The Emperor's Dream: Awakening to the True Self in the Mandukya Upanishad

In the ancient wisdom of Advaita Vedanta, stories often serve as powerful gateways to profound truths. One such tale, drawn from Indian lore and retold in countless spiritual discourses, is the dream of Emperor Janaka. This narrative, as shared in a lecture on the Mandukya Upanishad, illustrates the illusory nature of our perceived realities—waking, dreaming, and deep sleep—and points to the unchanging essence beyond them: the Turiya, or the fourth state of consciousness.

At the heart of this teaching lies Mantra 7 of the Mandukya Upanishad, a verse that directly reveals our true self as pure, unattached awareness. In this blog, we'll explore the story, unpack its philosophical depth, and connect it to this transformative verse, offering insights for modern seekers on the path to self-realization.

The Tale of Emperor Janaka's Nightmare

Emperor Janaka, renowned in ancient India as both a mighty ruler and a spiritual philosopher, once experienced a dream that shattered his sense of reality. As the story goes, Janaka falls asleep in his opulent palace. Suddenly, he's jolted awake by guards shouting: "Your Majesty, we've been attacked!"

In a frenzy, Janaka dons his armor, summons his army, and rides into battle. The war is fierce, but fate turns against him. Wounded and defeated, he's captured and dragged before the conquering king. Spared execution due to his royal blood, Janaka is exiled from his empire. He wanders, begging for food and water, but fear of the new tyrant keeps aid at bay. The once-powerful emperor, who commanded vast lands, now can't even quench his thirst in his own realm.

Exhausted, he crosses into a neighboring kingdom and joins a queue at a 'soup kitchen' for the poor. By the time his turn arrives, only scraps remain at the bottom of the cauldron. The distributor, pitying Janaka's noble bearing, scrapes together the remnants and hands him a bowl. With trembling hands, Janaka lifts it to his lips—only for a kite to swoop down, knocking the bowl away. The food spills into the dust.

Overwhelmed, Janaka collapses, crying out in despair: "Alas! Alas!" (In Sanskrit, hā hā kāra, signifying profound sorrow.) But in that moment of utter defeat, he awakens—sitting bolt upright in his palace bed, heart pounding. The guards rush in: "Sire, you shouted. Is something wrong?"

Janaka, no ordinary man but a deep thinker, doesn't dismiss it as "just a nightmare." Instead, he ponders: "Was that true, or is this true?" This question haunts him. He repeats it to his queen, his ministers, even his doctor. Word spreads: The emperor has gone mad!

Enter the sage Ashtavakra, Janaka's guru, who visits the court. Seeing the emperor amid his splendor yet lost in confusion, Ashtavakra asks about his well-being. Janaka responds: "Was that true, or is this true?"

Knowing Janaka's mind, Ashtavakra replies: "O Emperor, when you rolled in the dust of defeat, was this empire, these generals, this queen present?" Janaka admits: "No." "And now, surrounded by glory, is that despair here?" Again: "No."

"Therefore," says the sage, "neither that is true, nor is this true." Shocked, Janaka protests: "Is there no truth at all?" Ashtavakra probes deeper: "In the dream, were you there experiencing it?" "Yes." "And now, are you here?" "Yes."

"Then, neither the dream nor the waking is ultimately true—but you are the truth. You are the unchanging witness."

The Philosophical Insight: Beyond Dream and Waking

This story beautifully mirrors the core teaching of Advaita Vedanta: Our everyday sense of "I" is tied to transient states, but our true self transcends them. In the dream, Janaka suffered as a defeated beggar—yet upon waking, that "self" vanished. In waking life, he reigns as emperor—yet the story questions its ultimate reality too. What remains constant? The experiencer, the pure awareness that witnesses both.

The story emphasizes: We discount dream experiences as unreal upon waking, but what if waking is similarly illusory? Problems plague us in waking (anxieties, losses) and dreams (nightmares), and even deep sleep holds the seeds of future troubles (as they resurface upon waking). Yet, the true self—the witness—is untouched.

This leads to three reasons why the true self remains free:

1. Asanga (Unattached): Like a screen unaffected by the movies projected on it, awareness observes life's comedies and tragedies without sticking to them. People, events, and bodies come and go—yet "you" persist.

2. Prakasha-svarupa (Illuminating Nature): Consciousness is like sunlight, illuminating wine, muddy water, or holy Ganges water without being tainted or purified by them. It shines on good and bad thoughts alike, unchanged.

3. Satyam (Reality) vs. Mithya (Appearance): The three states (waking, dreaming, deep sleep) are appearances (mithya), like a rope mistaken for a snake or mirage water. Appearances can't affect the underlying reality (satyam). The "snake" doesn't poison the rope; mirage water doesn't wet the sand.

The Revelation of Turiya

The story culminates in Mantra 7 of the Mandukya Upanishad, which describes this true self—the Turiya (fourth state):

नान्तःप्रज्ञं न बहिःप्रज्ञं नोभयतःप्रज्ञं न प्रज्ञानघनं न प्रज्ञं नाप्रज्ञम् ।अदृष्टमव्यवहार्यमग्राह्यमलक्षणमचिन्त्यमव्यपदेश्यमेकात्मप्रत्ययसारं प्रपञ्चोपशमं शान्तं शिवमद्वैतं चतुर्थं मन्यन्ते स आत्मा स विज्ञेयः ॥७॥

Nāntaḥprajñaṃ na bahiḥprajñaṃ nobhayataḥprajñaṃ na prajñānaghanaṃ na prajñaṃ | Adṛṣṭamavyavahāryamagrāhyamalakṣaṇamacintyamavyapadeśyamekātmapratyayasāraṃ prapañcopaśamaṃ śāntaṃ śivamadvaitaṃ caturthaṃ manyante sa ātmā sa vijñeyaḥ. (7)

Translation: "It is not inwardly conscious, nor outwardly conscious, nor both; not a mass of consciousness, nor conscious, nor unconscious. It is unseen, beyond empirical dealings, ungraspable, without attributes, unthinkable, indescribable; the essence of the assurance of which is the one self; the cessation of the phenomenal world; tranquil, auspicious, non-dual. That is the Self (Atman), and That is to be realized."

According to the Mandukya, the Self (Ātman) is not merely the experiencer of happiness or sorrow, but the very witness of experience itself. It describes four states of consciousness:

1. Vaiśvānara (Waking State) — where consciousness is outward-turned and identifies with the body and its actions: this is the one clapping.

2. Taijasa (Dreaming State) — where consciousness turns inward and experiences mental images: here happiness is known as an inner feeling or memory.

3. Prājña (Deep Sleep) — where the mind and senses dissolve into causal latency: happiness is felt as blissful rest but without self-awareness.

4. Turīya (The Fourth) — not a state but the ever-present witness underlying all three, unchanging and self-luminous.

This verse negates all attributes tied to the three states:

• Waking: Outward consciousness.

• Dreaming: Inward consciousness.

• Deep sleep: Mass of unconsciousness.

Turiya is the "fourth" only relative to these—it is the non-dual reality (advaita), the cessation of the world (prapañcopaśamaṃ), peaceful (śāntaṃ), and auspicious (śivam). The Upanishad urges: Sa ātmā sa vijñeyaḥ—"That is the Self; That is to be known."

Janaka's story embodies this: His dream "world" ceased upon waking, revealing the witness. Similarly, realizing Turiya dissolves the illusion of suffering in all states.

Image Credit: Reddit/IAI

The Knower of Happiness? — A Child’s Rhyme and the Mandukya Perspective

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

If you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it;

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

At first glance, this is an innocent children’s song — a playful invitation to express joy. But read through the lens of the Mandukya Upanishad, it becomes a profound philosophical riddle.

So, who is it that knows you’re happy?

And who is the one clapping the hands?

Is the knower the same as the doer?

This simple nursery rhyme becomes a profound Vedantic koan when we apply the lens of the Mandukya Upanishad.

• The "you" who feels happy = the waker (gross body-mind in the waking state).

• The "you" who knows it = the witness consciousness (the unchanging observer).

• The "you" who claps = the doer (ego acting through the body).

But in truth, only one “I” exists — the Turiya, the fourth — the silent knower behind all knowing, the witness of both joy and action, untouched by either. This is the heart of the Emperor Janaka story: Neither the dream beggar (suffering) nor the waking king (clapping in glory) is ultimately real — You, the witness, are the truth. The clapping hands come and go. The happiness rises and fades. But the one who knows both — that is your real Self.

“If you’re aware and you know it… just be still.” Because in that stillness, Turiya reveals itself — the Atman, the Brahman, the One without a second.

In the rhyme, the happiness belongs to the mind (a passing state), the clapping belongs to the body (an action in space-time), but the knowing — the awareness that recognises “I am happy” — belongs to none of these. The Mandukya would say that this awareness, Turīya, is what makes both knowing and doing possible yet remains untouched by either.

When a child claps, the act is spontaneous and innocent — there’s no self-conscious separation between knower and doer. But in adulthood, reflection creeps in: “I am happy, I am clapping.” This split marks the birth of the ego, the ahaṃkāra, which identifies the impersonal awareness (Ātman) with a particular body-mind. The moment that happens, the pure knowing gets entangled in doing.

Gaudapada, in his Kārikā (Mandukya 3.29), notes:

Svapne yathā manomātrāḥ gandharvanagaraṃ yathā । Tathā jagaritaṃ jñeyaṃ māyāmātram idaṃ dvayam ॥

The mind creates all objects of duality in dream and waking alike. Knowing this, the wise see both states as mere appearances.

The song’s innocent refrain — “If you’re happy and you know it...” — can thus be read as an invitation to awaken:

• The happiness is fleeting, conditioned.

• The knowing is constant, unconditioned.

• The clapping is an expression within the play of appearances.

From the Mandukya’s standpoint, happiness, sadness, action, and inaction all arise within consciousness, like waves in the ocean. The true “you” is not the clapper, nor the emotion, nor even the thought “I am happy,” but the silent awareness in which these come and go.

Practical Implications: From Intellectual Insight to Liberation

Even intellectually grasping this fosters peace. As the story notes, life's attachments—lovers, possessions, even our bodies—come and go, yet we endure. Shift the "I" from the transient waker/dreamer/sleeper to the eternal witness.

Even a glimpse of this truth — that you are the witness, not the experience — brings peace. To deepen it into lived freedom:

• Listen deeply (Śravanam): Immerse in teachings that point beyond the self — whether the Mandukya Upanishad, the Dhammapada, the Gospel of Thomas, Rumi’s poetry, or a quiet conversation with a wise friend. Let the words dissolve the illusion of separation.

• Reflect honestly (Mananam): Ask:

  “Who feels this joy? Who suffers this pain? Who claps the hands?” Trace every experience back to the silent knower — the same in laughter, tears, and silence.

• Rest in awareness (Nididhyāsanam): Sit still. Watch thoughts, emotions, and sensations arise and pass — like clouds in an endless sky. No need to stop them. Just be the sky.

This path is universal:

• The monk finds it in meditation.

• The mother finds it while rocking her child.

• The scientist finds it in the silence between thoughts.

• The child finds it in wonder.

No tradition owns the truth. Truth owns all traditions.

If you’re aware… and you know it… Just be. That is enough.

In a world of constant change, this realization offers unshakeable freedom (moksha). As the Upanishad implies, problems exist in the three states—but Turiya is bliss itself.

Whether you're navigating daily stresses or seeking deeper truth, Janaka's dream reminds us: Neither "that" (past pains) nor "this" (current joys) defines you. You are the eternal witness—

Tat Tvam Asi (That Thou Art).