| In the Company of My
Lord - 7 |
 |
By Ma Gurupriya
[Published in Vicharasetu – July
1991. The author Ma Gurupriya was then ‘Ratnadeepa’]
In
the Lap of Nature
Nature with its
abundant beauty has always attracted me and given me immense
joy. When I was four years old, my father got posted in
Nepal. I remember the snow-clad Himalayan range shining at a
distance, the hilly fields and pear tree in front of our
house where shepherds used to bring their cattle. My memory
has faded, but still I can see and feel the little girl
roaming around the whole day in the midst of Nature’s
bounty, talking to herself and the plants, collecting
sticks, picking up fruits or simply watching the sheep.
Before my father got
posted in Delhi, the few years of early childhood I spent in
Calcutta, I had the fortune to be in the lap of Nature. Even
now, a hot summer afternoon suddenly carries me to the place
– a country side with open fields, a variety of trees and
a huge pond just in front of our house; the pond where we
the children of our big joint family learnt swimming,
holding on to floating plantain trunks. The mango tree that
stood alone on one side of the pond had always impressed me
by its shape and shade.
The place which
attracted me most and I longed to visit was Banipur in 24
Parganas District of West Bengal, where lived my father’s
eldest brother, who was the principal of Basic Training
College there. Even as children we were enchanted by the
serene atmosphere of the educational institution, its huge
campus with shady trees, fragrant flowers and paddy fields,
frequented by various kinds of birds. It was like a tapovanam.
As I grew up, I came to
know that these Basic Training Colleges were founded after
the ideals of Mahatma Gandhi. Life there was very peaceful,
calm and simple. There was a harmony with Nature, a
heartiness and liveliness in people. Later on I realized, it
was the deep overpowering silence of the place that had left
a subtle blissful impression on my young mind, making me a
lover of Nature, its beauty and vastness.
I do not remember from
when I associated my Lord with Nature. But a time came,
unaware, when in the vast sky I started seeing His
entrancing smile; the gentle breeze made me feel His soft
touch; the falling raindrops and the whispering leaves
carried to me His mellow voice.
And all these grew fast
when I started liking and understanding Tagore’s songs.
How deep, sublimating and enriching those songs are! There
seems to be no emotion that the great poet has not put into
his compositions; and mostly they are addressed to the Lord
– the Creator and the indweller. He has associated the
Lord in happiness as well as in sorrow, in all activities as
well as in quietude, bringing Him always to the very centre
of the heart. These songs gradually became a part of my
being. I sang for my own sake pouring out myself, placing
the bouquet of emotions at the feet of my Lord.
The
Harmony Beyond Contradictions
But, all these years, I
had been finding beauty, bliss and harmony only in the
sweet, agreeable or pleasant aspects of Nature. The
wonderful, comprehensive truth and harmony permeating the
vast Creation through all its contradictory notes were
simply overlooked. Did I ever feel that the Creator is
present in everything of the Creation? Did I ever look at
ugliness thinking that my Lord’s beauty included this too
equally?
I relished His smile in
the murmuring ripples of a placid, clear lake; but did I
feel His presence in the slush of a drain? Did I reflect
well that the stars shine beautifully only against the
background of pitch darkness? I realized, I had associated
my Lord – His smile, touch and voice – only where Nature
appeared pleasant to my mind and senses. And in doing so I
had missed the truth of existence, the grand harmony of
Nature, which shines only in the presence of all opposites.
In his first letter to
me, Swamiji had introduced the concept of nirdvandvatva.
I started understanding this concept deeper and deeper
everyday through my interactions and experiences in the
world, gaining clarity and confidence. What was my attitude
towards the world – my expectations from it?
I desired to be happy
always – to have constant bliss and enthusiasm. I missed
the fact that happiness and unhappiness are indispensable
complements that make the existence of either possible. A
man experiences enthusiasm only as contrast to boredom. We
crave for silence and quietude only because we are bothered
by activity.
Moderation
– A Great Lesson
In one of his letters
Swamiji wrote to me: “… Constant bliss cannot be had so
easily. Have aananda now and then, progressively, and that
will be adequate for you. Aim at a sense of moderation in
every walk of life – in attaining purity, in giving
concession to impurity, in getting nearer to God, in taking
to the world, in accepting loneliness. In short, in
everything that concerns you – BE MODERATE. Let there be
some wrong in you – what of that? Let some confusion also
be there; not an excess of it, of course!
“ In this way, you
will start accepting
yourself as you are, nevertheless trying
patiently for improvement.”
What a great
illumination! Did I ever look at life with this attitude? As
I followed the advice, the secret of samatva (equal vision) started unfolding before me. I found myself becoming
more and more light hearted towards events and situations,
trying to accept equally – both good and bad, pleasant and
unpleasant. Spells of disinterestedness did remain,
alternated with enthusiastic days. The sense of deprivation
of motherhood also frequented, though with reduced
intensity. But, behind all these alternating moods, there
was a growing acceptance and evenness towards everything.
Whenever confronted
with depression, I used to remember Swamiji’s words:
“Suppose you have a little depression or disinterestedness
today – what of that? Let it remain. Be at home even with
that. Know that as it has come in so also will it pass off.
If you keep this elevated attitude, soon you will find that
the depressive moods will become less frequent. Even if they
appear, they will not bother you much or for long.”
Already the mind had
started craving for constant inwardness. To some extent, it
had succeeded too. At least I was aware of its wondering and
also alert to bring it back to the center. Earlier, whenever
the mind failed to remain quiet and sublime, whenever it
would stray away to petty matters, I used to feel hopeless
and depressed seeing my failure and imperfections. Now, the
lesson in moderation started helping me. I learnt not to
hold on to any idea rigidly, but to become flexible, to
accept my imperfect self with detachment while spontaneously
making effort for improvement and progress.
This pilgrimage to
flexibility, moderation and acceptance, brought in me a new
kind of lightness, cheerfulness and optimism, a new kind of
detached enthusiasm in all my activities and interactions.
In my notebook I used to pour out my heart telling about my
success, failure and my consequent prayers. I would call out
to my Lord again and again to lift me above all
insufficiencies, to widen my outlook, to make me pure in
thoughts and behaviour. Every time, I would add at the end:
“ Above all, O Lord, give me Your Company, always.”
I have found that keeping
a diary has great benefits for a spiritual seeker. Not
only the writings provide a vivid picture of the seekers
growth, the very effort to express ones mind openly
constitutes an effective saadhana in itself. For this,
of course, one must be able to face bravely, accept humbly
and record freely all the thoughts and emotions prevailing
in the mind. As we like to see the good emotions in us, so
me must, without resistance, look straight into the unwanted
traits too. And
once detected, we must record them truthfully as they are,
instead of trying to escape or justify oneself finding
various excuses.
To be open before
oneself is to be open before God. To do that, the seeker has
to transcend his ego. When pursued sincerely the process
bestows lightness, depth, clarity, power of truth, and above
all, confidence.
* * *
