Swami Brahm Bodhi

“Should We Become Rishis — or Yogis and Saints?”

You have raised a most profound question.

There is a saying — “Old is gold.”
That is, what is ancient is precious like gold.
Yet this saying is not always true.

The sages you have mentioned were indeed great — but they were not the only ones.
Many others, too, were exalted seers and spiritual masters of the highest order.
They had attained extraordinary control over their minds and senses.
However, the scriptures do not affirm that their control was perfect.
This raises a deeper question — what truly is control?

Control means restraining the impulses of the senses and holding back the wanderings of the mind.
It is undoubtedly a great achievement — yet it is not the ultimate spiritual perfection.
To restrain the mind and senses is an achievement of negation — a negative attainment that says, “This I shall not do, that I shall not do.”
But life also demands something more — a positive realization.

To say, “I will not be angry,” is admirable — but not sufficient.
The absence of anger is only a negation; the presence of compassion is an affirmation.
Between “I will not be angry” and “I will be compassionate” lies the long journey from denial to affirmation.
This distinction is subtle but vital.

The word Rishi was used primarily in the Vedic age.
Those whom you have mentioned were great ascetics of that era.
In modern times, even Swami Dayananda was called a Maharshi because he upheld the Vedas and believed in the Vedic way of life.
But after the Vedic period, those who embodied spiritual greatness were not called Rishis; they were revered as Yogis, Saints, Mahatmas, and Paramahansas.

The Vedic Rishis were generally severe ascetics.
They performed fire sacrifices, undertook prolonged fasts, and engaged in self-mortifying austerities.
As a result of their penances, many developed superhuman powers.
Yet it would be wrong to assume that all of them were the highest among the great souls.
Many were known to have lost their temper and cursed others — sometimes even one another, and at times, astonishingly, even the Lord Himself.

For instance, through his intense penance, Maharshi Dadhichi’s bones became as hard as thunderbolts, and for the protection of the gods he sacrificed his life.
Yet he too was known for his fierce temperament — he once cursed even Lord Vishnu.
Rishi Shringi pronounced a death-curse upon King Parikshit, a righteous monarch, for a mere trivial mistake.
And Rishi Durvasa — his name itself became a byword for wrath — cursed countless beings.

An episode from Dwarka shows how pride can overshadow wisdom.
Once, Rishi Durvasa ordered Lord Krishna and Rukmini to pull his chariot like horses.
And behold the humility of the Lord — He said gently to Rukmini, “Come, let us draw his chariot ourselves.”
They did so without hesitation — revealing that true saintliness lies not in power, but in humility.

The story of Vashishtha and Vishwamitra is also telling —
both cursed each other and became birds.
Maharshi Bhrigu, when testing the Trinity, went so far as to strike Lord Vishnu on the chest with his foot.
The Lord, however, responded only with compassion.

Even Devarshi Narada, when his desire was unfulfilled, cursed Vishnu.
The four sons of Brahma — the Sanaka sages — cursed the gatekeepers of Vaikuntha, Jaya and Vijaya, merely because they said politely,
“The Lord is resting; please wait until He grants permission.”
In truth, Jaya and Vijaya had committed no offense; they were only performing their duty.
Yet, blinded by pride and anger, the sages cursed them — and thus they were born on earth as Ravana, Hiranyakashipu, and Kamsa.

Such episodes from the scriptures reveal a deep yet complex image of the Vedic Rishis.
They possessed immense knowledge, penance, and spiritual power — but often lacked compassion, forgiveness, and the purification of ego that only devotion brings.
Their minds had not yet been bathed in the nectar of Bhakti.

Only with the awakening of Bhakti does the human ego melt away.
Devotion transforms a Rishi into a Saint.
A Rishi is the symbol of knowledge;
a Saint, of love.
Knowledge without love becomes arid;
love without knowledge becomes directionless.
When devotion illumines knowledge, true saintliness arises.

The Rishis became powerful through austerity;
the Saints became divine through love.
The Rishis gave curses in anger;
the Saints gave blessings in compassion.
The Rishis performed outer sacrifices;
the Saints made the heart itself their altar.

Of course, not all Rishis were alike —
some were deeply forgiving, gentle, and pure-hearted.
But by and large, history shows that anger and pride often shadowed their greatness.

Therefore, while we may draw inspiration from the Rishis,
it is wiser to make the Saints, the Mahatmas, and the Paramahansas our ideals —
for they attained perfection not through penance, but through love.

Ultimately, it is best that we take the Bhagavad Gita as our highest guide —
for the Gita does not produce Rishis; it produces Yogis, Saints, and Mahatmas.
In its twelfth chapter (verses 13–20)
and in the sixteenth chapter (verses 1–3),
it describes the making of such realized souls —
those whose hearts are free from anger and pride,
and filled only with equanimity, devotion, and peace.