My Grandfather Janardan Acharya

Janardan Acharya (1904-69)

Janardan Acharya Sir!

An ideal student, an ideal teacher and an ideal human being*

Dr. Gokul Goswami**

“Whenever I think of an ideal teacher, the name of Acharya Sir flashes before my mind’s eye” -- saying this, Dr Barthakur, Professor of Geography in the Gauhati University, stood up from his chair and folded his hands in pranam – as a mark of respect to the memory of the teacher.

That was in the later part of 1973. Acharya Sir had passed away five years earlier. Later on I came to know that Acharya Sir had guided the destiny of many a students of Tinsukia, Dibrugarh, Sadiya, Diphu, Sootea, Nagaon and Mangaldoi. All of them remembered him with great reverence.

Acharya Sir’s popularity and the respect that he commanded can be easily gauged by an incident that took place in 1970 at Gauhati University. Dr Mukunda Madhab Sharma was getting introduced with the students who were admitted in the Previous year of the Sanskrit Department. One of the girls of this new batch introduced herself as Prativa Acharya from Dibrugarh. When Dr Sharma enquired more about her, he came to know that she was Acharya Sir’s daughter. He then related various anecdotes of Sir’s life and said that Acharya Sir was an example of a true Karmayogi.

Born at Jhanji in 1904, in a respectable Brahmin family, which had fallen on bad times, Acharya Sir completed his education from the Benaras Hindu University. Besides taking care of his own education, he also took upon himself the responsibility of educating his younger brother. With his own earnings, he started his own family and by dint of his hard labour, he was able to educate his four sons and three daughters, along with substantially helping his elder brother monetarily as long as he lived.

Whatever task Acharya Sir took upon himself, he approached it with total dedication and sincerity, be it in his teaching profession, or family life or social life. Laziness or tiredness did not figure in his scheme of things. He used to rise from bed at the crack of dawn and after his morning chores, he prepared breakfast for his children if need be. Depending upon his convenience, he either got ready to impart tuitions or he went to work in the kitchen garden or practiced astrology. After completion of these tasks, he used to reach school in time. He used to work tirelessly for hours on end, but in spite of this he did not show any sign of fatigue. After school too, he either worked in his garden, or studied people’s horoscopes and in the evening, he conducted tuitions. In spite of working round the clock, he was able to keep anger at bay and always maintained a cheerful disposition. He used to take pride in the fact that every penny that he earned, was earned by fair means. For this he earned the respect and recognition from the young and the old alike. Once on hearing that Acharya Sir had constructed a commodious house, historian Benudhar Sharma who was like an elder brother to him, went all the way to Dibrugarh from Guwahati just to have a look at it. When he saw the house, tears of happiness welled up in his eyes and in joy he exclaimed that the house built with the sweat and blood of Janardan (Acharya Sir) was not just a house but as good as a royal palace.

To supplement his income, Acharya Sir took up private tuitions. But the aim behind these tuitions was not merely to earn money, but also to sincerely guide the students. Sir remained satisfied even with students who paid him something in kind instead of cash. He imparted lessons to all without any discrimination whatsoever.

Acharya Sir was good in all subjects -- right from English to Sanskrit. But he used to abhor Maths. This abhorrence was to such an extent, that after completing the Maths paper during his Matriculation, the first thing he did was to throw away all the books relating to Maths and the question paper, into the Bhogdoi river.

Students, who were fortunate enough to be guided in their academic pursuit by Acharya Sir, always remembered him with love and gratitude in later life, irrespective of the position they held. If Sir’s daughters were late in returning home at any time, they used to be escorted home, when any of these students chanced upon them. When Acharya Sir was constructing his house at Chiring Chapori in Dibrugarh, he once needed more cement bags. Upon being approached for the same, the Supply Inspector politely informed Acharya Sir that his quota was over and only the Deputy Commissioner could permit more bags of cement to be issued to him. Accordingly Acharya Sir went to the Deputy Commissioner. The Deputy Commissioner was at a meeting. The clerk politely ventured to request Acharya Sir not to go in. But Acharya Sir said that he wanted to see the face of the Deputy Commissioner just to know who he was, and he peeped in the door. The Deputy Commissioner chanced to see him. He immediately stopped the meeting exclaiming, “Acharya Sir has come,” got up from his seat, went outside and welcoming Acharya Sir enquired what brought him there. Upon coming to know of his problem, he immediately picked up the phone, called the Supply Inspector and instructed him to issue as many bags of cement as Acharya Sir wanted and to himself come to him to get the permit issued.

Acharya Sir had the habit of tearing his cheque at the wrong place. So when he gave his cheque, the receiving clerk used to take it to the Agent and show that it was improperly torn. Each time that it happened, the Agent used to sign it and forward the cheque for payment. After many such occasions, when Acharya Sir once came, the Agent with folded hands requested him to step in to his chamber for a minute or two and very humbly told him, “Sir, could you kindly tear your cheque a little to the left. Otherwise each time I have to sign it before forwarding for payment.”

The former Director of Health Services, Assam, Dr. Jiten Gohain, who happened to be Acharya Sir’s student regarded him with great respect. He was the first to detect Cancer in Acharya Sir. Scores of years after Acharya Sir had passed on, Jiten Gohain was delighted to know that Acharya Sir’s eldest son Dr. Probin Chandra Acharya had become his neighbour near his house at Guwahati. Soon after, Dr. Jiten Gohain, who was himself suffering from Cancer, passed away. At his deathbed, one of his last instructions to his good wife was to always remain in good terms with Probin Acharya’s family as he happened to be Acharya Sir’s son.

A few students of Acharya Sir in spite of their becoming petty thieves had their respect for Sir intact. Such a group accosted once a family, which had arrived from Mariani around midnight. The group took away whatever they could from the family. Then in order to fix the fare of the rickshawalla, they asked them their destination. When the group came to know that the family was heading for Acharya Sir’s place, they not only returned whatever they had taken, but also safely escorted them to Sir’s house.

Acharya Sir had to struggle hard with acute poverty during his childhood. But even then he did not let poverty thwart his personal aspirations. He was able to manage the affairs of his family smoothly and give proper education to all his children, for he was able to prioritize needs and catered for them accordingly. He bought a “banjo” for his second son having interest in music and sitars for his daughters. He also got his eldest and third son educated in Agra and Delhi respectively. He never took any debts during his lifetime and left no debts on his death. Instead, he established the family fortunes on firm and strong foundations during his lifetime itself. Only once when he was severely ill and was bed-ridden for some months, his wife’s immediate elder brother Captain (Dr.) Atul Chandra Baruah sent him some money for those months to meet the expenses of the special rich diet Acharya Sir was instructed to be on by his doctor. It was difficult to gauge the number of sets of clothes that he had. Most probably not many. But everyday he was neatly turned out. Acharya Sir never used torn clothes or shoes and never gave his shoes to anybody else to wear.

Apart from his school job, Acharya Sir also used to impart tuitions, planted vegetables in his kitchen garden, and at times even prepared breakfast and lunch for his family. But in spite of this busy schedule, he found time to author a textbook in Sanskrit, titled “Naba Siksha Patham.” He also translated from Sanskrit into Assamese the “Murkha-Shatak” and wrote a book - “Bharotor Shresta Nari” or Great Women of India, which was, however, not published due to lack of funds. Regarding his social obligations, he was always in the forefront. At public meetings whether in Dibrugarh, or in Mangaldoi, he could enthral the audience with his speeches, which he laced with Sanskrit slokas and anecdotes. Whether the meeting was of a group of teachers or a group of scholars, whatever the subject on which he was expected to speak, he spoke with equal ease. Acharya Sir was one of those few Assamese pundits who could deliver speeches in Sanskrit.

Posted for many years outside Dibrugarh, the town in which he had settled along with his family, whenever Acharya Sir used to come to visit his chosen place of residence at Chiring Chapori, Dibrugarh, there used to be a veritable mela or fair at his house. The walking encyclopedia of knowledge that he was, a visit to the not too far off market used to take him thrice the time it should ordinarily take, for people hailed him from all nooks and corners and he had to stop to exchange greetings and at least a few words with them.

So deep was his attachment to learning that he built up a personal library of books, the Acharya Puthi Bharal, which included several rare and old volumes along with the modern classics. After obtaining his B.A. degree in Philosophy and Sanskrit from Benaras Hindu University, Varanasi, and Vyakaran Tirtha, Sastri and Sahitya Bhusan degrees from traditional Sanskrit institutions of learning in the early 1930s, Janardan got his B.T. degree from Shillong in 1950. Once his shoes having got worn out, he went to the market to purchase a new pair. But he chanced to come across a good book he did not possess, so he bought that book instead of a pair of shoes with the money he had!

As Janardan Acharya was well versed in the scriptures and also perhaps because the Deka or Junior Satradhikar of Garmur Satra, (one of the four big principal Satras of Majuli, the seat of Neo-Vaishnavite culture) had been taken by him to Benaras and afterwards became the Satradhikar, he was sometimes invited to adjudicate disputes among the Satras. Once one of the Satradhikars was camping on the banks of the Brahmaputra at Dibrugarh. It was the tradition then to present poka mithoi (a traditional sweetmeat ball) to honoured guests as a mark of respect. When Acharya Sir visited the camp, he was presented with an especially large poka mithoi as a mark of honour and respect, and he was then escorted to the Satradhikar, while his children were given small balls of mithoi to eat.

The one most important trait in Sir’s character that we all should try to emulate is his strong will power as also his great presence of mind. He was also a very insistent and disciplined person. Though having a fiery temper, he kept it well under control.

Born into a poor family of Jhanji’s Bamungaon, which at times could not even afford two square meals a day, Acharya Sir, after matriculation, left for Benaras to pursue his higher education, with a tin box of 20 inches and a bag on his shoulder as his only belonging. In his bag, he carried some rice, a small pan, a water pot and a matchbox. Whenever he used to feel hungry, he got down at stations, took out his rice and pan and began to cook. Sometimes the train left, even before he could finish cooking. But he waited patiently for the next train. That was because he used to take rice cooked with his own hands only. In order to buy train tickets to Benaras, he after reaching Kolkata, got down there and found employment with a Vaid or Ayurvedic physician. After having trained in the basics of Ayurveda and having earned the required sum of money, he got up on a train for Benaras framing one sentence in Hindi, “Kashi Kitni Dur.”

After reaching Benaras, Janardan took shelter at the house of an aristocratic Bengali family. He struck a deal with the family that he would gather flowers and tulsi, needed for puja, for them and in return he will have two meals at their home. Gradually he picked up the Hindi language and began to conduct tuitions. With the help of the Bengali gentleman, he even secured admission in a college of Benaras Hindu University. Though he secured admission, there was another hindrance in his path, that of paying his college fees. But here too, he found a way out. Janardan found employment in a newspaper and through this and other such means was able to pay his college fees. There was an interesting incident during Janardan’s stay in Benaras. There was a Professor in Benaras Hindu University by name Puntam Baker. He was formerly a Barrister but had one drawback, his uncontrollable temper. Once he had even beaten up the Judge with his slippers and had to undergo imprisonment due to that. But Pandit Madan Mohan Malviya brought him as teacher in Benaras Hindu University keeping in view his sterling academic attainments. Now a fellow student of Janardan from Jorhat once gave proxy in Prof. Puntam Baker’s class. The Professors those days had great powers and Prof. Baker expelled that student for ever and hung up a notice in the notice board. The unfortunate student approached Janardan to find out some solution. Janardan decided to approach Acharya Dhruba, the pro-Vice Chancellor. It was well known that if anyone approached Acharya Dhruba just after he came out of his shrine early in the morning, and asked anything from him, Acharya Dhruba never said no. The problem was how to enter the guarded house of the Acharya. Anyhow, the next day after Acharya Dhruba had come back from his dawn bath in the Ganga and entered his shrine to do homa (ritualistic oblations to the sacred fire), Janardan and his classmate surreptitiously entered his house and hid under the stairs of the shrine. Just as Acharya Dhruba came out after puja, they fell at his feet. Acharya Dhruba never thought of inquiring how they had come inside. He greeted them warm-heartedly. Janardan told that the classmate had done a grievous wrong by putting proxy and had been expelled for ever by Prof. Puntam Baker. Acharya Dhruba endorsed Prof. Baker’s action. Then Janardan beseeched on behalf of his fellow student that his life would go waste, etc., etc. At this Acharya Dhruba said that, “Okay, I am reducing the term to one year.” Upon further pleading that the student had come from far away Assam, etc., etc., the Acharya reduced the sentence to one month, then one day, and finally on being told of the bad reputation that the student would earn, he cancelled the expelling warning the student not to repeat his action. Going to the University Acharya Dhruba tore off the expel notice from the notice board and for one month thence, he was berated by Prof. Puntam Baker! As for the student from Jorhat, his fellow students advised him not to attend Puntam Baker’s classes for one month at least, or else he would be beaten up!

Janardan while studying at Benaras, also took his parents there on a pilgrimage. He went on to pass his B.A. exams with Sanskrit and Philosophy and secured admission in the M.A. classes. But before he could sit for his final exams, he had to return home, for his father Jyogeshwar Acharya had taken ill and passed away soon after. After that he could not return to Benaras to appear for his final exams, but many took him to be a Masters degree holder. His mother Tirthada having passed away before, Janardan was forced to settle down by his elders.

Acharya Sir was adept at all kinds of work, be it cooking in the kitchen or performing the duties of a priest in a puja. When he was offered in marriage Padmapriya, the pampered daughter of the Mouzadar of Teok, who happened to be the youngest sister of Dhwani Kavi Binanda Chandra Baruah, he took upon himself the task of teaching her the household works right from cleaning fish to weaving. His relationship with his wife was a mentor-disciple relationship which was at the same time tender and gentle. He used to take his wife out to see films in cinema halls, his favourite film being “Do Aankhe Barah Haat.” Guiding his wife in all important matters, he had promised his wife to explain to her the Vedas, Upanishads and other scriptures once he came home after retirement. But cancer prevented him from fulfilling his promise and he died just after retiring as Principal, Normal School (Teacher’s Training School), Sootea. Decades later, at her deathbed, his wife’s only complaint against her husband was that he had left her so early in life. When Acharya Sir was at Dibrugarh, he used to after reading the newspapers which was delivered in the evening time only, get his children to come one by one starting from the youngest, and after reading the newspaper report to their mother the latest news. Acharya Sir used to jokingly say, “If you want to get first-class, study for one hour daily, and if you want to get second class, study for two hours daily!” He wanted his children to study with all concentration during the time they devoted to studies. He used to get up very early and wake up his children too by passing by the children’s bedroom chanting Sacred Sanskrit slokas (incantations), his kharams (wooden slippers) making a clattering sound. Generally on evenings, he used to gather his children on the inside verandah and tell them stories from Shakespeare, from the Classics like Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver’s Travels, from Sanskrit texts like the Hitopedesha or Nitishataka sloka or recount anecdotes of teachers at Benaras Hindu University like Pt. Madan Mohan Malaviya, Acharya Dhruba and others.

Janardan had a great sense of humour. It was believed in those days that crying “Narada, Narada” when a quarrel was going on increases the quarrel! However, it must be added here that Narada, the Divine bard, sage and mischief-maker always had a good end in mind and his mischief ultimately proves beneficial to all the parties concerned. So, for an ultimate happy outcome, Janardan Acharya used to clap his hands and cry out “Narada, Narada,” when his neighbours used to quarrel! Acharya Sir used to often quote Benudhar Sharma’s words that weighing the gravity of tasks at hand, one should not hesitate to even wash the feet of a goat!

Acharya Sir never accepted defeat in the struggle of life. In day-to-day affairs, he could accept defeat and victory both with equal ease. He worked tirelessly and did not care for the result. He used to quote from the Gita and advised his students that, one should treat happiness and unhappiness, victory and defeat equally. He also warned that we have the right only to work, but we have no right over the outcome.

Janardan Acharya was indeed an Acharya who was an ideal student, an ideal teacher and above all, he was an ideal human being.

An astrologer that he was, Janardan Acharya perhaps had premonition about his death. On 19 January of 1969, at 2 a.m. in the night, Acharya Sir’s eventful life came to an end. Though he is no more, his ideals still continue to inspire many.

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* Published in the Prantik, 1-5 October, 1997 issue. Translated from original Assamese by Ms. Jolly Saikia Gogoi in late August, 2008. Suitably edited by Ankur Acharya, Janardan Acharya’s grandson on September 1, 2008.

Source: Chinta, Smriti Ityadir Dusa Pristha: A collection of articles of current interest by Dr. Gokul Goswami. Published by Mrs. Prativa Goswami, Nagaon – 782 001. First Edition: July 2003.

** Dr. Gokul Goswami retired as Chief Scientist, Dalmia Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, Orissa and is now settled in Nagaon.

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Pain -- my friend's (God's) expression of His Love

Leaves of an Ashrama: 2 Pain as God's Prod
Swami Vidyatmananda
"Why should there be suffering?" This is a familiar question, asked by everyone who has begun to think about the deeper mysteries of life. "Why does the Almighty permit pain? Shame on him! If God were the least bit humanitarian he would have abolished misery long ago, or would not have included it in his plan."
On the other hand, there is the story of Kunthi1, the mother of the Pandava brothers, who prayed that she might never be free from distress. "Pain", she said, "drives my mind to the Lord Krishna. So let me always suffer, in order that my thoughts may always run to him." And I recall the remark of a senior swami, commenting on the questionable activities of a certain individual. "Yes, what he is doing is wrong. But let him be. What he is doing will cause him to suffer; and suffering will wake him up and make him stop."
Although I am repelled by misery and would escape it, yet I have come to see something wonderful in it. Beneath the unpleasant hides the beneficial. Pain is the whip that Providence uses to drive us - against our will - to our best destination.
Every one of us is looking for bliss. This search may, for example, cause one to fall in love. One pursues an earthly object because of the promise of beauty and bliss one sees in it. There are moments of joy in such human relationships. But, as everyone knows, these are mainly the come-ons -Êthe sales pitches of the barkers out in front of the carnival tent. Once inside, one finds the show not at all up to the advertising.
My search for pleasure has brought me pain. This again drives me on to continue the hunt for joy. No luck! I try something else. But again the same result. Each shiny apple turns rotten as soon as I bite into it.
But something good is happening. The alternatives open to me are diminishing. Pain is driving me fron one position to another, each as untenable as the previous one. At last I come to the end of all possibilities. There is now nothing left but God.
I have been told countless times that renunciation is the indispensable condition of religion. I know it, but I can't put it into practice. Who can renounce willingly, rationally, because it is the right thing to do? Attachments have to be torn away; or I have to drop them because to hold them hurts me more than letting them go. We don't renounce, we are forced to relinquish; and pain is the agent that forces this to happen.
I can see that tribulation is God's instrument of mercy. Instead of berating Him for having made suffering a part of the scheme, I should thank God for having done so. Pain is the Lord's special invention for bringing us to His side.

http://www.vedantauk.com/magazine_articles_March4.htm

The Four Wives

Once upon a time, there was a rich King who had four wives.He loved the fourth wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best. He also loved the third wife very much and was always showing her off to neighbouring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave him for another. He also loved his second wife. She was his confidante and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her to help him get through the difficult times.The king's first wife was very quiet, mostly in the inner chambers, seen very little but always there to help the king in every way. Although she loved the king deeply, he hardly took any notice of her.One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was short. He thought of his luxurious life and pondered, "I now have four wives with me, but when I die, I'll be all alone."Thus, he asked the fourth wife, "I have loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?""No way!" replied the fourth wife and she walked away without another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife right into his heart.The sad King then asked the third wife, "I have loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?""No!" replied the third wife. "Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold.He then asked the second wife, "I have always turned to you for help and you've always been there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?""I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!" replied the second wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." Her answer left the King devastated.Then a voice called out: "I will always be with you wherever you are, because you and I are one. You do not know that you exist because of me and I will never abandon you."Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much better care of you when I had the chance!"In truth, we all have four wives in our lives... Our fourth wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die.Our third wife is our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, it will all go to others.Our second wife is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.And our first wife is our Soul, very often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the ego. It stays behind the veil waiting for our call. But being unaware, we pay very little attention to it.However, it is our Soul which is with us always and takes us through everything, because it is our true and eternal Being.
Source: Internet
Courtesy: Holy Mother Cyber Tantu

The Vision of Shiva

THE VISION OF SHIVA

Dark Mother! Always gliding near with soft feet,

Have none chanted for Thee a chant of fullest welcome?

Walt Whitman

It may have been that the forefathers saw it in the mountains. Or it may have been elsewhere. Somewhere it came to the Hindu mind that the beauty of snowpeaks and moonlight, and standing water, was different from all other loveliness of colour and profusion and many-channelled scene.

It was as though Nature, the great Mother, were clothed in raiment of green, broidered with birds and flowers and fruits, and veiled in blue, adorned with many jewels, and yet as if, amidst all the restless pomp and clamour of her glory, would shine through now and then, a hint of something different. Something white and austere and pure; something compelling quiet; something silent and passionless, and eternally alone. Even the beauty of the world, then, suggested a twofold essence. Wherever the Hindu looked, he found this duality repeated, -- light and shadow, attraction and repulsion, microcosm and macrocosm, cause and effect.

Nay, he looked into human life itself, and he found humanity as man and woman, soul and body.

Here was a clue. On the plane of symbolism, the soul of things somehow became associated with the manly form, and the manifested energy (Nature, as we call it) with that of woman and motherhood. In this conception will be noted the deliberate statement that God and Nature are necessary to each other as the complementary manifestations of One, just as we find in the male and the female together, Humanity. That is to say, Nature itself is God, as truly as Nature’s soul. “Are God and Nature then at strife?” cries, not only a great poet, but the whole heart of our Western religion today. And far back from out of the dim centuries comes the hushed whisper of the Indian sages – “Look closer, brother! They are not even two, but one!” Under this aspect, the One Existence is known as Purush and Prakriti, Soul and Energy.

The highest representation of the Divine is always human. The shadow of a great rock in a weary land is a beautiful presentment of some imaginary qualities of God, but not for one moment does it delude the mind into the belief that here at last it has the thing itself. So with the Light and the Door, the Mountain and the Shield. These were not images that could take captive both brain and heart, firing a man to die in their defence. Very different was it with those other pictures, the Good Shepherd, the Eternal Father!

Here a strange mental confusion is imminent. The mystery behind all form is at last named in a formula so convincing, so appealing, so satisfying, that distinction ceases; we forget that even this is not final, that beyond the expression, and apart from it, lies the whole immensity.

Hinduism has avoided this danger of fixedness in a very curious way. Of all the peoples of the earth, it might be claimed that Hindus are apparently the most, and at heart the least, idolatrous. For the application of their symbols is many-centred, like the fire in opals.

This Purush and Prakriti utters a great principle. The relation of God to Nature is one demonstration of it. The soul and experience offer us another. The dynamo and the force that charges it would be a third.

This last illustration deserves a moment’s attention. Everywhere we see the phenomenon of one waiting to be touched by another, in order to manifest power and activity. The two are known in India as Siva and Sakti. As the knight waits for the sight of his own lady, powerless without the inspiration of her touch, as the disciple waits for the master, and finds in him at last the meaning of all his life before, so the soul lies inert, passive, unstirred by the external, till the great moment comes, and it looks up at the shock of some divine catastrophe, to know in a flash that the whole of the without,-- the whole of life, and time, and nature, and experience—like the within, is also God.

It is the beatific vision, says the West: it is realisation of the Self, here and now, declares the East.

Of such a moment is the Kali image symbol—the soul opening its eyes upon the world and seeing God.

We have seen that anthropomorphic representation of the Divine is absolutely necessary to human nature. But to learn the manner and method of that expression, we must know the whole heart and feeling of a people. To us, ideal manhood includes the king, the master, and the father. He must be supreme. He goes forth before His armies as general and sovereign. He counts the very hairs of His children’s heads. He avenges their wrongs, and He protects from pestilence. He owns the vineyard of the world, and Himself prunes and cares for the chosen vine. Perfect in love, perfect in administration, perfect in power: ideal householder, ideal judge, ideal ruler. Such is the anthropomorphism of the West.

How strangely different is that of India! There, life has one test, one standard, and one alone. Does a man know God or not? That is all. No question of fruits, no question of activity, no question of happiness. Only—has the soul set out on the quest of realisation?

How literally this is the one passion we may see in popular drama. There, the romantic motive is of no account. That Jack should have his Joan (or not have her) is a mere incident, passed over with no superfluous words, at the beginning of things. But we sit for hours absorbed, enthralled, to know—when shall these men attain to God. Or even, when shall they discover that nothing but God is worth the having?

And of this stage of development, renunciation is accepted as the outward sign. For in that moment when the red rose of the love of God springs and blossoms in a man’s heart, -- so that he cries out: “Like as the hart panteth after the waterbrooks, so longeth my soul after Thee, O God!”— in that moment, as Asia knows well, everything else falls away from him. All the manifold satisfactions of the flesh become a burden. Home and kindred and intercourse with the world are a bondage. Food and sleep and the necessities of the physical life seem indifferent or intolerable. And so it comes that the Great God of the Hindu imagination is a beggar. Covered with the ashes of His sacrificial fire, so that He is white like snow, His hair growing untended in huge masses, oblivious of cold or heat, silent, remote from men, He sits absorbed in eternal meditation.

Those human eyes of His are half closed. Though worlds are uttered and destroyed with every breath, it is nothing to Him. All comes and goes before Him like a dream. Such is the meaning of the curious unrealism of the image. But one faculty is all activity. Within it has been indrawn all the force of all the senses. Upright in the middle of the forehead looks forth the third eye, the eye of inner wisdom. It is natural then, that Shiva the Great God, set forth as ideal manhood, should be known amongst other names as the Wondrous Eyed.

He is the Refuge of Animals. About His neck have wound the serpents, whom none else would receive.

Never did he turn any away. The mad and the eccentric, the crazed, and the queer, and the half-witted amongst men—for all these there is room with Shiva. His love will embrace even the demoniac.

He accepts that which all else reject. All the pain and evil of the Universe He took as His share, to save the world, when He drank the poison of things, and made His throat blue for ever.

He possesses so little! Only the old bull on which he rides, and the tiger-skin of meditation, and a string or two of praying beads—no more.

And, last of all, He is so easily pleased! Could any trait be so exquisite as this? Only pure water and a few grains of rice, and a green leaf or two may be offered to Him daily, for the Great God in matters of this world is very very simple, and sets no store by things for which we struggle and lie and slay our fellow men. Such is the picture that springs to the Indian mind, as representing the Soul of the Universe—Siva, the All-Merciful, the Destroyer of Ignorance, the Great God. Such is the form in which are uttered finally those first faint suggestions of the light of Himalayan snow peaks and the new moon shining on still waters. Perfect renunciation, perfect withdrawnness, perfect absorption in eternity,--these things alone are worthy to be told concerning Him Who is “the Sweetest of the Sweet, the most Terrible of the Terrible, the Lord of Heroes, and the Wondrous-Eyed.”

Listen to the prayer that rises to Him daily from many a worshipper, through the length and breadth of India:-

“From the Unreal lead us to the Real,

From Darkness lead us unto Light,

From Death lead us to Immortality.

Reach us through and through ourself,

And evermore protect us,--

O Thou Terrible!—from ignorance,

By Thy sweet compassionate face.”

Such is Siva—ideal of Manhood, embodiment of Godhead.

As the Purush, or Soul, He is Consort and Spouse of Maya, Nature, the fleeting diversity of sense. It is in this relation that we find Him beneath the feet of Kali. His recumbent posture signifies inertness, the soul untouched and indifferent to the external. Kali has been executing a wild dance of carnage. On all sides She has left evidences of Her reign of terror. The garland of skulls is round her neck; still in Her hands She holds the bloody weapon and a freshly-severed head. Suddenly She has stepped unwittingly on the body of Her Husband. Her foot is on His breast. He has looked up, awakened by that touch, and They are gazing into each other’s eyes. Her right hands are raised in involuntary blessing, and Her tongue makes an exaggerated gesture of shyness and surprise, once common to Indian women of the villages.

And He, what does He see? To Him, She is all beauty—this woman nude and terrible and black who tells the name of God on the skulls of the dead, who creates the bloodshed on which demons fatten, who slays rejoicing and repents not, and blesses Him only that lies crushed beneath Her feet.

Her mass of black hair flows behind Her like the wind, or like time, “the drift and passage of things.” But to the great third eye even time is one, and that one, God. She is blue almost to blackness, like a mighty shadow, and bare like the dread realities of life and death. But for Him there is no shadow. Deep into the heart of that Most Terrible, He looks unshrinking, and in the ecstasy of recognition He calls Her Mother. So shall ever be the union of the soul with God.

Do we understand what the background is from which such a thought as this could spring? For the Kali-image is not so much a picture of the deity, as the utterance of the secret of our own lives.

The soul in realisation beholds the mother—how? The picture of green lawns and smiling skies and flowers steeped in sunshine, cannot deceive the All-Knower. Under the apparent loveliness, He sees life preying on life, the rivers breaking down the mountains, the comet poised in mid-space to strike. Around him rises up the wail of all the creatures, the moan of pain, and the sob of greed, and the pitiful cry of little things in fear. Irresponsible, without mercy, seems the spirit of time—deaf to the woes of man, or answering them only with a peal of laughter.

Such is the world as the Hindu mind is predisposed to see it. “Verily,” says the heart wearily, “Death is greater than Life, yea and better!”

Not so the supreme soul in its hour of vision! No coward’s sigh of exhaustion, no selfish prayer for Mercy, no idle resignation there! Bend low, and you shall hear the answer that India makes to the Eternal Motherhood, through all her ages of torture and despair. Listen well, for the voice is low that speaks, and the crash of ruin mighty:--

“Though Thou slay me, yet will I trust in Thee!” After all, has anyone of us found God in any other form than in this—the Vision of Siva? Have not the great intuitions of our life all come to us in moments when the cup was bitterest? Has it not always been with sobs of desolation that we have seen the Absolute triumphant in Love?

Behold, we also, O Mother, are Thy Children! Though Thou Slay us, yet will we trust in Thee!

***

The hour is gone, and the vision is passed away, the vision of the greatest symbol, perhaps, that man has ever imagined for himself. The hour is past, and we are back amongst the mountains in the early ages.

There is a gathering of the tribes for a Vedic sacrifice. Yonder, the bull majestically paces towards us, laden with wood for the sacrificial fire.

Now it is lighted, and from the central mass rises the blue-throated flame, while round the edge, leaving the fuel black and charred, curl those greedy red tongues of fire, to each of which the wise men gave its separate name—the Black, the Terrible, and so on. The priests chant texts, and the people wait upon the worship. And we see faces-in-the-fire of the time to be, when the eyes of the poet shall rest upon the sacrifice, and shall fashion therefrom this mighty vision of God and nature, the soul and life.

For scholars say that Siva is but the fire of Vedic rites personified. He is the wood borne upon the bull, and the flame which is white, with a patch of blue colour at the throat.

As for Kali, She, it is claimed, was one of His powers, one of the red licking flames, which char and blacken the wood that is not consumed. In token of which we see to this day Her protruding tongue.

--Sister Nivedita in Kali the Mother

Bhaja Govindam

Of all the religious hymns in Sanskrit, Bhaja Govindam of Sri Sankaracharya is probably the most popular. The highest truths of Vedanta have been set into mnemonic verses in very simple language. No wonder, in all parts of India—and even in some places outside India—this little and lovely lyric is chanted and sung whole-heartedly by innumerable people for their hearts’ solace.

Following is a lucid translation of the Bhaja Govindam in English verse by Swami Nikhilananda, the translator of Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna into English.

---

Worship Govinda, worship Govinda,

Worship Govinda, foolish one!

Rules of grammar profit nothing

Once the hour of death draws nigh.

Renounce, O fool, your ceaseless thirst

For hoarding gold and precious gems;

Content yourself with what may come

Through deeds performed in earlier lives;

Devote your mind to righteousness

And let dispassion be your law. (1)

Lust at the sight of a woman’s body

Springs from ignorance, springs from error;

Inwardly reason, over and over,

Bodies are flesh and blood and fat. (2)

Uncertain is the life of man

As rain-drops on a lotus leaf;

The whole of humankind is prey

To grief and ego and disease. (3)

While a man supports his family,

See what loving care they show!

But when his aging body falters,

Nearing the time of dissolution,

None, not even his nearest kin,

Will think to ask him how he fares. (4)

While man’s soul remains in his body,

Fondly his family wish him well;

But when the life-breath leaves its dwelling,

Even his wife will flee in fear. (5)

Remember, riches bring in grief;

Truly, no joy abides in them.

A rich man even fears his son;

This is the position everywhere. (6)

Lost in play is the carefree stripling

Lost in his sweetheart’s charms, the youth;

The old man broods upon his sorrows;

None there is, alas, whose spirit

Yearns to be lost in the Parabrahman. (7)

Who is your wife? And who your child?

Strange indeed is this mortal world!

Who are you? And who is your own?

Where is the region whence you come?

Brother, ponder on these things. (8)

Good association breeds detachment;

Detachment leads to freedom from delusion;

Undeluded, one contacts changeless Reality;

Contact with Reality bestows Liberation-while-alive. (9)

Youth being fled, what good is passion?

Water gone, what use a lake?

Where to be found our friends and kinsmen

Once the money’s all exhausted?

Where is the world, when Truth is known? (10)

Boast not of youth or friends or wealth;

Swifter than eyes can wink, by Time

Each one of these is stolen away,

Abjure the illusion of the world

And join yourself to timeless Truth. (11)

Sunrise and sunset, daylight and darkness,

Winter and springtime, come and go;

Even the course of time is playful;

Life itself soon ebbs away;

But man’s vain hope, alas! Goes onward,

Tirelessly onward evermore. (12)

Through this bouquet of a dozen verses

Was imparted succinctly to a grammarian

Instruction supreme by the all-knowing

Sankara, adored as the Bhagavadpada. (13)

Addenda to Bhaja Govindam. English translation by the same Swami.

Carpatapanjarika

Dreaming of wife, dreaming of wealth,

Why do you roam restless as the wind?

Is there none to take you in charge?

Know then, my friend, in all the three worlds

The company of the good is the only boat

That can take you across the samsara sea. (1)

Many are those whose locks are matted,

Many whose heads are closely shaved, Many who pluck out all their hair;

Some of them wearing robes of ochre,

Some of them clad in other colours —

All these things for their stomach’s sake.

Seeing Truth revealed before them,

Still the deluded see It not. (2)

Feeble has grown the old man’s body,

Toothless his gums and bald his head;

But there he goes, upon his crutches,

Clinging firmly to fruitless hope! (3)

Seeking for warmth, the penniless beggar

Closely crouches before his fire,

Or sits with only the sun to warm him;

Nightly he lays him down to slumber,

Curling up to keep out the cold;

Hungrily eats his beggar’s portion

Out of the bowl his hands provide him;

Takes up his dwelling under a tree:

Still is his heart a helpless prisoner

Bound with the chains of empty hope. (4)

Though, for the sake of his salvation,

Man may go a-pilgrimage to Ganga-sagara

Keep his vows, and give to the poor,

Failing the Knowledge of the Highest,

Nothing of this assures him freedom

Even in the span of a hundred lives. (5)

Make of a temple or a tree your home,

Clothe yourself in the skin of a deer,

And use the bare earth for your bed,

Avoiding gifts and sense delights:

Could any fail to be content,

Blest with dispassion such as this? (6)

Plunge in yoga or in enjoyment,

Mix with all or stand severely apart;

For the heart that delights ever in Brahman

It is bliss, bliss, bliss—bliss without end. (7)

Let a man but read from the Gita,

Drink of the Ganges but a drop,

Worship but once the Lord Almighty,

And he will set at rest for ever

All his fear of the King of Death. (8)

Birth unceasing! Death unceasing!

Ever to pass through a mother’s womb!

Hard to cross is the world’s wide ocean:

Lord, redeem me through Thy mercy. (9)

Rags cast off along the highway

Serve as a garment for the monk;

Freed from vice and freed from virtue,

Onward he wanders; in his sight

Nor I nor you nor the world exists.

Why, then, so give way to sorrow? (10)

Who am I? And who are you?

What is the place from which I come?

Who is my mother? Who my sire?

Pondering thus, perceive them all

As fancies only, without substance;

Give up the world as an idle dream. (11)

Vishnu alone it is who dwells

In you, in me, in everything;

Empty of meaning is your wrath,

And the impatience you reveal.

Seeing yourself in everyone,

Have done with all diversity. (12)

Be not attached to friend or foe,

To son or kinsman, peace or war;

If you aspire to Vishnu’s realm,

Look upon all things equally. (13)

Give up the curse of lust and wrath;

Give up delusion, give up greed;

Remember who you really are.

Fools are they that are blind to Self:

Cast into hell, they suffer there. (14)

Every day recite from the Gita;

Chant the thousand names of Vishnu,

Cherishing Him within your heart,

Take delight to be with the holy;

Give your riches away to the poor. (15)

He who yields to lust for pleasure

Leaves his frame a prey to disease;

Yet, though death is the final ending,

None forswears his sinfulness. (16)

Control the self, restrain the breath,

Sift out the transient from the True,

Repeat the holy name of God,

And still the restless mind within.

To this, the universal rule,

Apply yourself with heart and soul. (17)

Cherish your guru’s lotus feet

And free yourself without delay

From the enslavement of this world;

Curb your senses and your mind

And see the Lord within your heart. (18)

Thus was a silly grammarian

Lost in conning rules

Cleansed of his narrow vision

And shown the Light by Sankara’s apostles. (19)

Worship Govinda, worship Govinda,

Worship Govinda, foolish one!

Other than chanting the Lord’s sweet names,

Means there is none to cross life’s ocean. (20)

Mother, make us strong in humility

Pushpanjali to Sri Sarada Devi Pravrajika Shraddhaprana
Prabuddha Bharata


http://www.eng.vedanta.ru/library/prabuddha_bharata/June2005_pushpanjali_to_Sri_Sarada_Devi.php

Pushpanjali to Sri Sarada Devi


Pravrajika Shraddhaprana


Astrange thing has happened today. All of you know that Jagaddhatri Puja is just now going on as usual in Jayrambati. Is it not strange that instead of planning a pilgrimage trip to Jayrambati, we just decided to come north-west to Delhi? But the occasion is the same, the same auspicious occasion of Jagaddhatri Puja. So you find me here in New Delhi. This is part of Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi’s 150th birth anniversary celebrations.

There is so little left to tell about Holy Mother that is not known or heard at all that anything I say can only be a repetition, and this I want to avoid. But how come this lady, Sri Sarada Devi, who found it difficult to come out of the nahabat to see even Sri Ramakri­shna, sometimes for a whole month, is now moving round the world? This is not my exaggeration. It was Swami Vireswaranandaji who first made us conscious of this, when he said, ‘Do you know the West now wants Mother more than Sri Ramakrishna or Swami Vivekananda?’ I was surprised, but now we know how true it is. I never knew I would come to Delhi for this occasion. Since the age of three or four, I have been in contact with the Rama­krishna Math and Mission. Even now I fondly remember how the Ramakrishna Math and Mission created the Sarada Math and Mission. Even now when I mention Ramakrishna Math and Mission, I say our Ramakrishna Math and our Ramakrishna Mission; for it was they who made the Sarada Math possible. That was their mission, Swamiji’s special message to them. That is why you find me here today instead of in Jayrambati.
So much has been discussed for a whole year! I do not know if anything is left untold or unheard. The book Janmajanmantarer Ma was released on 16 December, when the celebration was going on in Sarada Math. You will be surprised to know that we were doubtful that we would be able to sell even 2000 copies. But before one fortnight had passed, every copy was taken. What made it happen? Mother is obviously coming to the forefront.

Who am I to talk about Mother? This is not the time for speech making; today is the time to offer pushpanjali and pranamanjali to Thakur, Ma and Swamiji, and of course, my special pranams to Ma Jagaddhatri during this her first puja in Delhi. So recalling one or two incidents should be more than enough for today.

Somebody asked Mother, ‘There are very poor people who cannot afford to travel to Varanasi or any such holy place. How can they gain the merit which others visiting those places obtain?’ And what was Mother’s reply? She said, ‘They can gain the same merit by visiting Dakshineswar or Belur Math, provided they have such genuine faith! He for whom one visits Varanasi is present at Dakshineswar and Belur Math.’ That is one thing I remember.

Once Mother was asked, ‘Well, people call you the antaryamin; are you really so?’ She smiled a little and said, ‘They say so out of devotion.’ Mother specially taught us, again and again, to be humble, to be prayerful, and to always remember the goal of our human birth. She did not take this role upon herself. Sri Ramakrishna had told her more than once, ‘Well, my dear, won’t you do anything? Should I do everything single-handed? Is this only my responsibility? It is yours too. What, after all, have I done? You will have to do much more.’ And that is true. Swami Gambhi­ranandaji wrote the authentic biography, Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi, on the occasion of Mother’s birth centenary. But now, fifty years later, if another biography were to be written, several chapters will have to be added to that book. Since then many more incidents have come to light. But then, as I said, this is not the time for a long speech.

I can only reminisce about what I have heard from the disciples of Holy Mother. Swami Madhavanandaji was then President of the Order and giving initiation. He once got a letter from a person seeking diksha. The candidate thought it his duty to describe his past life to his guru. He had led a miserable life. So Pramathanandaji, Madhavanandaji’s secretary, said to him, ‘Shall I ask him to come? You had better interview him.’ Madhavanandaji replied, ‘What! Did Holy Mother interview me before she initiated me? Had she done that, I would probably not have been blessed with initiation.’ That was their attitude; they were never discriminating.

As I told you in the beginning, Mother is coming to the forefront; we have entered the Sarada age. And here in Delhi, you have invited Sarada Math to your celebration of Mother’s 150th birth anniversary. For this I am grateful to all of you, and I take it to be your way of honouring Swamiji’s words: ‘Mother has been born to revive that wonderful Shakti in India; hence it is her Math that I want first. We must first build a Math for Mother. First Mother and Mother’s daughters, then Father and Father’s sons. In this terrible winter I am lecturing from place to place and fighting against odds, so that funds may be collected for Mother’s Math. I shall be relieved when you will have pur­chased a plot of land and establish there the living Durga, the Mother.’ Although Swamiji did not live long enough to realize his dream, it is but natural that the wish of a person like Swamiji can never go in vain. It did come about and everything was done by the Ramakrishna Math and Mission.


Guiding Wisdom and Insight


There are many related incidents; I will mention only two. First, when the land for Belur Math was purchased, is it not strange that Sarada Devi was asked to do the first puja of Sri Ramakrishna in that old Math building at Belur? Why? She was not a sannyasini, nor had she performed Viraja Homa; she had rarely been seen doing puja in public. Even while giving initiation she always pointed to Sri Ramakrishna and said to the disciple, ‘He is your guru.’ If anybody asked, ‘So who are you then?’ she would just say, ‘I am your mother.’ She always assumed the role of the mother. Anyhow, why was Holy Mother invited to perform that first puja?

Second, Master Mahashay had then finished writing the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna. But he was hesitant about publishing it. Girish Ghosh asked him the reason for it, because many in his place would not have said no. He said, ‘You may get it after my death.’ Something seemed to work inside him. He thought it was better to read out part of the Gospel to Holy Mother, and he did it. What was Mother’s response? She said, ‘You need not be afraid to publish them. It was the Master who left these words in your keeping. Now he is bringing them out according to the needs of the time. You should know that people’s spiritual consciousness will not be awakened unless these words see the light of day.’ So, even for publishing the Gospel they needed Mother’s permission.

Again, when Swamiji was thinking of going to the West, Sri Ramakrishna had appeared to him in a symbolic dream, indicating that he should go. Still Swamiji thought of informing Mother. Mother took some time, but ultimately consented. When you hear this now, in 2004, it may not appear to be important, significant or surprising at all. But at that time, for any good Hindu to cross the ocean was a sin, not to speak of a sannyasin. So Swamiji needed Mother’s permission. What idea could Mother have had about the West or where America was? But she took a little time and sent him her consent and blessings.

In 1898 there was, as you know, a plague epidemic in Calcutta. Swamiji came down from Darjeeling. When sufficient funds for relief work were not forthcoming, he said, ‘We shall sell the newly bought Math ground at Belur, if necessary! We are sannyasins; we must be ready to sleep under the trees and live on daily bhiksha as we did before. What! Should we care for Belur Math and possessions when by disposing of them we could relieve thousands suffering before our eyes!’ Swamiji’s gurubhais did not know how to stop him. Swami Shivananda suggested, ‘Won’t you take Mother’s permission?’ At this, Swamiji said, ‘You have spoken correctly, Tarakda. I shall go this moment to get her permission.’ And he went to Mother and, in his own forceful, appealing way, told her, ‘Mother, there is no money to serve the plague victims. So I have thought of selling the Math property and using the money to continue our relief work. We are, after all, sadhus. We can pass our days living under a tree. We seek your permission.’ What was Holy Mother’s response? She said, ‘No, my son, you cannot sell the Math. It does not belong to you. It belongs to Thakur.’ Holy Mother Sarada Devi said that she, who had not received even elementary education, in the modern sense of the word! As she saw it, one relief operation could not be allowed to exhaust the potentialities of Belur Math, and the entire struggle that had gone into bringing it into existence; Belur Math’s mission was meant to cover the whole world, for a long period of time.

Adjusting to the modern age in a positive way, Swamiji himself had proclaimed that this was the time when Vedanta had to be preached to all and that Belur Math would have to do it - and Belur Math opened the Sarada Math. Why? As I said before, that was Swamiji’s special order to the future sannyasins of Belur Math. And today I express my gratitude to them. I have come here. I feel that all the respect, all the attention that is being shown to me is, in fact, being shown to Sri Sarada Devi. I have not come here to sit and speak before you as the President of Sri Sarada Math; that idea is not in me as I utter these words. I have come as a very humble servant of the Ramakrishna Sangha, which includes the Sarada Sangha. Swamiji himself thought so. Therefore I request you to go through the lives of Sri Ramakrishna and Sri Sarada Devi. Even Jogin Ma was assailed by doubt: she had seen the Master as a man of extreme renunciation, but found Mother so worldly-minded! Day and night she was occupied with her brothers, nephews and nieces. Of course Jogin Ma was fond of Mother, she had great regard and respect for her; and Mother also depended on Jogin Ma. Nevertheless, Jogin Ma had this doubt. Then, one day, as she was sitting on the banks of the Ganga trying to meditate, Sri Ramakrishna appeared to her in a vision and said, ‘Look at the Ganga. Dirty things are floating on it, but can the Ganga be polluted at any time? Think of her [Sarada Devi] also in that way. Do not entertain these doubts. Know her and me as identical.’

That is what I have learnt from Holy Mother’s disciples. And I am happy that you made me express my real, deep sentiments about Mother in front of you all. Just now, I am looking at you as sons and daughters of Sri Sarada Devi; I forget that many of you are very distinguished citizens of Delhi. I do not know who you are, but I know you have come here to join me in my prayers, in my pranamanjali. I repeat, today is not a day for speech making; it is a time for pranamanjali and pushpanjali. So please join me and let us pray. Holy Mother taught us especially how to pray and what to pray for. Once she said to Nalini Didi, ‘Please pray with me to the Master so that he may completely wipe away from my mind all trace of ego.’ As we have already seen, Jogin Ma was told by Sri Ramakrishna to look upon him and Holy Mother as one and the same. Sri Ramakrishna persuaded Sarada Devi to take up the responsibility of spreading his message and continue his mission. I remember what Swami Bhuteshanandaji once said. Somebody asked, ‘How should we think of Holy Mother?’ He said, ‘We must learn from her how to pray, how to be humble, how to bow down before God. Holy Mother has taught us especially to be prayerful, to be humble, and nothing else.’
Now let us pray: ‘Ma, make us your worthy children. Make us your worthy sons and daughters.’ India is in great need of such people. I am not a very learned person, I am not a scholar; but since my childhood I have learnt certain things, picked up some sentiments from the very venerable swamis of the Order who made me aware of the requirements of our times. India has never been in lack of prophets or learned and religious persons. But in the modern age, all their ideas and teachings have been expressed by and have been given to us through Sri Ramakrishna and Sri Sarada Devi. As I was looking at Holy Mother’s picture in the temple just a few minutes ago, it occurred to me that what we need most today is the example of a true mother. That is very important. So let us pray that the worthy sons and daughters of today’s India may become worthy fathers and mothers of tomorrow. That is what is necessary-good parents; good homes are what our children need today, in addition to good ideals. Lastly, they must know the value of human birth. If they lose this opportunity, where is the guarantee that they will be reborn once again as human beings? The supreme goal before us is God realization. Only in this human birth can we have God realization. Let us never forget that.

Sri Sarada Math shrine

http://www.srisaradamath.org/Sri_Sarada_Math.swf


Just as a devotee's heart yearns for God, so also does the Lord long for his pure- souled disciples. - Sri Ramakrishna.

"There was no limit ", Sri Ramakrishna once declared, ' to the longing I felt at that time. During the day time I somehow managed to control it. I would look wistfully to the day when my own beloved companions would come. I hoped to find solace in conversing with them and relating to them my own realizations. When the day would come to close I would not be able to curb my feelings. The thought that another day had gone and they had not come, oppressed me. When, during the evening service, the temples rang with the sound of bells and conch-shells, I would climb to the roof of the Kuthi in the garden and writhing in anguish of heart, cry at the top of my voice:' Come, my children! Oh, where are you? I can not bear to live without you'. Oh, it was indescribable! Shortly after this period of yearning the devotees began to come'.


Sri Sarada Devi is the Mother of men and not their Judge. For, to judge is human, but to love, forgetting all shortcomings, is Divine.

In the account of Holy Mother's Spiritual Ministry a detailed account has been given of how all who sought her blessings obtained it, though it meant sufferings to her. The holy essence in her was highly sensitive to the repulsive aura of sinful people, which to, put it in her own words, she felt like "the sting of a wasp". In fact she was very conscious of the fact that the Master and herself, who was a part and parcel of His Divine manifestation, came to suffer vicariously for the sins of those who took shelter in them. When, during her last illness, some one remarked that her physical sufferings were due to unholy contacts and that after recovery, she should be completely protected from these, she remarked, ' Why do you say so ? Do you think that the Master only came to take Rasagullas?'. She meant that the purpose of the Master's and her lives was not to attain anything for themselves, but to sacrifice themselves for the enlightenment and salvation of others.


Sinners are potential saints. - Swami Vivekananda

Swamiji held Pavhari Baba in high esteem. He knew the yogi personality. While in Gazipur, Swamiji heard that once a thief entered Baba's hut to rob him of his few belongings. As the thief was about to leave the place with the stolen goods, the yogi woke up. This frightened the thief and he threw down everything and started running away. Pavhari Baba promptly picked up the things and followed the thief. Finally, after a hot chase, he caught the thief and begged him to accept the goods.' All these are yours, Narayana', Baba told the thief, who stared at him in disbelief.
Years after during Swamiji's wanderings in the Himalayas Swamiji one day noticed a sadhu of luminous appearance. After some conversation Swamiji became convinced that the sadhu was of a high order. But he was astonished when the latter said,' I was that thief who attempted to steal from the saint!' The monk continued his confession: 'When Pavhari Baba handed me everything that belonged to him with a smile and addressed me as "Narayana", I realized what a crime I had committed and how mean I was! From that moment I gave up my evil pursuit of material wealth and engaged myself in search for spiritual wealth.' His story deeply impressed Swamiji who later used to say : Sinners are potential saints.