| In the Company of My
Lord - 8 |
 |
By Ma Gurupriya
[Published in Vicharasetu – August
1991. The author Ma Gurupriya was then ‘Ratnadeepa’]
Growing
Fondness for the ‘Ever-Pure Child’
Walking on the path of
spirituality, when a seeker faces a closed gate and knows
not how to open it and walk further, who else than his Guru
is there to open the gate for him and help him cross the
barrier? I too was led to the next phase of my spiritual
journey by my Guru’s grace. He gave me the awareness that
a great harmony lies beneath all the opposites in the world
and taught me the art of moderation. While these two lessons
were unfolding their deeper truths and subtleties in my
mind, the obsession regarding motherhood and its denial
gradually faded away. In its place, my Lord now started
feeding me with a sweet vaatsalya-rasa (nectar of parental fondness).
The vaatsalya-rasa
emerged as my Lord was taking seat in my mind in the form of the
‘little’ but ‘great’ Lord of Vrindaavana.
I was finding intense
delight in reading Sreemad Bhaagavatam, the part (10th
skandha) depicting the stories and glory of the ‘little
one’. I could visualize the crawling child, his soft
tender lips wearing the enchanting smile, his body decorated
with flowers and ornaments and a peacock feather on his
forehead. I could vividly see the scenes of Vrindaavana,
experiencing the emotions generated in each event and
episode.
It was as if I was
present in Vrindaavana. As I read on, I identified myself
with little Gopala the tender child, with Yashoda the loving mother, and with the Gopa-boys and Gopikaas who
loved Krishna and had surrendered themselves completely to
him. Bliss started pouring into my being making it very soft
and supple, overwhelming me with a unique experience of joy
and love.
I would narrate the
stories to Aroopji and sometimes would read out to him the
portions that were immensely sublimating or exhilarating.
Soon it became a regular session. Aroopji, after returning
from the Institute, would eagerly ask: “Don’t you have
anything to read out today?” If somehow there came a gap
of two-three days in my narration, he would say: “Oh! So
many days have passed; you have not told me anything about
Krishna.” He used to sit in front like a small child and
shed tears profusely whenever the text had anything sublime
and noble, depicting wholesome devotion, surrender or
sacrifice.
We fell in love with
this little lad of Vrindaavana. We would speak of his
innocence, his words and actions, his mischief, and
specially, the spiritual truth underlying each episode.
I have always been fond
of children. The touch of their soft limbs, their actions,
lisping and above all, their innocence has always given me
immense delight. Now this delight started getting associated
with the ‘ever-pure child’. Looking at children, I could
not but think of Him. His nectarine smile adorning the
cheerful, bright face used to infuse in me a kind of purity,
as if I had taken internal bath in clear cool water.
Not
Child but ‘Motherhood’
While such an emotion
was growing in my mind, an opportunity came to meet Swamiji
again. It was during a Jńaana Yajńa in Delhi. We went to
meet him in Mr. N.R.Subramanian’s house in Hauz-Khas. We
prostrated and took our seat in the hall where many devotees
had already assembled. Little later, Swamiji called us to
his room and enquired about my mind, its state. I narrated
everything – the transformation that I was passing
through, the growing change in my attitude, the dawning of
clarity and understanding.
After some time I asked:
“Swamiji, regarding motherhood, you had advised me to wait
till my mind became strong enough. How am I to know whether
the mind has become strong?” Swamiji sat silently for a
while, deeply absorbed, and then spoke: “I think you
should choose not to have a child at all. That will be good
for you.”
Neither Aroopji nor
myself asked Swamiji ‘why’ he had said this.
Unquestioningly we accepted his words. Later, when parents,
relatives and friends came to know of the decision, many
were surprised. Some felt our decision was absolutely
foolish. A few remarked: “Your Swamiji is a Sannyasin. How
will he know what it is for a woman to remain childless?”
A few others pleaded with us to request Swamiji to “amend
his verdict”!
Our reply to all was:
“A Guru knows what is best for his disciples. Our vision
is short-ranged; we run after happiness brought forth by
immediate gains. But a Jńaani’s vision is far reaching;
he knows what is Supreme good. If Swamiji has felt that not
having a child will be good for us, it must surely be so. We
shall act according to his advice.” There was no doubt or
second thought in our minds.
But, apart from
unquestioning acceptance, what was my reaction hearing
Swamiji’s words? Was I surprised or depressed? I felt very
free suddenly – freed from a great bondage! As if a big
load had been taken away. I felt liberated from the craving
for a child.
Still I said:
“Swamiji, I fully accept what you say. At this moment I
feel light and free, and think this to be a blessing. But
what shall I feel after ten years, I am wondering. Shall I
repent or have any sense of deprivation?” Swamiji laughed:
“You will be absolutely alright; perhaps, much better than
what you can think of now.”
Exactly ten years later
while I write this narration, I find how his words have come
true! I offer all my gratitude to his lotus feet for giving
me such a boon. Making me miss a child, he has blessed me
with a greater motherhood, with a greater love – selfless
– that enables me to embrace all children alike; as if
they are my very own. His blessing has gifted me a love
which is non-possessive and spontaneous, which arises from
the core of my heart. This love enfolds not only the
children but people of all ages, not only the human beings
but also animals.
Now I understand, what a
woman really needs is not a child but ‘motherhood’.
All-Pervading
‘Poshaa’
The effect of meeting
Swamiji in Delhi reinforced the transformation I was
undergoing. Slowly my ‘pet’ – actually I started
calling him ‘Poshaa’ (the pet) much later – was taking shape in my mind. My Lord made
me realize that this small child who resides in my mind and
heart, never leaves me. He is constantly present there
waiting to be called, to be talked to, to be shown affection
to, and even to be chided. He is there to console me,
greeting me with his characteristic smile, saying: “Here I
am, Mother, don’t be afraid!”
This loving ‘little
one’ stole my heart completely. I craved for the touch of
his purity always. I found his purity and innocence best
manifest in children. Even the ugliest and the tiniest baby,
be it human or animal or insect, generated in me a vaatsalya, a tender fondness. In their movements and gestures I found my Poshaa playing and
dancing; in their eyes I saw the innocent but meaningful
glances of Poshaa – wanting to
tell me so many things, or waiting quietly for my love!
My dislike towards
animals and insects got dissolved. I started talking to them
lispingly. To frogs and lizards, especially the young ones,
I would say: “Oh! You too are so beautiful! I never
knew.” Fear and repulsion towards frogs and cats got
transformed into love and interest; they started
communicating to me so many things about themselves! To big
spiders, which I am generally scared of, I would say: “Poshaa, why do you
dress like this and come to frighten me?” Whenever I
thought of snakes, I would tell Poshaa: “Please
don’t come near me in your ‘snake-moorti’! Don’t you
know that I get scared?”
Over the years, this
love and closeness have grown not only with animals and
insects, but with all creatures – the trees, buds and
flowers, and even with so called insentient objects. When I
see a book with pages torn, or a vessel with a dent, I tell
them lovingly: “Who has done this to you, my dear?” I
can feel their craving for care and attention. In my
closeness with all of them – sentient or insentient – I
experience a unique joy, a feeling of something melting in
my heart. And in all these interactions, only one face comes
to my mind – that is my Poshaa’s.
While Poshaa was seating
himself firmly in my heart, a very sweet relationship
started growing amongst the three of us – Aroopji, Poshaa
and myself. With Aroopji, my relationship is very special
and unique. We are greatest of friends, full of love,
cooperation and understanding. As seekers, we are
co-travelers too on the path of spirituality. But besides
all these, we are a mother and a child.
When others are not
there, Aroopji behaves and talks to me in a childlike
manner. With Poshaa stealing my lap,
Aroopji accepted him very lovingly as his younger brother
and started referring to himself as ‘Poshaar daadaa’ (Poshaa's elder brother). He would listen to Krishna’s story, imitate him
and dance. Listening to Krishna’s mischief, he would say:
“Your Poshaa is all naughty
and mischievous. Daadaa
is not like that.” Listening to Krishna’s words of
wisdom or acts of valour, he would say: “ Oh! Poshaa
has so much of strength and intelligence!” Sometimes, when
I happened to be too absorbed in my work, he would say:
“Come Poshaa, this mother doesn’t even look at us, neither does she care
about what we play. Come, let us find another mother.”
Thus, Poshaa became very much
a living entity in our life.
As these emotions were
enriching my mind, my Lord gave me opportunities to come in
closest contact with children – human as well as animal;
perhaps to teach me about them and myself, about how to
handle their mind and behaviour. In the process He made me
grow with qualities like patience, endurance, alertness,
sympathy and sacrifice. Through all those interactions, he
blessed me with one realization: there is only one thing by
which everything and everybody can be owned, and that is
‘Love’.
Love can be of two kinds: one that binds and makes us constricted; and
the other – selfless, non-expectant and pure – that
makes us expand, enabling us to embrace everybody as our
own. My Lord revealed to me that the ordinary love, when
turned towards Him, transforms itself into the greater one,
making us grow and expand, finally merging into the Lord’s
eternal vastness.
* * *
