| In the Company of My
Lord - 1 |
 |
By Ma Gurupriya
[Published
in Vicharasetu – September 1990. The author Ma Gurupriya
was then ‘Ratnadeepa’]
Soon
after the morning programme at the outer shrine, I entered
the pooja-room inside, with the basket of flowers.
This is the room where Mataji used to do pooja. A very quiet
and serene place – blissful too. In this room, at one
corner stands Krishna, the Gopala
Choodaamani, an idol made of clay. Blue in color,
with both hands placed at the hips, eyes twinkling and lips
wearing a sweet enquiring smile – a ‘nayana-manohara
moorti’ indeed! And how happy one feels looking at him
– will he start talking, one may wonder!
I
have a habit of talking to the Lord in my mind; and in doing
so I feel Him so close to my heart! Holding the basket in
hand, I asked: “ O my ‘pet’ (this is the nick-name by
which I call my Lord! Actually I call Him ‘poshaa’
which, in Bengali, means ‘the pet’), which flower do you
want me to offer today and where? Shall I place it at your
feet?”
My
heart felt that he did not want it at his feet, but right on
his head, close to the peacock-feather; he wanted me to
decorate him. I chose two hibiscus petals – light pink
with dark red tinge at the centre – and placed them
symmetrically on his head. He was not satisfied and wanted
me to place more. One after another I placed six petals
beautifully, but the ‘little one’ was pointing at the
basket insisting on a bunch of tulasi too. I did so and
exclaimed, “Oh! You look beautiful”, only to find that
with swollen lips he was asking for something more – not
petals, but a whole flower, to be put over the tulasi bunch.
I
searched and could find none. So I said: “ Stop now. Let
me offer flowers to others. Don’t you know I have enough
work waiting for me? How long can I play with you?” I
diverted my attention to other pictures and idols. And lo,
while offering flowers to Guruvayurappan, suddenly I found a
small white flower in the basket. Immediately I knew that my
‘tender one’ was weeping for this all along! I placed
the flower beautifully on the tulasi bunch and smiled. “Oh
naughty one! You know how to get your wish fulfilled. Yes,
now you look extremely beautiful.” He kept his hands
firmly on the hips and replied: “ Did I not tell you?”
“Let
me call your Sankarnarayandada (dada means elder
brother)”, I murmured, “and show him how you have
decorated yourself with the flowers he chose so lovingly
from the garden. He will feel happy; wouldn’t he?”
I
went out to call Sankarnarayan – one of our inmates, a
young man, humble, devoted and pious. I called Tulasidas
also – a young boy, a local resident. Tulasidas has been
coming to the Ashram for the last one year, everyday. He
comes punctually at 6:30 AM and leaves by 7:30 AM to go for
his work, to a tyre-moulding shop. Sundays and holidays he
spends in the Ashram. A very pleasing boy. Seeing his
readiness to serve, Swamiji lovingly calls him ‘Hanumaan’.
He is an unquestioning bhakta. We feel happy and delighted
to see his sincerity and urge to learn.
Both
Sankarnarayan and Tulasi felt immensely delighted seeing
this Krishna. I narrated to them how it happened – my
conversation with my ‘beloved child’ and his loving
insistence. Sankarnarayan gazed in awe – “This is bhakti,
isn’t it?” Tulasidas, who could not follow fully what I
had been talking (he does not know English well enough),
wanted Sankarnarayan to translate in Malayalam. His eyes too
became shining, the smile radiated purity, as he listened to
the narration. I wondered whether it touched their minds and
hearts!
In
Tune with Nature
I
was telling them how, when I roamed about in the garden,
this Krishna would some times draw my attention to a
particular flower and beg and plead to have it. Some days I
give; some other days I scold him saying: “ Don’t you
see how nice the flower is in its mother’s lap? Why do you
want to snatch it?”
Immediately
I would remember the song by Kazi Nazrul Islam – the
famous Bengali poet. Looking at the red hibiscus offered at
Kali’s feet, the poet sings: “By what great saadhana, O
flower, you have attained the Mother’s lotus feet? …”
Yes, it is true. When the flower basket comes close to the
flowering plants, the flowers start whispering: “Take me,
take me and offer at the Lord’s lotus-feet!” As if they
are born for that purpose.
I
called Aroopji (now Swami Nirviseshananda Tirtha – ed.)
and Swamiji and narrated everything all over again. Swamiji
said: “This is real bhakti. It should be like this.”
Then he turned to Aroopji and asked: “Don’t you have any
such feelings?” He said, “Yes”. I joined in
affirmation. Both of us have similar feelings and emotions
in this respect. Swamiji said: “You should write all
these.” Then he continued: “ … For you, it is in
placing flowers, but for me it is in all work that I take
up, right from constructing buildings or furniture.”
I
nodded enthusiastically and said: “Long back, I had read
in one of the conversations of The Mother of Sri Aurobindo
Ashram that even furniture have feelings; if they are not
looked after properly, they sigh. That had inspired us to
look after them, the so-called insentient beings, also. And
later we found that they too call out for love and care.”
Swamiji
had moved to his table in the front verandah. He wanted to
reply a few letters. I asked: “Swamiji, do you know when
we praise a flower, its beauty, the flower becomes extremely
happy? It can be seen!”
-
“
No, I never knew about it”
-
“Yes,
” Aroopji said, “ they feel happy and proud and
stretch out their petals in response."
-
“
Is it! You should show it to me one day. All of us will
come.”
I
have always loved Nature, and this love had grown quietly
through numerous songs of Rabindranath Tagore – especially
the songs on Pooja and Prakriti. This dormant love blossomed
forth while I was in Kharagpur. Life in Kharagpur IIT campus
brought me closer to Nature – very close and intimate. The
open fields and the distant horizon, the sky, the clouds and
the seasons, the rains and norwesters, the huge shady trees
and the fragrant flowers, the butterflies, birds, squirrels
and other animals – everything brought the unseen Creator
close to my heart, purifying me, sublimating me with the
touch of His vastness and beauty.
On
one hand, He was this vastness, this infinitude, and on the
other He was a ‘dear little child’ playing and talking
to me.
My
Pet from the Himalayas
Before
we went to Amarnath in 1982, I had a desire to bring a Sivalinga
from there. But when we reached Amarnath, I was so full with
my experience and so miserable with cold that I forgot
everything else.
While
coming down, Aroopji asked me – “What about your Sivalinga?”
Then he took out from his pocket an oval stone he had picked
up from Amarganga – the ice-cold stream flowing down from
the cave. He told me that initially he had taken another
stone, but immediately his attention was drawn to this one;
peeping out from water it was whispering: “Take me, take
me please!” The stone that was greenish white at Amarnath
turned almost black at the valley.
We
brought it home and somehow managed to keep it erect by
giving a support. This was our Sivalinga.
Soon we found, it had all the lakshanas
(features) of a Narayana-sila.
I
would give it abhisheka
with water and put candana-tilakam.
Those days we were in Kolkata and I was teaching in a
college. I had little time in the morning and had not grown
so much love for spending more time doing pooja. Now with
the arrival of the Sivalinga, slowly I started growing
interest. On a small stool in one corner of the room, I
placed Baba’s and Swamiji’s photos – and also the
Sivalinga. I started liking spending some time there
regularly. Till then I was not regular in my devotional
practices.
Belur
Math and Copper Vessels
It
was then that once, when we visited Belur Math, as we
entered the big prayer hall and walked up to the idol of Sri
Ramakrishna Dev, I was wonder-struck seeing something near
his feet. It was a big copper vessel. The vessel was cleaned
so well that it was shining with a pink lustre. And at the
centre of it, there was a big red hibiscus. It was such a
pure sight! Purity was radiating from the bowl as well as
the flower. Not only purity, it was bliss too. I bought a
copper bowl – a smaller one – from Dakshineshwar and
came home.
Next
day I cleaned that vessel, made it shine spotlessly and
placed it on the pooja aasana. We had no hibiscus; not even
other flowers to place there.
Seeing
my interest my mother gave me a copper-pot which she had
brought from Vrindavan and a brass plate which my
grandmother had brought from Varanasi long ago. All these I
started cleaning and shining everyday before offering abhisheka
to the Sivalinga. This became an important part of my
spiritual practice, and gradually I started growing a deep
fondness for it.
While
cleaning the vessels I used to murmur in my mind what Sri
Ramakrishna had said: “Just as copper and brass vessels
become stained if not cleaned well everyday, the mind too
has to be cleaned everyday to keep it pure.” I would not
allow even a small stain on my vessels, and while doing so
would think – the mind also has to be cleaned so well. I
used to remember the words of Sarada Ma also; she used to
pray to god: “ Even moon has a little stain on it. Let not
my mind have even that.”
Harmony
through Flowers
On
Sundays, a lady used to bring marigold garlands to sell.
Those days I was able to place flowers on the copper plate.
I had seen in Sri Aurobindo Ashram (Pondicherry) how
beautifully the shrine used to be decorated with flowers.
The ladies who did this were able to bring out beautiful
designs effortlessly with whatever flowers were available. I
wondered, where from have they learnt this art, not knowing
that it comes from the heart. It comes as an offering. I too
wanted to make designs with flowers surrounding the
Sivalinga, but found myself a complete failure. However, I
kept on trying.
Very
soon, we moved to Kharagpur. And Lord, seeing my desire to
offer Him flowers, gifted me a garden. My joy knew no bounds
when first time I plucked a hibiscus and placed it on the
shining copper plate at the feet of the Sivalinga.
Aroopji and myself both gazed with awe – at the purity.
The same touch of purity we used to feel looking at dew
drops on white flowers, dew drops on soft grass blades.
This
was the time the Sivalinga started becoming a small Krishna
and both of us started calling it ‘Poshaa’
(The Bengali word for ‘pet’). I used to wrap white Mandaara
petals round his waist as if to make him wear a dhoti.
I would tell him: “ Put on a dhoti;
should you remain naked?” Gopala would dance and clap in
joy.
I
had not left my job in Calcutta till then and I used to come
to Kharagpur only during weekends and vacations. Once
Aroopji wrote to me: “Both of us feel lonely and miserable
– myself and your little child. He would not accept Mandaara-dhoti
from me – keeps on falling flat on the floor;
spreading his legs he cries and calls: “Come Mother,
come!”
That
weekend when I came and wrapped a petal around his waist he
did not fall but looked so happy and bright!
Very
soon I left my job and came away to Kharagpur. Swamiji had
told me to leave the
job and not to get employed again. He advised me to
utilize the time for saadhana, especially in reading Sreemad
Bhaagavatam. My saadhana of cleaning and shining pooja
vessels continued. By that time I had acquired a small brass
lamp which I used to clean spotlessly everyday and light.
The unwavering flame always reminded me of ‘aspiration’
– mind’s aspiration for God.
The
garden was full of flowers. I knew the growth of each plant
right from planting – the growth of each and every leaf,
each and every bud, and its blossoming. Early morning, after
bath, one of us used to pluck flowers for pooja. The flowers
that were decorating the trees, would try to jump into the
flower basket with a desire to be offered. While plucking,
the ‘little pet’ would point to different flowers and
say: “This one, this one”. One day, he started weeping
for grass-flowers – blue and yellow ones – since I would
not normally pluck those for pooja. Finally I did, and he
said: “Why? They might be mere grass-flowers but are they
not mine? Are they not equally pure and beautiful?”
Slowly
I discovered that my flower offering was also coming from my
heart effortlessly. Beautiful designs were made from
whatever flowers had been collected. The designs would get
formed spontaneously and be completed perfectly with the
last flower in the basket. As the flowers used to get
arranged by my hand, the mind also would get arranged and
become peaceful. I could feel a harmony, a purity. There
used to be a cool soothing feeling on the eyelids.
He
Grows in My Mind
The
Sivalinga was playing the role of Siva as well as Krishna.
To us, it had become a living entity. Whenever we would go
to Jamshedpur to my in-laws during pooja vacation, he would
come with us. He would cry bitterly if there was any thought
at all of leaving him behind. And wherever he went he was
liked by everybody; may be because of our love for ‘him’
– ‘he’ who was growing in our minds like a child
soaking the heart and mind with vaatsalya
(tenderness and affection).
In
moments of despair, despondency and disinterestedness, he
used to embrace me putting his hands round my neck trying to
console me. Sometimes I would stare and stare at the
‘stone’ and wonder: “Who are you really? How are you
able to generate this blissful
bhaava in my heart?”
Once
I thought I would make a silver snake for him to put on his
head. Aroopji did not like the idea. A few days later we
happened to visit Jamshedpur. My sister-in-law expressed
that for long she had a wish to offer a silver snake to our
‘pet’; she asked for our permission now. That very
evening, our ‘pet’ stood proudly decorated with the new
ornamental hood projecting over his head. With a victorious
smile he asked: “Am I not looking nice?”
“Beautiful!” I laughed at his cunningness and told him:
“ So, you really wanted to have a silver snake and also
knew very well how to get it!”
Now
I understand the role played by this ‘pet’ of mine in
making me regular in devotional practices, apart from
generating very subtle and sublime emotions in the heart
which had drawn me closer to the Indweller. If I was lazy
someday and was late in giving him bath, he would start
weeping. That would make me think: “I am lazy today, but
still I myself have taken bath; how can I then justify my
not giving bath to him!” If I were busy I would say to
myself: “Inspite of my busy schedule I have not forgone my
bath or food; how can I then skip his?” These emotions
helped me get out of tamas.
At
the same time, I felt so very near to this ‘dear one’
and developed such freedom that on the extremely busy days I
would somehow give him a bath, put a tilak on his forehead,
offer flowers and say: “Be satisfied with this. Don’t
you see how much work I have?” Or I would say: “No tilak
for you today. It serves you right for making me get up
late!”
The
Significant Transition
We
joined the Ashram in May 1987. The main reasons for our
coming away was (i) the persistent feeling of
purposelessness in pursuing the professional and household
life, (ii) the indispensable urge to pursue spirituality
exclusively, and (iii) to be in close association of the
Guru and to serve him. Especially, serving Swamiji, Mataji
and the Ashram became an urgent need too.
As
soon as we came, our hands were full with responsibilities.
For, that was the time Mataji’s health started
deteriorating and she was unable to look after the Ashram
affairs. Right from early hours of morning we remained busy
till late night except for a short rest in the afternoon. I
used to get tired, and however much I wished, could not get
up sufficiently early to give abhisheka to the ‘little
one’ and offer him flowers. Somehow I would take bath and
rush to the Ashram where all the domestic chores would be
waiting for me.
It
was no doubt painful initially not being able to look after
my dear ‘pet’! But within a few days he himself consoled
me and made me understand that one
phase of my saadhana was over.
One
day while I was cleaning the shrine, suddenly my eyes were
attracted to the Krishna idol there. With a charming smile
he was saying: “Am I different?” It resonated in my
heart. I understood and told my Gopala: “Oh! You are
satisfied being worshipped here! So, no need now for me to
do pooja for you separately; is it not so?”
This
is how a saadhaka lives and outlives the devotional
practices. At one time these are necessary, but with the
dawn of understanding, they become redundant too. My
‘pet’ revealed to me the truth of our relationship. He
did not bind me to his material form, but at the same time
he has not left me. He lives and moves with me always, my
closest companion; he remains in my heart. Even now, some of
the days he nods his head violently and pesters me to give
him ‘abhisheka’.
Those days I do. Some days, he would draw my attention to
some flower that whispers: “I have blossomed today for
your pet. Please take me to his feet.” Happily I bring
that flower to him.
God
and Guru Became One
Of
all the work I did, I liked my service to Swamiji –
cooking his food and serving, washing his utensils, making
his bed, looking after his clothes and dyeing them in ochre
whenever necessary, finding his misplaced spectacles and
pens a hundred times a day. I would stand and wait eagerly,
ready to be of any service whatsoever. We would be waiting
till Swamiji retired for rest, thinking – if he needs
something!
While
in Kharagpur, we were in close association with Swami
Nihsreyasananda Puri Maharaj of Kailash Ashram (Rishikesh),
and his disciples. Swamiji was brought from Uttarkasi to
Kharagpur by his disciples to enable them to look after his
deteriorating health. Seeing the untiring, devoted service
of a couple Pannadada and Shukladidi and also of a
Brahmacharin disciple Kasidada to their Guru, I often felt:
“Will I ever have an opportunity to serve my Guru like
this?” Immediately after coming to the Ashram when I got
the opportunity I thought it to be a rare fortune. Even now,
every moment I feel I am blessed.
On
one hand, the mind felt fortunate, and on the other,
ignorance made the same mind think: “Oh! I am not doing
pooja, japa or meditation; nor am I reading scriptures!” I
used to pester Swamiji with these doubts. One day Swamiji
remarked: “Suppose somebody is doing tapasyaa to reach
God. When he comes to Vaikuntha, will he again sit in
meditaton closing his eyes or will he now do service to the
Lord of Vaikuntha?”
This
was a revelation. Service to Swamiji which gave pleasure was
till then a service to a person whom I loved and adored.
Slowly and unknowingly the mind started taking a turn until
one day I had a realization.
It
was just before the Delhi Jnaana Yajna. Swamiji was to leave
for Delhi within two or three days. I had just recovered
from fever and was very weak. I wanted to dye a few sets of
clothes before he left. I had very little strength in me to
proceed with the dyeing, but still I started. I was getting
tired and was taking rest in between when suddenly this
realization dawned:
“Why
am I dyeing his clothes? I want him to look bright and
beautiful wearing newly dyed clothes, while he speaks from
the platform. Previously I was making my idol wear a
mandaara-dhoti, plucking a flower and decorating with my
hand. Now these hands are dyeing dhotis for a living Lord to
wear. Is it not exactly the same? I used to offer flowers,
and now am I not offering flowers in the form of service to
a living Lord?”
God
and Guru became one. I remained overwhelmed with this
realization.
I
tried to become more and more perfect in my service. It was
not easy. To serve an Idol, to offer flowers at its feet is
easy; because the idol will neither praise nor criticize.
But the living Lord, the Guru, will definitely try to
correct the disciple, make comments, give his views and also
admonish whenever necessary. The ego, the likes and
dislikes, and the surrender are put to test only then.
When
I told Swamiji of my experience, he said: “Isvara-bhakti
is rather easy, Guru-bhakti is much more difficult to
attain.”
* * *
