A devotee asked, “Can anyone get any benefit by
repeating sacred syllables (mantras) picked up casually?”
Sri Bhagavan replied, “No. He must be competent and
initiated in such mantras.” To illustrate this he told the
following story.
A KING VISITED his minister in his residence. There he was
told that the minister was engaged in repetition of sacred syllables
(japa). The king waited for him and, on meeting him, asked
what the japa was. The minister said that it was the holiest of all,
Gayatri. The king desired to be initiated by the minister but the
minister confessed his inability to initiate him. Therefore the
king learned it from someone else, and meeting the minister
later he repeated the Gayatri and wanted to know if it was right.
The minister said that the mantra was correct, but it was not
proper for him to say it. When pressed for an explanation the
minister called to a page close by and ordered him to take hold
of the king. The order was not obeyed. The order was often
repeated, and still not obeyed. The king flew into a rage and
ordered the same man to hold the minister, and it was
immediately done.
The minister laughed and said that the
incident was the explanation required by the king. “How?” asked
the king. The minister replied, “The order was the same and
the executor also, but the authority was different. When I
ordered, the effect was nil whereas, when you ordered, there
was immediate effect. Similarly with mantras.”
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Peace is the Sole Criterion
When asked about the characteristics of a jnani,
Bhagavan said, “They are described in books, such as the
Bhagavad Gita, but we must bear in mind that the jnani’s
state is one which transcends the mind. It cannot be described
by the mind. Only Silence can correctly describe this state
and its characteristics. Silence is more effective than speech.
From Silence came the ego, from the ego came thought, and
from thought came speech. So if speech is effective, how much
more effective must be its original source!” Then, in this
connection Sri Bhagavan related the following story.
TATTVARAYA COMPOSED A bharani (a kind of poetic composition in Tamil) in honour of his Guru Swarupananda and convened an assembly of learned pandits to hear the work and assess its value. The pandits raised the objection that a bharani was only composed in honour of great heroes capable of killing a thousand elephants, and that it was not in order to compose such a work in honour of an ascetic. Thereupon the author said, “Let us all go to my guru and we shall have this matter settled there.”
They went to the guru and, after all had taken their seats, the author told his guru the purpose of their coming there. The guru sat silent and all the others also remained in mauna. The whole day passed, night came, and some more days and nights, and yet all sat there silently, no thought at all occurring to any of them and nobody asked why they had come there. After three or four days like this, the guru moved his mind a bit, and thereupon the assembly regained their thought activity. They then declared, “Conquering a thousand elephants is nothing compared to the guru’s power to conquer the rutting elephants of all our egos put together. So certainly he deserves the bharani in his honour!”
TATTVARAYA COMPOSED A bharani (a kind of poetic composition in Tamil) in honour of his Guru Swarupananda and convened an assembly of learned pandits to hear the work and assess its value. The pandits raised the objection that a bharani was only composed in honour of great heroes capable of killing a thousand elephants, and that it was not in order to compose such a work in honour of an ascetic. Thereupon the author said, “Let us all go to my guru and we shall have this matter settled there.”
They went to the guru and, after all had taken their seats, the author told his guru the purpose of their coming there. The guru sat silent and all the others also remained in mauna. The whole day passed, night came, and some more days and nights, and yet all sat there silently, no thought at all occurring to any of them and nobody asked why they had come there. After three or four days like this, the guru moved his mind a bit, and thereupon the assembly regained their thought activity. They then declared, “Conquering a thousand elephants is nothing compared to the guru’s power to conquer the rutting elephants of all our egos put together. So certainly he deserves the bharani in his honour!”
The Garlic Plant
While Bhagavan was perusing the monthly journal
Grihalakshmi he began to laugh and handed the journal to
Suri Nagamma as she was leaving the hall, saying, “The
greatness of garlic is described in it. Please read it.” The
article contained recipes for making chutneys and pickles
and in conclusion it stated that there is nothing equal to it
in its greatness and its benefit to the body. When Suri
Nagamma returned to the hall in the afternoon,
Sri Bhagavan inquired if she had read the article and said,
“People say it is very good for health. Really it is so. It cures
rheumatism and gives strength to the body. For children it
acts like amrit (nectar). Garlic is also known as amrit.”
A devotee asked how it got that name. Sri Bhagavan
replied, “There is a curious story about it,” and began telling
the following story.
AS IS WELL known, when gods (devas) and demons (rakshasas) churned the ocean, amrit came out of it. When the rakshasas were running away with the vessel containing amrit, the devas appealed to Vishnu. Vishnu came on to the scene in the shape of Mohini (enchantress), and offered to resolve their quarrel by serving amrit to them all. They agreed. While serving it to the gods first, it appeared that there might not be enough to go round for the demons. One of the latter got into the line of the gods, unobserved by Mohini, and was swallowing the amrit, when the Sun and Moon noticed it and gave her the hint. She threw the ladle, with which the amrit was being served, at the demon in such a way as to cut off his head. The ladle became the Chakra (an invincible lethal weapon of Vishnu) and cut off his head. But as the amrit had already gone down his throat, the head became a graha (planet) and has since been taking vengeance on the Sun and Moon at the time of an eclipse. That is the story. Now, when the head of the demon was severed, the trunk fell down, and in the process, a few drops of amrit fell on the ground. It is said that those drops became the garlic plant. That is why it is said that garlic has some of the properties of amrit. It is very good for the body. But since it also has the touch of the demon, it has tamasic qualities too, which when eaten affect the mind. Hence, it is forbidden for sadhakas.
AS IS WELL known, when gods (devas) and demons (rakshasas) churned the ocean, amrit came out of it. When the rakshasas were running away with the vessel containing amrit, the devas appealed to Vishnu. Vishnu came on to the scene in the shape of Mohini (enchantress), and offered to resolve their quarrel by serving amrit to them all. They agreed. While serving it to the gods first, it appeared that there might not be enough to go round for the demons. One of the latter got into the line of the gods, unobserved by Mohini, and was swallowing the amrit, when the Sun and Moon noticed it and gave her the hint. She threw the ladle, with which the amrit was being served, at the demon in such a way as to cut off his head. The ladle became the Chakra (an invincible lethal weapon of Vishnu) and cut off his head. But as the amrit had already gone down his throat, the head became a graha (planet) and has since been taking vengeance on the Sun and Moon at the time of an eclipse. That is the story. Now, when the head of the demon was severed, the trunk fell down, and in the process, a few drops of amrit fell on the ground. It is said that those drops became the garlic plant. That is why it is said that garlic has some of the properties of amrit. It is very good for the body. But since it also has the touch of the demon, it has tamasic qualities too, which when eaten affect the mind. Hence, it is forbidden for sadhakas.
‘I’ and You
An earnest devotee asked Sri Bhagavan about the
method to realize the Self. As usual, Sri Bhagavan told him
to find out who is the ‘I’ in his question. After a few more
questions in this strain the devotee asked, “Instead of
enquiring ‘Who am I?’, can I put the question to myself
‘Who are you?’ since then, my mind may be fixed on you
whom I consider to be God in the form of Guru.”
Sri Bhagavan replied, “Whatever form your enquiry may take, you must finally come to the one ‘I’, the Self. All these distinctions made between ‘I’ and ‘you’, master and disciple, are merely a sign of one’s ignorance. That ‘I’ Supreme alone is. To think otherwise is to delude oneself.” Thereupon Sri Bhagavan told the following story.
A PURANIC STORY of Sage Ribhu and his disciple Nidagha, is particularly instructive.
Although Ribhu taught his disciple the Supreme Truth of the One Brahman without a second, Nidagha, in spite of his erudition and understanding, did not get sufficient conviction to adopt and follow the path of jnana, but settled down in his native town to lead a life devoted to the observance of ceremonial religion.
But the sage loved his disciple as deeply as the latter venerated his Master. In spite of his age, Ribhu would himself go to his disciple in the town, just to see how far the latter had outgrown his ritualism. At times the sage went in disguise, so that he might observe how Nidagha would act when he did not know that he was being observed by his master.
On one such occasion Ribhu, who had put on the disguise of a rustic, found Nidagha intently watching a royal procession. Unrecognised by the town-dweller Nidagha, the village rustic enquired what the bustle was all about, and was told that the king was going in procession.
“Oh! It is the king. He goes in procession! But where is he?” asked the rustic.
“There, on the elephant,” said Nidagha. “You say the king is on the elephant. Yes, I see the two,” said the rustic, “But which is the king and which is the elephant?”
“What!” exclaimed Nidagha. “You see the two, but do not know that the man above is the king and the animal below is the elephant? What is the use of talking to a man like you?”
“Pray, be not impatient with an ignorant man like me,” begged the rustic. “But you said ‘above’ and ‘below’ – what do they mean?”
Nidagha could stand it no more. “You see the king and the elephant, the one above and the other below. Yet you want to know what is meant by ‘above’ and ‘below’?” burst out Nidagha. “If things seen and words spoken can convey so little to you, action alone can teach you. Bend forward, and you will know it all too well”.
The rustic did as he was told. Nidagha got on his shoulders and said, “Know it now. I am above as the king, you are below as the elephant. Is that clear enough?”
“No, not yet,” was the rustic’s quiet reply. “You say you are above like the king, and I am below like the elephant. The ‘king’, the ‘elephant’, ‘above’ and ‘below’ – so far it is clear. But pray, tell me what you mean by ‘I’ and ‘you’?”
When Nidagha was thus confronted all of a sudden with the mighty problem of defining the ‘you’ apart from the ‘I’, light dawned on his mind. At once he jumped down and fell at his Master’s feet saying, “Who else but my venerable Master, Ribhu, could have thus drawn my mind from the superficialities of physical existence to the true Being of the Self? Oh! Benign Master, I crave thy blessings.”
Sri Bhagavan replied, “Whatever form your enquiry may take, you must finally come to the one ‘I’, the Self. All these distinctions made between ‘I’ and ‘you’, master and disciple, are merely a sign of one’s ignorance. That ‘I’ Supreme alone is. To think otherwise is to delude oneself.” Thereupon Sri Bhagavan told the following story.
A PURANIC STORY of Sage Ribhu and his disciple Nidagha, is particularly instructive.
Although Ribhu taught his disciple the Supreme Truth of the One Brahman without a second, Nidagha, in spite of his erudition and understanding, did not get sufficient conviction to adopt and follow the path of jnana, but settled down in his native town to lead a life devoted to the observance of ceremonial religion.
But the sage loved his disciple as deeply as the latter venerated his Master. In spite of his age, Ribhu would himself go to his disciple in the town, just to see how far the latter had outgrown his ritualism. At times the sage went in disguise, so that he might observe how Nidagha would act when he did not know that he was being observed by his master.
On one such occasion Ribhu, who had put on the disguise of a rustic, found Nidagha intently watching a royal procession. Unrecognised by the town-dweller Nidagha, the village rustic enquired what the bustle was all about, and was told that the king was going in procession.
“Oh! It is the king. He goes in procession! But where is he?” asked the rustic.
“There, on the elephant,” said Nidagha. “You say the king is on the elephant. Yes, I see the two,” said the rustic, “But which is the king and which is the elephant?”
“What!” exclaimed Nidagha. “You see the two, but do not know that the man above is the king and the animal below is the elephant? What is the use of talking to a man like you?”
“Pray, be not impatient with an ignorant man like me,” begged the rustic. “But you said ‘above’ and ‘below’ – what do they mean?”
Nidagha could stand it no more. “You see the king and the elephant, the one above and the other below. Yet you want to know what is meant by ‘above’ and ‘below’?” burst out Nidagha. “If things seen and words spoken can convey so little to you, action alone can teach you. Bend forward, and you will know it all too well”.
The rustic did as he was told. Nidagha got on his shoulders and said, “Know it now. I am above as the king, you are below as the elephant. Is that clear enough?”
“No, not yet,” was the rustic’s quiet reply. “You say you are above like the king, and I am below like the elephant. The ‘king’, the ‘elephant’, ‘above’ and ‘below’ – so far it is clear. But pray, tell me what you mean by ‘I’ and ‘you’?”
When Nidagha was thus confronted all of a sudden with the mighty problem of defining the ‘you’ apart from the ‘I’, light dawned on his mind. At once he jumped down and fell at his Master’s feet saying, “Who else but my venerable Master, Ribhu, could have thus drawn my mind from the superficialities of physical existence to the true Being of the Self? Oh! Benign Master, I crave thy blessings.”
Earnestness or Faith (Sraddha)
A devotee obtained a copy of Sri Bhagavan’s work
Ulladu Narpadu (Forty Verses on Reality) and began to
write out the entire work for himself. Seeing him doing this
writing with earnestness, though with a certain amount of
difficulty and strain, since the devotee was not accustomed
to squatting and doing continuous writing work, Bhagavan
told the story of a sannyasi and his disciples to illustrate
what is called sraddha – earnestness of purpose.
THERE WAS ONCE a guru who had eight disciples. One day he instructed them all to make a copy of his teachings from a note- book he had kept. One of them, who had lived an easy-going life before renouncing the world, could not make a copy for himself. He, therefore paid a couple of rupees to a fellow disciple and requested him to make a copy for him also. The guru examined the copy books one day and, noticing two books in the same handwriting, asked the disciples for an explanation. Both the writer and the one on whose behalf it was written told the truth about it.
The Master commented that, though speaking the truth was an essential quality of a spiritual aspirant, it alone would not carry one to one’s goal, but that sraddha (earnestness of purpose) was also necessary. Since this had not been exhibited by the disciple who had entrusted his own labour to another, he was disqualified from discipleship. Referring to his making payment for the work, the guru sarcastically remarked that “Salvation” costs more than that and he was at liberty to purchase it rather than undergo training under him. So saying he dismissed that disciple.
THERE WAS ONCE a guru who had eight disciples. One day he instructed them all to make a copy of his teachings from a note- book he had kept. One of them, who had lived an easy-going life before renouncing the world, could not make a copy for himself. He, therefore paid a couple of rupees to a fellow disciple and requested him to make a copy for him also. The guru examined the copy books one day and, noticing two books in the same handwriting, asked the disciples for an explanation. Both the writer and the one on whose behalf it was written told the truth about it.
The Master commented that, though speaking the truth was an essential quality of a spiritual aspirant, it alone would not carry one to one’s goal, but that sraddha (earnestness of purpose) was also necessary. Since this had not been exhibited by the disciple who had entrusted his own labour to another, he was disqualified from discipleship. Referring to his making payment for the work, the guru sarcastically remarked that “Salvation” costs more than that and he was at liberty to purchase it rather than undergo training under him. So saying he dismissed that disciple.
In the World but not of the World
KADUVELI SIDDHAR WAS famed as a very austere hermit.
He lived on the dry leaves fallen from trees. The king of the country heard of him and offered a reward to one who would prove this man’s worth. A rich dasi agreed to do it. She began to live near the recluse and pretended to attend on him. She gently left pieces of pappadam along with the dry leaves picked by him. When he had eaten them she began to leave other kinds of tasty food along with the dry leaves. Eventually he took good tasty dishes supplied by her. They became intimate and a child was born to them. She reported the matter to the king.
The king wanted to know if she could prove their mutual relationship to the general public. She agreed and suggested a plan of action. Accordingly the king announced a public dancing performance by the dasi and invited the people to it. The crowd gathered and she also appeared, but not before she had given a dose of physic to the child and left it in charge of the saint at home.
As the dance was at its height, the child was crying at home for its mother. The father took the babe in his arms and went to the dancing performance. As she was dancing hilariously he could not approach her with the child. She noticed the man and the babe, and contrived to kick her legs in the dance, so as to unloose one of her anklets just as she approached the place where the saint was. She gently lifted her foot and he tied the anklet. The public shouted and laughed. But he remained unaffected. Yet to prove his worth, he sang a Tamil song meaning:
“For victory, let go my anger!
I release my mind when it rushes away.
If it is true that I sleep day and night quite aware of my Self,
may this stone burst into twain
and become the wide expanse!”
Immediately the stone (idol) burst with a loud noise. The people were astounded.
Thus he proved himself an unswerving jnani. One should not be deceived by the external appearance of a jnani. Verse 181 of Vedanta Chudamani further explains this. Its meaning is as follows:
Although a jivanmukta associated with the body may, owing to his prarabdha, appear to lapse into ignorance or wisdom, yet he is only pure like the ether (akasa) which is always itself clear, whether covered by dense clouds or without being covered by clouds. He always revels in the Self alone, like a loving wife taking pleasure with her husband alone. Though she attends on him with things obtained from others (by way of fortune, as determined by her prarabdha). Though he remains silent like one devoid of learning, his supineness is due to the implicit duality of the vaikhari vak (spoken words) of the Vedas; his silence is the highest expression of the realised non-duality which is after all the true content of the Vedas. Though he instructs his disciples, he does not pose as a teacher in the full conviction that the teacher and disciple are mere conventions born of illusion (maya), and so he continues to utter words like akasvani.
If, on the other hand, he mutters words incoherently like a lunatic, it is because his experience is inexpressible. If his words are many and fluent like those of an orator, they represent the recollection of his experience, since he is the unmoving non- dual One without any desire awaiting fulfilment. Although he may appear grief-stricken like any other man in bereavement, yet he evinces just the right love of and pity for the senses which he earlier controlled before he realised that they were mere instruments and manifestations of the Supreme Being. When he seems keenly interested in the wonders of the world, he is only ridiculing the ignorance born of superimposition. If he appears wrathful he means well to the offenders. All his actions should be taken to be only divine manifestations on the plane of humanity. There should not arise even the least doubt as to his being emancipated while yet alive. He lives only for the good of the world.
He lived on the dry leaves fallen from trees. The king of the country heard of him and offered a reward to one who would prove this man’s worth. A rich dasi agreed to do it. She began to live near the recluse and pretended to attend on him. She gently left pieces of pappadam along with the dry leaves picked by him. When he had eaten them she began to leave other kinds of tasty food along with the dry leaves. Eventually he took good tasty dishes supplied by her. They became intimate and a child was born to them. She reported the matter to the king.
The king wanted to know if she could prove their mutual relationship to the general public. She agreed and suggested a plan of action. Accordingly the king announced a public dancing performance by the dasi and invited the people to it. The crowd gathered and she also appeared, but not before she had given a dose of physic to the child and left it in charge of the saint at home.
As the dance was at its height, the child was crying at home for its mother. The father took the babe in his arms and went to the dancing performance. As she was dancing hilariously he could not approach her with the child. She noticed the man and the babe, and contrived to kick her legs in the dance, so as to unloose one of her anklets just as she approached the place where the saint was. She gently lifted her foot and he tied the anklet. The public shouted and laughed. But he remained unaffected. Yet to prove his worth, he sang a Tamil song meaning:
“For victory, let go my anger!
I release my mind when it rushes away.
If it is true that I sleep day and night quite aware of my Self,
may this stone burst into twain
and become the wide expanse!”
Immediately the stone (idol) burst with a loud noise. The people were astounded.
Thus he proved himself an unswerving jnani. One should not be deceived by the external appearance of a jnani. Verse 181 of Vedanta Chudamani further explains this. Its meaning is as follows:
Although a jivanmukta associated with the body may, owing to his prarabdha, appear to lapse into ignorance or wisdom, yet he is only pure like the ether (akasa) which is always itself clear, whether covered by dense clouds or without being covered by clouds. He always revels in the Self alone, like a loving wife taking pleasure with her husband alone. Though she attends on him with things obtained from others (by way of fortune, as determined by her prarabdha). Though he remains silent like one devoid of learning, his supineness is due to the implicit duality of the vaikhari vak (spoken words) of the Vedas; his silence is the highest expression of the realised non-duality which is after all the true content of the Vedas. Though he instructs his disciples, he does not pose as a teacher in the full conviction that the teacher and disciple are mere conventions born of illusion (maya), and so he continues to utter words like akasvani.
If, on the other hand, he mutters words incoherently like a lunatic, it is because his experience is inexpressible. If his words are many and fluent like those of an orator, they represent the recollection of his experience, since he is the unmoving non- dual One without any desire awaiting fulfilment. Although he may appear grief-stricken like any other man in bereavement, yet he evinces just the right love of and pity for the senses which he earlier controlled before he realised that they were mere instruments and manifestations of the Supreme Being. When he seems keenly interested in the wonders of the world, he is only ridiculing the ignorance born of superimposition. If he appears wrathful he means well to the offenders. All his actions should be taken to be only divine manifestations on the plane of humanity. There should not arise even the least doubt as to his being emancipated while yet alive. He lives only for the good of the world.
Total Abidance
A devotee asked, “How does the repetition of the name
of God help Realisation?”
Sri Bhagavan replied, “The original name is always going on spontaneously without any effort on the part of the individual. That name is aham – ‘I’. But when it becomes manifest it manifests as ahamkara – the ego. The oral repetition of the name leads one to mental repetition which finally resolves itself into the eternal vibration. The mind or the mouth cannot act without the Self.” Thereupon Sri Bhagavan told the following story.
TUKARAM, THE GREAT Maharashtra Saint, used to remain in samadhi in the day and sing and dance at night with large crowds of people. He always used to utter the name of Sri Rama. Once he was answering the call of nature and also saying “Ram, Ram”. An orthodox priest was shocked at the uttering of the holy name by the saint when his body was not clean. Hence he reprimanded him and ordered him to be silent. Tukaram said, “All right!” and remained mute. But at once there arose the name of Rama from every pore of Tukaram and the priest was horrified by the din. He then prayed to Tukaram, “Restrictions are only for the common people and not for saints like you.”
Sri Bhagavan replied, “The original name is always going on spontaneously without any effort on the part of the individual. That name is aham – ‘I’. But when it becomes manifest it manifests as ahamkara – the ego. The oral repetition of the name leads one to mental repetition which finally resolves itself into the eternal vibration. The mind or the mouth cannot act without the Self.” Thereupon Sri Bhagavan told the following story.
TUKARAM, THE GREAT Maharashtra Saint, used to remain in samadhi in the day and sing and dance at night with large crowds of people. He always used to utter the name of Sri Rama. Once he was answering the call of nature and also saying “Ram, Ram”. An orthodox priest was shocked at the uttering of the holy name by the saint when his body was not clean. Hence he reprimanded him and ordered him to be silent. Tukaram said, “All right!” and remained mute. But at once there arose the name of Rama from every pore of Tukaram and the priest was horrified by the din. He then prayed to Tukaram, “Restrictions are only for the common people and not for saints like you.”
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