As dawn’s
first light sends reflections along the river every morning, the Brahman makes his way to its waters to perform his daily ablutions and recitations,
including the Gayatri Mantra. This mantra is an invocation
to Savitri, the intelligence that enlivens the sun. The petitioner requests
that this powerful intelligence guide him throughout the day.
Let us meditate
on the most excellent
Light of Savitri
May he guide
our intellect.
Throughout Bharata’s long history, all Brahmans have recited
this short verse from the Rg Veda at the three principal times of the
day: sunrise, noon, sunset. Seemingly, the tradition is rarely practiced
in today’s world, for the Brahmans are occupied reciting stock
indexes on Wall Street and in Bombay stock exchange. However, in the awsome
stretches of rural south India, the tradition remains viable. Shiva RamaKrishna
and his flower-covered hut
One afternoon, I go over for another long discussion with Shiva RamaKrishna.
He is such an endless fountain of knowledge that I only go to his cottage
every other day, or I would pass the whole day listening to and questioning
him. He has translated the Ramayana by Tulasi Das into Tamil and
has had it published through a trust to sell at the low price of 25 Rps.
[$.80] for nine hundred pages. He has also translated it into English,
but has been waiting for someone to check the English and give an opinion
if it is worth publishing. I sit out on the garden bench to read it aloud, so I can appreciate
the meter of the poetry. In a short time, the Sadhu appears, so I mention
that I have just read the words of Laksmana. Eventually, I get Shiva RamaKrishna to talk about himself more. He was
a young boy during the India’s independence movement. Often we discuss some aspect of English literature. Although he had
studied only a few American authors, RamaKrishna did read and appreciate
Emerson. Far or forgot to me
is near; They reckon ill who
leave me out; The strong gods pine
for my abode, “That last line shows he truly understood that heaven is not a
permanent abode. Pretty good for a Christian of his era,” I observe. Siva RamaKrishna has visited the site of the controversial temple site
at the birthplace of Rama. The Moslems destroyed the original Hindu temple,
as they had done across India for centuries. “Loot, then destroy,
the temples of the idolaters” was their war cry. All the Indian news
sources state that a Moslem mosque has been built on the site over the
ruins of the original temple. Although it is hallowed ground to the Hindus,
the Moslems will not release it back to them. But Siva Ramakrishna tells
me another version. The roof of the verandah of the Brahman’s small hut is covered
with an incredible vine that bears the loveliest lavender flowers, shaped
like small trumpets with a scalloped edge. I am not the only one who enjoys
them. Every time I come here I am able to see at least one extraordinary
butterfly. All the common butterflies continually flutter through the
garden here . The large black, white and fluorescent red one is always
gliding about. They are so common here that I have come accustomed to
its radiant presence, so I am no longer overwhelmed when I see one. A
smaller white variety, veined with black is also plentiful. It appears
rather plain until it folds its wings up and shows the orange and yellow
underneath. Then one day a huge moth with mirrored wings shows up. I wonder
if they were the inspiration for the mirror work on vests and bags made
by the women in Rajasthan and Orissa. A couple of the school boys ran
to get me to show it to me. I do not know how they knew I was a butterfly
lover. While I am spending my usual hour in the morning sun reading, Ram Sadhu
approaches me. “Now I want you to review that section of the Ramayana
that we are going to read in class today. Tulasi Dasa recounts the best
place for Rama to dwell. No one has ever written such a beautiful account
of the residence suitable for Rama. Call it imagination or speculation,
it doesn’t matter. This section uplifts the aspiration of the sadhak
[seeker]. That’s all that matters.”
Every morning and every evening, I have the pleasure of watching Shiva
RamaKrishna make his way to the river with a big brass pot on his head,
then hearing him recite his prayers. Afterwards, he returns with the pot,
filled with holy water from the Kauveri River, back to his hut. Watching
this trip back through the centuries gives me a very soothing and secure
feeling, I feel grateful that some things never change.
The essential purpose of the Vedas is to insure the well-being of all
aspects of the creation. While in a high intuitive state, the ancient
rshis became aware of the subtle cosmic vibrations that had become
denser, then intermingled into patterns, which we perceive with our sense
organs as the various forms and objects of the material world.
Thus the Vedic mantras (verses) were intuited in a timeless state
to be used in the realm of time. The actual chanting of the mantras
is an important aspect of the protective and creative power of Vedas.
The chanting assures the alignment of the physical world with the original
creative vibrations, whereby humankind can live in harmony with his subtle
origins. Therefore, a group of people, that is, the ones of subtle mind,
began to chant the mantras and to perform the Vedic rites for the
welfare of humanity.
Since the purpose of chanting the mantras is to create a harmony
between the original sounds of creation and the invoker of the mantra,
the correct innovation of words is necessary for the mantras to
retain and manifest their innate power. This is the reason that the sages
warn that a modification in the chanting of a Vedic mantra will
produce no effect.
This same phenomenon exists even in our everyday world. When I, with my
American accent, asked for the bus to Basavanagudi at the Bangalore bus
station, all I got was "No English,” from the official sitting
at the information table. I think I am pronouncing an Indian word, but
he thinks I am speaking English. It is only when a kind person, standing
to the side, speaks up and repeats the word, Basavanagudi—just
exactly like I thought I said it—that the face of the official lights
up in recognition. Then he enthusiastically directs me to the correct
bus.
The Gayatri is considered the most important of the Vedic mantras,
as it is a prayer, an invocation and a creative power, all in one. This
Mantra specifically requests: "May my actions be in harmony
with the highest intelligence,” that is, the highest good. Its repetition
the first thing in the morning tunes the mental attitude for the day to
the station that brings forth one’s best qualities. So our actions,
which are often merely mechanical impulses from past experiences, begin
to have some moments of conscious content.
A deity is associated with each mantra. The deity provides a symbol
with which the mind collects positive ideas and inspirations. The Gayatri
Mantra is addressed to Savitri. Savitri’s name is from the Sanskrit
root Su = to excite or stimulate; therefore, his name can be translated
as: The stimulator of everything. He is not the physical sun, but a power
because of which there is a sun. The Gayatri Mantra is concerned
with humanity and the universe, plus the Unknown that sustains them.
He relates to me that when he first saw me he was so happy; he felt that
Rama himself surely had sent me here. This was news to me, as I had feared
that the resident sadhus might consider a "foreign lady”
an intrusion.
"Oh, no,” he exclaimed, then explained that every letter that
Gandhi wrote in English was first checked by Mirabhen, his English secretary,
before it was released. I told him that I was helping with the editing
of a spiritual magazine, so there was no reason I could not help him also.
"I don’t want to put any burden on your head.”
"No, I want to read the Ramayana anyway. Also, I have a knack
for editing, so it will be no burden. That is, if there is no pressure
of a deadline.”
"Oh, no. It’s been sitting in Madras for three years now, waiting
for someone like you to come along.”
Siva RamaKrishna had been a professor of English literature in a small
university. His father had died when he was a teenager; therefore, for
many years he was the sole support of his mother. I never asked, but assumed,
this was the reason that he never married. A son who is responsible for
the support of a widowed mother has a mark against him on the eligibility
list for marriage. When she died and the necessary rituals were completed,
Siva RamaKrishna resigned his job, gave up his home, and started living
the life of a sadhu. He had lived in various ashrams until he discovered
Ram Sadhu about ten years ago.
Since then, he has spent most of his time here in a small hut beside the
master’s. In addition, his interest in the Ramayana has taken
him to Ayodhya, the birthplace of Rama. While in that region, he became
acquainted with the Mahant there. Unlike the Shankara Mathas
whose heads are picked for scholarly and spiritual achievement, the position
of the Mahant in the North is simply purchased; we will assume
by one who has spiritual aspirations. Evidently the current Mahant
was not particularly schooled in the scriptures because he was quite
pleased to find a scholarly assistant like Siva RamaKrishna. He wanted
the Brahman to remain in the North all year, but the Brahman protested
that a south Indian cannot endure the winters of the North.
One day he tells me, "You know when I came here some ten years back,
it was Ram Sadhu who came to me one day and placed a Tulasi Ramayana
in my hand with the words.‘This is to be your life work from this
day,’ he told me. Since that day I have been totally immersed and
completely satisfied with its study. So you see how insightful these great
ones like Ram Sadhu are.”
The Ramayana is the history of an Incarnation—God born as
man without any veil: his birth as the Prince Rama, his marriage, the
loss of his kingdom, his separation from his wife, and the subsequent
battle with the demons of the world to reunite with her. Filled with wisdom
on the morals and ethics faced in the drama of human life, it is also
interspersed with expositions of the highest eternal truth: We are Divine.
In addition to Rama’s and Sita’s history, it is filled with
the traditional stories of the Indian sages and kings. More than any other
literary work, it represents the heartbeat of Bharatha. All castes and
creeds, particularly in the North memorize this Tulasi version, rendered
in poetry. Last year when the Ramayana was playing on national
television, trains did not move until the one hour episode was over. Yes,
train stations in the large towns have television screens dangling from
the platform ceilings, but not in the waiting rooms.
One afternoon, Shiva RamaKrishna covers a portion of the Ramayana
that includes material that Ram Sadhu acclaims is wonderful. He often
interrupts the Brahman’s commentary with comments, praising some
thought, or even singing the verses, but he is more exuberant than usual
today. His expressed joy is infectious. It makes one wonder how the world
must look through his eyes.
Often I muse during my travels what it would be like to have a Hindu mindset.
If I were to tell Ram Sadhu that I was born a sinner, doomed to hell,
he would topple over in disbelief. I try to imagine what it would have
been like to be raised with the conditioning, "I am a child of light.”
The Vedas state that only an inherent illusion keeps me from seeing this
Truth. Due to this Ignorance, we become involved in the world and accumulate
mala, or dirt, that covers our divinity, just as soot collected
on a kerosene lamp glass obscures the light of the flame. So we have a
simple task in life: remove the dirt, or simply realize the illusion,
or impermanence, of the dirt. Even on a cloudy day, the sun is shining.
After class I ask Shiva Ramakrishna to show me in my English translation
the particular passage that Ram Sadhu was revering today. I just love
this edition of the Ramayana. It’s a beautiful rendition translated
by a British missionary, Dr. Atkins. Obviously inspired while accomplishing
the arduous task, he actually used a poetic format in the meter of the
original Tulasi Dasa version in Prakrit language. Just reading the words
in English inspires an open, expanded consciousness. It’s obvious
that the work was a labor of love for Dr. Atkins.
He tells me the passage he covered today is from a conversation of Laksmana,
Rama’s brother, with Guha, the ferryman who will take Laksmana across
the river to meet his brother. Please note there is no copyright for this
translation, in spite of the Western capitalist influence, most spiritual
works are still not copyrighted in India. Thank god, these precious veins
of the uniqueness of the Bharathis, "the children of light,”
still exist. Everything has not yet been swept away by "western civilization.”But
for how long?
The passage that Ram Sadhu was so excited about is so short that I want
to reproduce Laksmana’s words for you here:
No man can give sorrow
or joy to another,
It’s always the fruit
of one’s own actions, brother,
Uniting, dividing, foul
pleasers or fair,
Evil, good, or indiff’rence—‘tis
delusions snare;
Of life and of death the
world’s course is the reason,
Of all gain and loss,
of each fruit in its season;
One’s city and fam’ly,
land, riches and home,
Even life and death too,
in the world’s course must come,
But listen and note and
take heed in your soul—
All these things are unreal,
bring us not to our goal.
Just as in their dreaming,
kings may become beggars,
And beggars may well become
gods,
But waking find no gain
or loss, so to us
Is this delusive
life with its odds.
So consider this well,
and with anger have done;
For these troubles put
uselessly blame upon none,
Here we are all asleep
and we see many dreams,
But because of illusion,
real ev’ry one seems;
In this night-like world
those devoted ones waken
Who, seeking the real,
have all false things forsaken.
Know this—Only then
the soul wakens to morn,
When it turns from all
sensual pleasures with scorn
When the soul wakens falsehood
and error must flee;
Then to Rama’s
blest feet one devoted can be;
In thought, word and deed
to his feet when devoted;
The chief good of life
is then ours, be it noted;
For Rama is Brahma[n],
of all good the essence,
Eternal, unseen, filling
all with his presence,
Unequaled, above all division
and change;
Scriptures show Him to
be far beyond our mind’s range.
For the sake of the faithful,
mankind, Brahmans, cows
And gods also, he’s
come in his kindness;
He’s taken man’s
form and assumed human ways;
Hearing this, men are
freed from their blindness.
Understand this friend;
leave behind dreams and deceit;
Be devoted to Sita’s
and Raghubir’s [Rama’s] feet.
"Those words are so esteemed that they have been named the Laksmana
Gita [song].”
"Oh! He expresses so beautifully that Rama is the presence in all.
So Rama is what you have been calling the Life.”
“The same. Rama is that very force, but he took an Incarnation, so
that man may know about the Life. But don’t think you’ll figure
it out; it’s beyond the intellect.”
“You mentioned Gandhi. Did you know him personally?”
“No, I never met him. You see our leader here in the south was Rajagopalachari.
Father wanted to join the satyagraha movement, but Rajaji told
him true satyagraha was living the principles in one’s own
home. We spun cotton for our own clothes, planted our vegetables, and
lived as if we were in an ashram right in our own home.
“Rajaji was a great man; he does not get the credit he deserves.
He did have his own ashram in Tiruchengode here in Tamil Nadu.”
“I know there was quite an outcry from the Tamilians when he was
not included in the film, Gandhi,” I mention.
“Well, I know all these Indians with their difficult names are hard
to keep up with, so it was probably a justifiable omission. Did you see
the film?”
“Yes, it was quite good. Except for one point, which unfortunately
occurred right at the beginning of the movie. When Gandhi was assassinated,
he uttered two words, ‘He Ram.’ To a Hindu it is considered
most auspicious to invoke the name of the Lord at the moment of death.
However, when they translated it into English for the movie, they had
him say, ‘Oh, God’ which sounded more like ‘Oh, no,’
so it distorted the meaning entirely.”
“That is most unfortunate. ‘Oh, God’ would not convey the
true meaning at all,” he agreed.
I reply, “To me that one utterance, more than anything, proves his
sainthood. Otherwise, it is rather hard for me to believe that he was
a saint. To one who knows anything about his personal life, he is very
controversial. How could the proponent of non-violence have been so dogmatic
to his own children? Then there was his habit of living in luxurious homes
of Indian millionaires, who clearly made their fortunes by exploition
the poor. And his sexual hang-ups were just too blatant.”
“You must mean Gandhi’s experiments with sleeping with his niece?
Not even the Indians approved. Patel told him he had to stop it, but Gandhi
was a very stubborn man. In the end, Patel had to tell the niece to stop
the experiment because it was harming Gandhi’s image. She obeyed
Patel.”
“It seems to me that he even projected his sexual hang-ups on his
own sons. After pumping out four children himself, he expected his sons
to remain celibate. It’s inhuman that a father won’t let your
own children make their own decisions on such essential matters as marriage
and parenting. In fact, it is against the four ashramas of Hinduism,”
I observe.
“You are right. He did not get the idea from the rshis. But
neither is the idea of asceticism, accompanied with celibacy, foreign
to our tradition. Certainly, he must have been influenced by guilt about
his early sexual activity.”
“He was justified in resenting that his father forced him to marry
at age thirteen. But his insatiable appetite at that age can hardly be
blamed on his father. Anyway, why take it out on his sons?”
On second thought, I continue, “Of course, I know that he was not
the only Indian revolutionary who was a tyrant over his family. Jinnah,
the leader of the Muslim contingent of India, would not let his daughter
marry a non-Muslim, although her mother was a Parsi. [Jinnah married back
in the days when religion did not count so much.] Nehru’s father,
Motilal Nehru annulled his daughter’s marriage to a Muslim.”
Since the Brahman remains silent, I interrupt the silence, “This
authoritarian side of Gandhi is not brought out in his profiles. I’m
surprised that Patel had the nerve to defy him.”
“Oh, yes. Patel was a powerful man with his own ideas; that’s
why Gandhi favored Nehru. He thought Nehru would be more obedient to his
ideas. But Gandhi never chose Nehru as his successor.”
“So Gandhi had not designated Nehru to be the leader of Congress,
therefore, the first Prime Minister of India?”
“No, definitely not. Did you know that Gandhi asked Nehru to allow
Jinnah to be the first Prime Minister? He thought that was a solution
to the Muslim problem. But Nehru was ambitious; he flatly refused.”
“I had forgotten that detail, but I think it was mentioned in the
movie. That one act could have saved India so much grief. And since Jinnah
had tuberculosis, he would have been dead and out of the picture in less
than a year. I can’t believe India’s fate.
“You know Jinnah has always been a puzzle to me. I’ve seen photos
of him around 1947 and anyone could have discerned that he was a very
sick man; the symptoms of TB must have been well known in those days.
The British authorities were stepping aside to allow him to incite a revolution
and commandeer a part of India. I have to wonder if they actually knew
he had a short time left on the planet. If so, what were their real motives?”
“There are many things that are just now coming out. Just the week
before he was assassinated, Gandhi had dictated a letter to his secretary,
telling the Congress National League to disband. It had been formed to
gain independence for India, and that had been accomplished. He emphasized
that it was not a political party. Different parties should be formed
according to different ideologies to stimulate debate and reform on the
central government level. But he died before that letter was actually
signed and delivered. And the letter was suppressed for all these years.”
“I’m afraid it’s obvious who benefited from that. Nehru
was able to run a one man show as head of the one viable political party—Congress.
One biographer said he didn’t trust any authority to anyone. . .
But I’m really surprised the letter had not been destroyed,”
I remark.
“It was kept in some file, somewhere, and it was recently dug out.
A lot of things about the Nehru family are coming out now also.”
“Do you think there’s anything to that persistent rumor that
Nehru was half-brother to the prince of Kashmir, and that was the real
reason he would not let the Kashmiris vote as they had been promised?
He was protecting his own family—and we know family ties in India
can be very strong.”
The Brahman simply shrugs, then changes the subject. “Ram Sadhu’s
family lived in the part of Punjab that went to Pakistan.”
“Oh, dear. There are so many horrible stories of the losses of property—and
even lives—of the Hindus there.”
“Oh, yes. It was a serious situation. Even Ram Sadhu went back to
his former home to help his family move to the Indian section and to get
situated in a new home here.”
“Oh, it was great that he was able to do that. Of course, he is a
man unto himself. It’s not like he has to obey any rules of some
monastic order or religion.”
Further, RamaKrishna informs me that the Sadhu’s wife has come here
to Kumbakonam several times in the past ten years since Ram Sadhu has
lived in the ashram. She likes to spend a month or so here in the holy
atmosphere. She was seven years younger than he, so she must be ninety
now.
“Actually Emerson was one of my favorite authors. Since I taught
English literature, I was always happy to find insightful writing in English.
I especially liked his poem Brahma, although he missed on the translation
of the title. It should have been Brahman, the neuter form of brh,
the Impersonal; not Brahma, the masculine form, which is the creator
deity.”
He turns and rummages through some papers, and pulls out a typewritten
page. Then he reads the words,
If the red slayer think
he slays,
Or if the slain think
he is slain,
They know not well the
subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and
turn again.
Shadow and sunlight are
the same;
The vanished gods to me
appear;
And one to me are shame
and fame.
When me they fly, I am
the wings;
I am the doubter and the
doubt,
And I the hymn The
Brahman sings.
And pine in vain the sacred
Seven;
But thou, meek lover of
the good!
Find me, and turn thy
back on heaven.
“Yes, it is wonderful how some intellectuals of both America and
Britain seriously studied the Hindu thought.”
“Emerson must have been a contemporary of Thomas MacCauley, who wrote
the most scathing criticism of Indian literature. So I’m glad both
sides were represented.”
“I have seen it with my own eyes, Nancy. I assure you there is no
mosque there, and never has been. There is a monument to a war hero, but
not a place of worship.”
“That’s strange. Why perpetuate this debate then?” I question.
“I tell you, there is something else going on. They have even moved
in Mosl ems to live in that area to keep the dissension alive. And then
there was that incident with the massacre of all those sadhus.”
“Massacre of sadhus? I don’t know anything about that,”
I exclaim.
“Yes. I understand the BBC carried the story, but it was totally
suppressed in the Indian news. Hundreds of sadhus were advancing
in mass to reclaim the Hindu sacred site from the Muslims. The Indian
army troops arrived while they were still en route. The troops fired into
the mob, killing hundreds of them. Then they loaded the bodies into lorries
and carried them away. No one ever heard another word about it.”
“That is really strange,” I lament.
“But the details will have to come out. There is actual video footage
of some of the massacre. It will be released when it is appropriate,”
he adds.
“So this is more than a religious feud. I cannot comprehend what
the Government has to gain by keeping this heated battle going,”
I am quite perplexed.
“These things will all come out sooner or later.”
The next time I go to his hut to talk with him, I tell Shiva RamaKrishna,
“I have really been thinking about Gandhi’s situation. When
I was only about fifteen I read a book that really impressed me, The
Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. I have often said that
it was the only true wisdom I heard or read until I was at least twenty-five.
Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I know you were a professor of English literature, not American.
Anyway, the premise of the book was that the moment of death is predetermined—and
logical.”
I go on to explain, “One bright day in the jungles of South America,
a bridge collapsed, plummeting some one dozen people to their deaths.
The author painstakingly traced the life of each one of these people to
demonstrate that, at that precise moment, it was a perfect time for their
life to end. But it’s been so long since I read it that I can’t
even recount one single example.
“So if you use that same hypothesis for Gandhi’s life, or simply
karma, as you Hindus would put it, it does seem that Gandhi had
done all he could. History was just moving in another direction; he was
no longer needed. Maybe he even knew that his appeal to form parties would
be ignored. Certainly, his economic and political policies were being
ignored.”
Siva RamaKrishna agrees, “Yes, he died exactly a year after our Independence,
so by that time it was evident that Nehru was going his own way. Even
at the moment of Independence, Nehru defied Hindu custom. The British
always handed over the reins to the new government at midnight. Everyone
warned Nehru: This is not an auspicious time for the birth of a nation.
But Nehru just would not listen. In many ways, he was more British than
the historians comprehend. He himself was a Brahman and should
have understood these things.”
“But he really knew little about the essence of Hinduism.”
“No, he didn’t know. He was a secular man. Gandhi saw all these
things. Even Gandhi himself admitted that he was a failure.”
“I didn’t know that. Gandhi himself said he was a failure?”
“Oh, yes. At Independence, India erupted into a terrible civil war.
He had no illusions about the failure of the Indians to rise to his ideals.”
“I guess we all assumed that had it not been for him there would
have been more violence.”
“That is certainly true in limited instances because of the pressure
of his fasting to end the killing. No one can fathom the number of Indians
dead. There is no official account, but, I tell you, it was very disheartening—for
all of us, and especially for Gandhi.”
“The real enemy walked out unscathed, and the Indians killed each
other. We Westerners called it a great success. So really Gandhi’s
non-violence just saved the British. I hope that is not why we have embraced
it so.”
I took my book to Siva RamaKrishna so he could point out the section to
me. Just as we start discussing the pointers to indicate the best place
for Rama to dwell, Ram Sadhu sticks his head in the door, “Is my
daughter here?”
The Brahman jumps up to greet Ram Sadhu with a respectful salutation.
The Sadhu places in his hands a couple of bananas and a nimbu for
New Years.
Then he tells the Brahman: “I want her to understand the condition
of that perfect temple where Rama dwells.” He then turns his head
to me and gives me a long meaningful look, “It is within.”
“Yes, Swamiji, I suspected that.”
As the Sadhu ducks out of the low door, Siva RamaKrishna sets the fruit
aside, commenting, “He’s always doing this kind of small thoughtful
deed to all of us. He is always concerned for everyone else’s welfare.”
“Yes, he is a veritable ocean of sweetness. I know ‘kindness’
is the usual word, but whenever I think of him, ‘sweet’ is always
the word that comes to my mind first.”
“Yes, you are right; he is an ocean of sweetness.”
“I feel so grateful to be here. My punya [merit from good
deeds] must be considerable for me to be able to spend this special time
on earth instead of waiting for heaven!”