वां चूत ! यतः परापरपरिज्ञानामभिज्ञो भवान्॥३॥

O mango tree! Those bees that have depended on you daily since your buds opened
wander outside your fruit, alas!, yet you do not even acknowledge them.
The insects that never came into your sight live inside your fruit.
Fie on you, for you lack discernment between the worthy and the unworthy!

• This is a clear critique of ingratitude, virtuous are ignored, while unworthy ones enjoy the fruit. It symbolises how the world favours the undeserving and neglects the worthy/deserving. It reminds me of Van Gogh, who died by suicide in poverty and now is hailed as one of the greatest painters to have ever existed on earth.

4

नीतं जन्म नवीन-नीरज- वने पीतं मधु स्वच्छया
मालत्याः कुसुमेषु येन सततं केलीकृता हेलया।
तेनेयं मधुगन्धलूब्धमनसा गुञ्जा लता सेव्यते
हा धिग् दैवकृतं स एव मधुपः कां कां दशां नागतः॥४॥

The same bee that spent its life in fresh lotus groves,
drinking pure nectar and playfully sporting on mālati flowers with ease,
now, lured by sweet scent, clings to a worthless guñjā creeper.
Alas! Fie on fate, to what lowly states has that very bee not fallen!

• Tragic fall from refined pleasures to worthless ones illustrates how fate and desire degrade even the once-elevated soul whether materially or spiritually, if one lives a life without discernment. One of Baba’s main teachings is Samata, remaining equanimous/same in times of pleasure and pain, for we never know what the time will bring. Hold onto Him like a helm of a boat.

5

पलाशकुसुमभ्त्रान्त्याः शुकतुण्डे मधुव्रतः।
पतत्त्येष शुकोऽप्ये नं जम्बूभ्रान्त्या जिघांसति॥५॥

Mistaking the bright red palāśa flowers for a parrot’s beak,
the honey-seeking bee rushes toward it,
and the parrot, mistaking the bee for a rose-apple fruit, tries to kill it.

• Chain of fatal misunderstandings: bee mistakes flower for food source, parrot mistakes bee for fruit. It highlights the perilous illusions in saṃsāra, the Trishna I mentioned earlier.

6

दृष्ट्वा स्फीतोऽभवदलिरसौ लेख्यपद्मं विशालं
चित्रं चित्रं किमिति किमिति व्याहरन् निष्पपात।
नास्मिन् गन्धो न च मधुकणा नास्ति तत् सौकुमार्य्यं
घूर्णन्मूर्द्धा वत नतशिरा ब्रीड़या निर्जगाम॥६॥

Seeing a large painted lotus, the bee swelled with joy
and exclaiming “Wonderful! Wonderful! What is this?” plunged in.
There was no fragrance, no nectar, nor even softness,
dizzy-headed, bowing low in shame, it quietly crept out.

• The soul’s disappointment in false worldly attractions that promise but deliver nothing real. The only medicine against this deception is keeping one’s mind firmly fixed on Baba & asking Him for discernment to not embarrass ourselves by going after artificial beauty of the samsara as in case of Damu Anna.

7

अलिरसौ नलिनीवनवल्लवः
कुमुदिनी कुलकेलिकलारसः।
विधिवशेन विदेशमुपागतः
कुटजपुष्परसं बहु मन्यते॥७॥

That bee, once the beloved of lotus groves,
expert in the playful arts of white water-lilies,
now, by cruel fate come to a foreign land,
greatly relishes the nectar of worthless kuṭaja flowers.

8

रात्रिर्गमिष्यति भविष्यति सुप्रभातं
भास्वानुदेष्यति हसिष्यति पद्मजालम्।
इत्थं विचिन्तयति कोषगते द्विरेफे
हा हन्त हन्त! नलिनीं गज उज्जहार!॥८॥

“The night will pass, bright morning will come;
the sun will rise, the lotus cluster will bloom and smile”,
thus consoled itself the bee trapped inside the closed lotus.
Alas! Woe! Woe! An elephant uprooted and destroyed the entire lotus!

• The bee’s comforting thoughts are shattered by unexpected destruction, her false hope leads to sudden catastrophe. This is a stark reminder of the unpredictability and impermanence of worldly refuges be it relationships, career, power, prestige or anything else. It also represents that it is only after repeated blows on ones ego, does one realise that they were wrong or chasing after things which can never give them true happiness. But as the realisation came too late, the time to make amends had passed. Alas! the bee will have to enter the cycle of samsara once again to learn the lesson.

इति भ्रमराष्टकं समाप्तम्।

Thus ends the Bhramarāṣṭakam.

|| OM SAI SHRI SAI JAI JAI SAI || 

|| SHRI SATCHIDANANDA SADGURU SAINATH MAHARAJ KI JAI ||

Note: These verses are part of the Kāvyasaṅgraha, a nineteenth-century Sanskrit poetry collection preserved in archival records of GoI. It brings together subhāṣitas, hymns, and reflective poems that explore life, conduct, desire, devotion, and inner clarity. I don’t necessarily resonate with every view expressed in these texts, especially some social attitudes of their time, including those that speak about women in ways I don’t agree with. I share them not as beliefs to be adopted, but as thoughtful voices from another age, many of which still carry insight worth reflecting on. The translations are my own, done with care and respect for the originals. Mistakes are possible, and I welcome corrections or alternative readings if necessary and share them in the hope that whatever wisdom they carry may reach those who find value in it.