Shravan Kumar and the Kanwar

Shravan Kumar's mother and father were both blind. In old age they had one wish left — to visit the holy places. They had no money, no chariot and no servants.

So Shravan made a kanwar, a pole of bamboo with a basket hanging at each end. He seated his mother in one, his father in the other, lifted the pole onto his shoulders, and set out on foot.

He walked for years — shrine to shrine, town to forest. On slopes he walked slowly so the baskets would not sway. Wherever he found shade he set his parents down first and sat afterwards. When someone asked how he carried such a weight, he said, "It would be a weight only if it belonged to somebody else."

One night in the Dandaka forest his parents grew thirsty. Shravan took a pot to the bank of the Sarayu and dipped it into the water.

King Dasharatha was hunting in that same forest. He had trained in shabdabhedi — shooting at a sound alone. Hearing the gurgle of a filling pot, he took it for an elephant drinking, and loosed his arrow.

The arrow struck Shravan. Dasharatha ran to the spot and found no animal there — only a young ascetic lying in the reeds.

Shravan said, in a failing voice, "Do not grieve for me. But under that tree my mother and father are waiting, thirsty, and they cannot see. Take them this water first."

Dasharatha carried the pot to them. Not recognising the footsteps, the old father asked, "Who is there? Where is Shravan?" The king told them the truth.

In his grief the old man said: "As I die today from the loss of a son, so one day will you die from the loss of a son."

That curse came true years later, when Rama left for the forest and Dasharatha died in Ayodhya calling his name.

Moral: Shravan turned service into a journey rather than a burden. And the story says one more thing — an arrow loosed without looking will follow you for generations.