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Swami Suddhananda |
Then a completely new chapter in life began, where
I suddenly found that being truthful cost nothing. I was no more
interested in pleasing people as I found I had nothing to gain from
their world. It was easy to be truthful and honest to myself. If I
did not feel like smiling, I did not smile. I did not have to tell
people whom I no longer loved, that I loved them. It did not mean
that I went around hurting people with an insensitive honesty but I
was relieved that even if I did not tell the truth, I did not have
to tell a lie just to please somebody or gain something.
Had I not found this way out, I would likely have
followed the same track as everyone else. But I was lucky to be born
into a culture that guides us all towards the Ultimate Wisdom. I
found the first hint of it in an advertisement in an English
language newspaper asking for youngsters to work for a religious
mission. The advertisement also mentioned that the training
programme will culminate in few months of meditation deep in the
Himalayas.
That was something, a completely new way of life.
And because our tradition holds the life of renunciation in respect,
I was dragged towards the calling. At first, it was curiosity and I
promised myself that if I did not get what I wanted, I would return
to so-called mundane life. I took my parent’s and elder’s
permission. There were few objections but neither did they
whole-heartedly support me.
It was a clean adventure and even I did not know
where I was going although what I was leaving behind held little
attraction for me.
It all happened when I met the Swamiji who was
second in command at that religious mission. Except for the
occasional wandering monk who passed through our village begging, I
had not met a Swami or Guru before. My perception of a monk at that
time was someone with long matted hair, a big belly, smothered with
ash and dressed in a loincloth. But this Swamiji, who was to become
my teacher, was clean, educated and tastefully dressed. Without
knowing how I should greet him, I folded my hands in the traditional
namaste and he did not seem to mind.
When he asked why I was interested in following
the renunciation path, I told him I just did not want to repeat what
everyone else was doing. I wanted to know whether life had any
meaning other than being born, educated, getting married, producing
children and then dying a helpless death in old age. I told him that
as I had come from a family of landowners and never knowing money in
plenty I was fascinated with the idea of becoming a millionaire. I
told him that having thought this over, I had decided that even with
a high-salaried job or a prosperous business that might earn me
millions, I would still end up with what the children of many
wealthy families began with. It seemed to be a goal without an end
so I asked the Swamiji whether religion had any goal which would not
leave me with sense of wanting at the end of the journey, no sense
of wondering what would come next.
The Swamiji selected me for the course even
though at that time I had still not decided to join him, as in my
arrogance I had underestimated him. To my mind, he had not told me
anything which I considered profound. I even went to the extent of
showing him the tickets for a matinee show which meant I was not
religious in the ordinary sense of the term, where usually all such
pleasures are renounced.
Suddenly, some visitors arrived to pay their
respects to the Swamiji. And in reply to their query as to what
questions, especially on God, he had asked the course applicants,
the Swamiji replied, “What do they know about God? I want them to
forget God and come to me. I will tell them what ‘It’ is.”
That statement hit me right between the eyes and
it was at that moment, I made the decision to give the course a
trial.
Situation on the outskirts of Mumbai in sylvan
surroundings, Sandeepany sits atop a lovely hillock overlooking a
lake and gardens. From a distance the Siva Linga on top of the
temple looks like an atomic reactor. Indeed, it is a place of high
energy especially while the teacher is there and the teaching is
going on.
On the day I first entered the gate, I
immediately encountered what religious madness could be. I had
travelled to Mumbai by train which had taken almost 36 hours. Mumbai
was completely new to me and after much trouble changing buses and
finding a taxi, I finally reached the ashram gate. A man was sitting
still and silent at the entrance. After much deliberation, I asked
him whether that was the ashram and whether Swamiji was there. The
man did not reply. He did not even behave as though he had heard me.
I dared not repeat the question as I thought ashramites were all
serious people who, if disturbed in meditation, might curse me or
change me into a rat or something. These are the kind of impressions
we gather from the mythology of the tradition. But my discomfort
could have been avoided if there had been at least a sign at the
entrance, as directly next to the gate was another which led to a
private house on top of the hill.
Anyway, I somehow managed to bypass the silent
gateman. I immediately bumped into a youngster who took me to
Swamiji. He received me as though he had known me for millenniums,
which gave me a sense of belonging to the place rightaway.
There was one week to kill before the teaching
began and I used it to adjust to the ashram schedule and accustom
myself to the food. Then the teaching began…
It was late and my friends at Lamasangu agreed we
should resume the talks next day. Clearly, they had identified with
all that I had told them as life is the same everywhere with all its
pain and pleasure, its trials and tribulations.
The most surprising statement one can come across
in this teaching is that “man is all that he is looking for”. The
happiness, the freedom the immortality that we seek lies within
ourselves. Simply turn inward and the outside world will disappear.
But conditioned to the ways of the world, few of us can accept this
fact.
It is like telling the people of Lamasangu that
Kharidunga, with all its cool, calm, serenity, exists right there at
Lamasangu.
The inability to comprehend this is the first
obstacle on the path to Kharidunga. Accustomed to the heat of
Lamasangu, the people there cannot comprehend that there is a place
called Kharidunga, where the sun has lost its power.
But there should neither be an outright rejection
of ideas nor an imposition of ideas in order to have effective
communication. The man lost in his misery, desperate and dejected
after long strife, has lost all faith in himself as well as in the
world. The fact that there can be moments of joy is invariably
received with disbelief, what to talk of eternal joy! Most of us
live with perpetual sorrow.
Accepting something different requires the
patience of a mother trying to feed her baby who is throwing a
tantrum. It is this type of resistance an enlightened master faces
while trying to communicate an idea which lies beyond all words and
descriptions. The teacher must be innovative and patient, infinitely
patient.
When there was a glimmer of doubt in the eyes of
the listeners about the existence of Kharidunga, I told them that
the place is near Mure. They laughed because they never had heard of
the place. Most of us refuse to acknowledge the existence of
something or some place if it is strange to us.
I could not give up because I had faced similar
resistance before I showed them the hills that surrounded Lamasangu.
I asked if they believed there was another side to the hill. They
nodded, and I told them they would have to go beyond where they
thought their perceptions ended. But the hill held no interest for
them, as although they had explored it extensively, they found
nothing substantial enough to change their helpless view of life. It
never occurred to them that there could be another side of the hill
which they must go to, leaving behind all they held on to in the
name of living.
The people of Lamasangu were willing to give my
suggestion a try but not en masse. Scepticism is not a negative
trend if there is a genuine effort to understand before acceptance
or rejection. Or else not only the ignorant can be taken for a ride,
but also the enlightened one. The only difference is when the
ignorant is exploited by the so-called awakened both lose out in the
process. But when the ignorant shrewdly tries to put up a noble
front, he is caught in-between and loses contact with reality, while
himself becoming a loser.
The people of Lamasangu had come across many such
‘awakened’ ones! Their varieties are as tragic and as hilarious as
the life of a pretentious man! There too were pretentious men in
various garbs, using different dictions, leading different ways of
living, reaching nowhere. Ordinary men fell a victim to their
vileness, their caprices, because all of them told something
hitherto unknown to the common man.
They never took into account ordinary normal
day-to-day human experiences, as though those were totally
redundant. Some sang, some talked, some taught meditation, some kept
quiet, some touched with fingers, some with feathers – all in order
to awaken the sleeping man, but for the sleeping man all these were
lullabies and he entered into deeper slumber.
The sounds and touches were comforting because
they were told what they wanted to listen to. The teachers came in
hordes, competing with each other to take care of the minds of the
initiates and there, the ordinary man felt comfortable that at least
he does not have a bother about his own mind, he has done his job
just by being a ‘devotee’ a follower, a member of the group!
Thousands of such people while away their time by
talking about the glory of their master, the glory of his words,
repeating soulfully lined songs and at the end of it all, when songs
stop, the followers disappear, the harsh reality of the life looms
large in front, the man’s dream the spiritual dream – is shattered
and he becomes as vicious as anybody else.
Some in Lamasangu reported that they had heard of
Kharidunga before. Someone had come from there who had talked about
Kharidunga, talked elaborately about the directions, the beauties
and the dangers on the path. It was a beautiful travelogue, read out
from a paper, where neither the reader had gone nor the listeners
could go. But it was a wonderful pastime and they, the villagers of
Lamasangu, had treated ‘the reader’ well for that, gave him a little
product of their labour and the reader, the entertainer, moved into
another city to read the same paper to a different audience.
Then came somebody else, who asked them to close
their eyes and feel the coolness of Kharidunga instantaneously when
asked about their experience, some who did not want to be left
behind, talked of having experienced the coolness; others, who were
honest, said that they never felt anything. However, the speaker
moved into another city, into another place, to another audience, to
exploit the same human emotions where there are always a few who
fall a prey to the suggestions and by the time they realise that
their experience was invalid, they could not tell that to anybody as
they were already committed to the falsehood.
Then there are others who came to Lamasangu to
tell the people there to prepare themselves so that they can find
Kharidunga there, but there has been a never ending preparation.
That speaker had made himself indispensable to the crowd, because
here is a harbinger of hope, who promises that one day Kharidunga
will dawn in Lamasangu… At least keeps people from going wild!
Then comes another who says “since Kharidunga is
not ‘a’ place but, it is at all places in all times, Oh, men! You
have already reached it. That is your Nature, and just know it, as I
tell it to you. You do not have to ‘do’ anything to reach it. Just
‘Be’!” And that is the most difficult thing ever - ‘to be’. It
sounds so easy that some people go on just talking about it while
all along being as miserable as others. Or perhaps, more miserable
than others, when others just laugh at their self-deception.
There is at least some humility in those, the man
who is preparing himself and the man who sings the glory and knows
his own limitations, but this man, who, with strength of logic, has
thrown all sensitivity to winds, becomes a pervert as he sees no
necessity of changing his mental shortcomings and expects others to
adjust to him. Such a man becomes a tyrant, not only a pain and a
tragedy unto himself but also to others.
That is why to be a follower is easier said than
done. If the so-called master is a smooth tyrant, one has to be dumb
not to notice it. If the master is dumb, one must sacrifice all
possibilities of growth which will reveal the limitations of the
master.
It is a great pleasure, a blessing, to follow a
great master who has neither subtle expectation nor retards the
follower’s intellectual growth. It takes away the sense of master’s
exclusiveness to the extent that the follower can become as great as
the master – a master in his own right. What to talk of his
tolerance of all types of minds!
Or else, from a sense of spiritual exclusiveness,
an isolation will be caused, which is not all-inclusive but stands
as an eyesore – a dead and ruined tree in the midst of greenery!
Definitely, Kharidunga being what it is, it is
neither far, nor near to anybody. There is no sense of distance that
has to be covered either quickly or in long time. The distance there
is as much as one feels. And those feelings, not one or two, but
thousands of them are like distinct landmarks to be crossed long
before the Ever Conspicuous becomes Conspicuous! There are some who
have already crossed those landmarks and are on the cross-road just
to discover that the path to Kharidunga lies in all directions
including the point where one is standing. Yet there can be others
who have never got a glimpse of Kharidunga and they have still many
more milestones to cross.
The abruptness of revelations means nothing to
such people. And such people are millions in the world – an extended
Lamasangu. It is meaningless to give them the instantaneous
revelation just to prove one’s exclusiveness as even it is dangerous
to pooh-pooh the abruptness of revelation just to keep a mind
engaged in preparation; unless there is a coordination between the
two, not only the man will despair, but any super-structure based on
the uncoordinated principle will collapse.
The voice of silence must be heard within, in
total stillness. It is a voice without sound, a revelation without
exposure. It is the centre of the centre of the centre of the
centre, yet, it is all-pervasive with no definite circumference, no
periphery whatsoever. There is no distance between the centre and
the periphery, yet it makes such a difference when the man exists in
periphery losing touch with the centre. The man seems to be hanging
from the branches in movement, when the root is ever protected
within.
Man must find the root – the cool Kharidunga
within. The men of Lamasangu had assembled earlier next evening and
they were eager to known the path, where seems to be too many
pitfalls – possible from both the sides – the teacher as well as the
student. The seriousness of the affair was understood. There was no
unnecessary tension. Just an alertness, a readiness, a preparedness,
a sharpness ruled the air. When the words themselves can be a
bondage, how are those words going to reveal the truth? If the words
can create concepts, or thoughts and thereby become obstacles, how
then to remove hundreds and thousands of thoughts already existing,
already tormenting? It seemed as though there was a long way to go
and that feeling did not create despair but a resolve to go beyond
it all, however easy or difficult.
Silence is the most effective mode of
communication, yet it can be totally misunderstood by the
uninitiated. It is like love – a love where the second thing does
not exist. But, when the lover or the beloved insists on a verbal
communion, it becomes vulgar and fragile, because then it becomes
subject to comparison. Or it may be a statement oft repeated and the
lover or the beloved gives no credence to it. Yet words must be
used.
Physical expressions of affection are a must in
order to convince one’s love to another. But that again falsifies
the love as the love must begin from within one’s own self and one
cannot depend upon others for its invocation within one’s own self.
Or once invoked the person must find it always within one’s own self
so that he knows for himself how adorable, how lovable he is in his
own being and it does not need another to confirm his lovability.
Such love, where one abides in one’s own self and
thereby as the essence of all the things and beings in the universe,
cannot be just talked aloud in words. Words are so fragile, so
mortal, so unsubstantial that they cannot carry the burden of the
Infinite Immobile.
Should I keep quiet? Sit still? May be their
minds will chatter. Or should I talk so that I could incapacitate
their mind to talk? Or may be any stillness can instil stillness
within and my talks may trigger further thoughts?
But the mood was such that when I was waiting to
begin to speak something, there was tremendous expectation in the
air and in that deep expectant mood, the men there were getting a
glimpse unto themselves. They had forgotten the immediate
surrounding. The eyes had a vacant look, but there was alertness,
sharpness about it, breathing had slowed down and the limbs were
held still. Darkness had no noise, and inside was luminous silence –
a light which had no heat and neither did it dispel the darkness,
but illumined the darkness as well as the distant stars!
We did not know how long it lasted, but when I
looked up they all nodded in silence – telling as though indeed
Kharidunga was here all along – with its serene calmness. They did
not know how they missed it but now that they have gained it, they
will never miss it again!
EPILOGUE: When I saw them next time, they told
me, they had not seen or read any scriptures, but when somebody read
or talked about the contents of the scriptures they could easily
grasp it all, as the whole thing was only about their own nature.
No more they look beyond the hills with any
expectation. Even if they look, they are amused to see it all
within, even with their eyes closed. Kharidunga is just everywhere
and Lamasangu is just one of the infinite names attributed to it.
Now when you ask them about the name of their
place they just smile, telling you as though they don’t have any,
but if you insist and they have to live and communicate in the world
let it be - ‘Lamasangu’ all the same – as Kharidunga shall be
incomprehensible to all. Kharidunga is neither a name nor a place,
but somebody used that name to go beyond the name into a Namelsss,
faceless existence!
Swami Suddhananda
Samvit Sagar Trust
Tiruvannamalai
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