3. Childhood to Saṁnyāsa: The Spiritual Foundation

Sri Srinivasa Sastry, as Acharyal was known prior to His saṁnyāsa, was a helpful and considerate child. While other children of His age unconcernedly engaged themselves in play, He helped His mother. He performed various domestic chores, such as cleansing of vessels and sweeping. He often took care of His younger brother. When asked about this, He said, “My mother is busy in the kitchen and My elder sister is assisting her. Who will attend to this young one? If I do not do so, this task will add to my mother's strain.” He was a bright student who unhesitatingly spared time to clear the academic doubts of the students who sought His help.

Once, His friend did not fare well in the examinations. The boy's father resolved to punish his ward. So, he ordered his son to bend and placed a big stone on the lad's back. The boy deserved punishment but not to this extent. Unable to bear the load, he began weeping. Sri Srinivasa Sastry heard the piteous cries and arrived at the spot. Addressing the father, He said, “You are older than Me and wiser too. Your son is writhing in pain. Please let him rest for a while. You may place the stone on My back instead and I shall support it for him.” The father was moved by Sri Srinivasa Sastry's heartfelt concern and relieved his son of the burden imposed. He was always ready to put up with suffering for the sake of others.

One day, He and His friends unintentionally consumed a very pungent dish served to them at a house. The friends screamed for water and jaggery. Sri Srinivasa Sastry remained undisturbed. He advised His friends that such longing for jaggery was unnecessary. Their mouths were burning, as it were, and here He was adding fuel to the fire. “You speak thus,” they challenged, “Can you eat a handful of chillies without a murmur of protest?” “Yes,” was the reply. Immediately, a handful of chillies were brought. One by one the chillies disappeared into His mouth. The boys looked on, more astonished than disappointed. All the chillies were consumed without any trace of discomfort on His face. He then said, “It is not necessary to consume spices like this. You have demanded it and so I ate them to convince you that it is possible to be contented with what food one gets.”

He was ever uncomplaining. One day, His friends decided to test the limits of His forbearance. Fetching a stick, they began to beat Him with it. He bore their unprovoked onslaught without a murmur. When the boys stopped, aghast at how far they had gone in testing Him, He won their hearts with kind words. He also told them the following story:

A Buddhist monk was unjustly tortured by a monarch. The king finally softened and, feeling ashamed, begged the monk's pardon. As an act of atonement, he catered to the subsequent needs of the monk. Thus, merely by forbearance, the monk was able to humble the emperor. Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s friends hung their heads in shame on hearing the tale.

While personally forbearing, He had the inclination and the courage to intervene to terminate the suffering being inflicted on another. He once beheld a boy catching flying insects, tearing out their wings and throwing the hapless creatures to a dog. Walking up to the boy, He quickly grasped his hands and twisted them. The boy screamed. Relaxing His vice-like grip, Sri Srinivasa Sastry said, “The insects also must feel like this. Just as you have hands, the insects have wings. Abstain from torturing them hereafter.” He once had the following conversation with a friend:

Sri Srinivasa Sastry: Hunting of animals is improper.

Friend: Carnivorous animals prey on weaker creatures. Such being the case, they deserve to be killed.

Sri Srinivasa Sastry: God has created some animals as food for the carnivores. This does not entitle man to poke his nose into the ways of nature and indulge in slaughter.

He and His friends used to assemble after play and relate stories. He narrated stories from the Purāṇas, Mahābhārata and the Nīticintāmaṇi. When telling the story of Hariścandra, He stressed the importance of veracity and the advantages of being truthful. The dire consequences of attachment illustrated in the story of Jaḍabharata and the soul-stirring devotion of Prahlāda were aptly driven home by Him in some of His presentations.

There was a tank that His friends feared to approach after sunset as it was believed to be infested by ghosts. Sri Srinivasa Sastry had no such fear. In response to a challenge from His friends, He boldly ran to it on a dark amāvāsya evening, washed His hands and feet, rinsed His mouth and returned. On later being asked about His lack of fear, He said, “I was chanting the name of God. How could any evil spirit accost Me?”

One evening, on being asked what He would like to do when He grew up, He said that He would strive to realise God. When a friend asked Him why He opined thus, He said, “For that is what is good.” The friend then challenged His conviction that God exists on the ground that neither had He nor those He knew had seen God.

Sri Srinivasa Sastry: Can you prove that there is no God? Would you say that something does not exist because you have not seen it? For instance, have you seen Bombay? No. Does it then follow that Bombay is non-existent?

Friend: I have not seen Bombay. But I have seen many who have. That is why I believe that Bombay exists.

Sri Srinivasa Sastry: Very well. Likewise, our ancient sages who had seen the Lord have given clear indications to that effect. What is wrong if we unreservedly accept their words? Their experience cannot be set aside and so we must concede the existence of God.

He worshipped a small crystal idol of Lord Gaṇapati. One day, His mother had no eatable to give Him to offer to the Lord as naivedya and felt ill at ease about this. Discerning her predicament, He promptly conveyed to her that she need not bother and that He would manage.

The Lord has said:

(Whoever offers Me with devotion a leaf, a flower, a fruit or water - that devout offering made by the pure-hearted man, I accept.)

Sri Srinivasa Sastry satiated Lord Gaṇapati by offering a spoonful of water, with a heart full of love.

With the passage of time, He began to regularly express to His friends His desire to renounce the world. At first, His friends found His longing ridiculous but soon realised that He was firmly resolved. One boy asked Him, “What is the use of becoming a saṁnyāsin? By becoming a great king, one attains a very high position.” “Do not think thus,” He replied, “What long-lasting benefit is there in becoming a king? An emperor can enjoy only when he is at the helm of power. This state must come to an end sooner or later. If, however, I become a saṁnyāsin, I can constantly meditate and be without any worries. There will be a wonderful opportunity to behold God and I shall remain ever protected by Him.” He was just thirteen then.

[Shortly after this, Acharyal’s upanayana was performed at Sringeri in Śāradāmbā’s temple on 4.5.1930. With the express approval and the blessings of Paramacharyal, He stayed on at Sringeri as a student; His parents returned to Bangalore. At Sringeri, Sri Srinivasa Sastry was put up at Narasimhavana itself and not at the Math pāṭhaśālā on the northern side of the river Tuṅgā. He had an orderly schedule and was constantly engaged in His studies. Some students had been selected to attend classes with Him. The following pertains to the year that He dwelt as a brahmacārin there.]

Paramacharyal sometimes asked the boys in general questions such as, “Was the food satisfactory today? What was the menu? Was the food tasty? Was it very salty or too pungent?” While the other students readily voiced their opinions, Sri Srinivasa Sastry invariably remained silent. Paramacharyal, who discerned this, asked Him one day, “Why is it that You make no comment?” Sri Srinivasa Sastry said, “Whatever we get is Acharyal's prasāda. As such, it is always tasty.” On hearing this, Paramacharyal was pleased; it had been His intention to find out how far the boys were slaves of the tongue.

Paramacharyal found that Sri Srinivasa Sastry was a much better student than the others. He used to take the students with Him on His evening walk to the Kālabhairava temple, situated atop a hill in Narasimhavana. On the way, He got them to chant antādi verses; herein, a verse commences with the syllable with which the previous verse ends. Srinivasa Sastry performed admirably. Further, on several occasions, His ability to interpret verses and to quickly conceive of and advance alternative explanations came to light. One evening, Paramacharyal spoke to the boys about the greatness of Sanskrit and then chanted:

houses are mine (me) and these cattle are mine (me). The man who thus says “me, me” and has the same disposition as sheep (which bleat “me, me”) is taken away by the wolf, time.)

The next evening, Paramacharyal instructed the students to recite this verse and then asked them the reason for His having earlier recited it and got them to do so. Sri Srinivasa Sastry said, “This verse illustrates the greatness of Sanskrit. The syllable “me” means “mine”. Thus, the verse portrays the play of the ego in man. The syllable also represents the sound made by sheep. Thus, the same sound gives rise to more than one sense.” This reply satisfied Paramacharyal.

On another evening, Paramacharyal recited the following verse:

(A sow quickly gives birth to a hundred hapless piglets. After prolonged gestation, a she-elephant produces a single calf that is fondled by kings.)

He then asked the students what they thought was the reason for His chanting it. While the others were puzzled, Sri Srinivasa Sastry said, “A big school may provide instruction to more than a hundred students. However, if they are unable to grasp the substance of the teaching, the instruction will be a wasted effort. A small school may have a single student. However, if that boy is endowed with intelligence and takes maximum advantage of the instruction, he will bring name and fame to the institution.”

Paramacharyal was clearly happy to hear this. Nonetheless, He turned to Vaidyanatha Sastry, who taught the students Sanskrit, and asked him for his opinion. Sastry said, “It is given to only one mother to give birth to a child who becomes a Jagadguru worshipped by kings. Other mothers do not get this blessing.” The reason for his giving this interpretation was that Paramacharyal had chanted this verse just a few minutes after Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s mother had had darśana and left. Later, one of Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s classmates asked Him, “Was this verse not applicable to Your mother?” With His characteristic humility, He said, “I could not even think of advancing such a meaning. So, I thought of another one.”

About the Gāyatrī-mantra into which one is initiated during upanayana, it is said in the Sūta-saṁhitā:

(What need is there, O Brāhmaṇas, to say much? By the performance of Gayatri-mantra japa and homa, a person gets all that he desires. There is no room here for doubt.)

In the Manu-smṛti, it is said:

(He for whom the upanayana has been performed is freed from even a great sin, like a snake from its sloughed skin, by chanting the Gāyatrī-mantra, for a month, together with the Praṇava (Om) and the Vyāhṛtis (Bhūḥ, Bhuvaḥ, Suvaḥ), a thousand times at a place outside the village (such as on the bank of a river or in a forest).)

Sri Srinivasa Sastry used to perform His nityakarmā (scripturally-ordained religious observances to be practised regularly) with meticulous care. Acharyal told me in 1982, “I felt a great fondness for the Gāyatrī-mantra and started chanting it mentally whenever I could, right from the day of My upanayana. In about a month’s time, I was able to do so even while engaged in My regular activities. I was happy to find that I soon mentally repeated the Gāyatrī during My dreams too. I did not disclose My practice to anyone.”

Detachment to worldly and heavenly pleasures is vital for securing enlightenment and liberation. The Mahānārāyaṇa-upaniṣad teaches:

(Not by work (rites), progeny or wealth did they attain immortality. It is by renunciation that some have attained immortality.)

The Lord has said:

(Since enjoyments that result from contact between the organs and their objects are decidedly sources of sorrow and have a beginning and an end, O son of Kuntī, the wise one does not delight in them.)

body - the impulse arising from desire and anger, that man is a Yogin; he is happy.)

restless. But, O son of Kuntī, it can be brought under control through practice and detachment.)

Paramacharyal emphasised detachment to Sri Srinivasa Sastry. One evening, Paramacharyal was proceeding to the Kālabhairava temple taking the students and Vaidyanatha Sastry with Him. Sastry submitted to Paramacharyal that he had noted down some verses uttered by Him when He had been in an inward-turned state. Paramacharyal directed him to recite one of them. In response, Sastry said:

the body. The packs of jackals in the crematorium deem it to belong to them when the body lies there.)

Then, Paramacharyal proceeded to explain the worthlessness of attachment to the body. He finally chanted:

(People shut their eyes on seeing him, whom they had felt joy on seeing seated on the royal throne, when he is taken away by Death.)

The following day, Paramacharyal directed Vaidyanatha Sastry to come to Him with just Sri Srinivasa Sastry. When His directive was complied with, He said, “Today, we shall discuss the comparative merits of being a householder and a saṁnyāsin. You first explain the advantages of family life.” In obedience to the command of Paramacharyal, Sri Srinivasa Sastry and Vaidyanatha Sastry spoke of the plus points of one being a householder. Paramacharyal then detailed the disadvantages of that stage of life. He gave many examples and chanted:

should practise righteousness; life is decidedly transient. During childhood, one is bereft of discriminative insight. While a youth, one is engrossed in the experience of sensual pleasures. Later, what success can an infirm old man achieve after the dawn of discrimination?)

Finally, Paramacharyal asked, “Now, tell Me. Is it better to become a householder or a saṁnyāsin?” Bereft of any hesitation, Sri Srinivasa Sastry averred that taking up saṁnyāsa was, indeed, superior.

One day, He posed some queries to Vaidyanatha Sastry. These were:

(i) I have heard that the eldest son in the family must compulsorily get married. Is it so?

(ii) Our Guru embraced monasticism after becoming highly erudite. Is it obligatory that one acquire a deep knowledge of the scriptures prior to renouncing the world?

(iii) I have heard that when one is born, immediately a set of debts accrue to one. Some of these are repaid by serving one’s parents, some by worshipping the devas and yet others by begetting progeny. Is this indeed the state of affairs?

(iv) Is one permitted to enter another āśrama only after dwelling for long as a brahmacārin in the hermitage of the Guru?

(v) Can a young boy like Me take up saṁnyāsa if he desires to? Parents may not grant permission. Can saṁnyāsa be taken up without their approval?

Vaidyanatha Sastry was not in a position to reply satisfactorily to Him. Subsequently, Paramacharyal went on His usual evening walk to the Kālabhairava temple with both of them. On the way, He recited the following verse of the Prabodha-sudhākara:

(The Veda says that “loka” is not there for one bereft of a son. What is that loka? Is it liberation or transmigration or another world? It cannot be the first one.)

Paramacharyal then asked Vaidyanatha Sastry to recite the next two ślokas of the Prabodha-sudhākara and give the meaning. The verses are:

Sastry gave the overall meaning on the following lines:

It cannot be said that begetting a son confers liberation. This is because not all people who have sons have attained the exalted state. Further, if mere procreation were to yield emancipation, then the cycle of transmigratory existence itself would cease since numerous people do have children. A son cannot necessarily be the cause of happiness in this world and the next. The reason is that to attain a higher world, the Veda prescribes the performance of special rites, such as the jyotisṭoma. It does not explicitly declare begetting of progeny as constituting the means. The Veda clearly proclaims that wealth, progeny and the like cannot serve to confer liberation. Only the realisation of the Ātman, by hearing the Truth, cogitating upon It and focusing one's mind on It, yields immortality.

Utterances of the Śruti to the effect that a son is essential should be understood as merely eulogising the performance of sacrifices, such as the putreṣti. The putreṣti-yāga serves to obtain a son. To induce people who have a desire for children to perform it, its importance is stressed. The Veda, which is like a mother, certainly does not intend to compel one without desires to perform such sacrifices.

After this, Paramacharyal proceeded to give a detailed exposition. He said that marriage is compulsory only for a person who wants to enjoy sensual pleasures. It is not obligatory on one who has strong dispassion to lead a householder's life. Further, there is no Vedic injunction that a dispassionate one should get married. The Vedas indicate remedies for the removal of desires and never exhort the gratification of longings or procreation. Just as fond parents would only try to save their child from falling into fire and would not induce it to tumble into it, so too do the Vedas indicate the means for people to abstain from bad ways and to proceed in the holy path. In fact, the moment one becomes extremely dispassionate, one can renounce and become an ascetic. Thus, a man can become an ascetic regardless of whether he is a celibate or a householder or a forest-dweller.

Paramacharyal went on to explain the futility of begetting a child. He strengthened His explanations by various citations and firmly drove home His points. For instance, He said that only rarely one happens to get a son who is endowed with all good qualities. Even on such a son being born, if the lad were to be short-lived or diseased or were to later have no children, the parents would have to put up with mental suffering. If a young child were to suffer on account of diseases or planetary influences, the grief of the parents would know no end. If the child were to grow up a little but were to be stupid then too the parents would be far from happy. Further, if after upanayana, the boy were not to become learned or, if learned, he were to refuse to get married, then also the parents would suffer agony.

Paramacharyal explained that śrāddha (a rite performed for the deceased parents) is an obligatory duty that purifies the performer. He emphasised that the manes do not sustain themselves exclusively on the piṇḍa (ball of cooked rice) that is offered during the śrāddha ceremony. He went on to add that the stories found in texts like the Mahābhārata about the necessity of offspring are not meant for advanced spiritual aspirants who have strong dispassion. All the queries raised earlier by Sri Srinivasa Sastry were thus categorically answered by Paramacharyal; neither He nor Vaidyanatha Sastry had mentioned them to Paramacharyal.

At times, nature seemed to aid Paramacharyal’s imparting of instructions about detachment. For instance, on one occasion, when Paramacharyal was proceeding to the Kālabhairava temple together with His students, a funeral procession was seen. On beholding the scene, Paramacharyal spontaneously identified the deceased one as a wealthy gentleman and gave out his name. He went on to say that that man was young and had been living in comfort. However, the Lord of Death, Yama, had not chosen to spare him.

At this juncture, Vaidyanatha Sastry cited the following verse that Paramacharyal had composed when in a state of seclusion.

(Though having much wealth, grains or objects of enjoyment, who says at the end of his life that he has been contented for long. On seeing in front of him the teeth of Yama bared in wrath, what can even a king do?)

On hearing this, Paramacharyal said, “There is a verse of Bhagavatpāda in the Prabodha-sudhākara that is appropriate to this occasion and worthy of being cited.” All but Sri Srinivasa Sastry remained silent. He chanted:

(The body that slept on a bed adorned with flowers is now taken, tied by ropes to logs, and consigned to fire.)

Paramacharyal explained the significance of the verse. He pointed out that the dead man had, even on the previous night, been in the midst of all comforts. His heart had suddenly collapsed while he was asleep and so he now lay tied by ropes to bamboos. He was about to be consigned to fire. This would be the fate of all and none was an exception.

(Death is ever at hand. Hence, one should accumulate dharma.)

(One should practise dharma (without delay) as if one’s tuft were in the grip of death.)

We should perform our dharma and purify the mind so that we can obtain the realisation of the Ātman and become liberated from all misery. Only then will the goal of our lives have been reached. As He spoke, Paramacharyal's gaze was constantly on Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s face. At that juncture, a woman's wail was heard. Seeing the pitiful face of the dead rich man, his mother had given the cry of anguish.

“Even the son that I gained after the observance of many a fast and vow has not lasted. Even if he had not been born, I would not have had to suffer my present deep anguish. Having got married, he has now left his young wife a destitute. Is this the only benefit of begetting progeny?” wailed the disconsolate mother. Sri Srinivasa Sastry noted all this. “Is this the worth of ephemeral existence? I do not want this at all,” He muttered. These words were heard by Vaidyanatha Sastry. From His facial expression, Paramacharyal could readily comprehend His disciple's state of mind. He felt glad that His teachings were having the desired effect.

On several occasions, Paramacharyal spoke to Sri Srinivasa Sastry in private about detachment and Brahmacarya. What follows is a brief account of the advice given in some of the private sessions. [They were narrated to me in detail by Acharyal, partly in 1977 and partly in 1984.]

(i) No amount of learning, wealth or enjoyment can confer total freedom from sorrow and everlasting bliss. Only the realisation of the Truth can do so. Kingship, divine weapons, heavenly damsels and the power to even create a new universe did not, for instance, free Viśvāmitra from all unhappiness. In the Chāndogya-upaniṣad, it is narrated that though versed in the Vedas and various śāstras, Nārada continued to experience sorrow; he transcended all sorrows only when he received enlightenment from Sanatkumāra.

(So what if learning respected by the sovereign himself has been acquired? So what if unsurpassed affluence has been obtained? So what if a belle has been enjoyed? What is there for him who has not realised his own Ātman?)

Enlightenment dawns only in a very pure mind. Desires are impurities that sully the mind. To render the mind pure and fit for enlightenment, they must be assiduously eradicated.

(ii) Sense objects are not the source of happiness. It is a mistake to think that they are. Were an object intrinsically a source of joy to a person, he ought not to ever find it to be a pain. However, it is well known that objects are sometimes liked and sometimes disliked. For instance, to a person who develops severe nausea during a meal, the very dishes he found delectable appear to be unappealing and a burden to consume. How can an object intrinsically be a source of happiness to a person when, though remaining just the same, it is at times a bane to the very same person?

When a desire for an object arises in the mind, the mind loses peace and the period of longing is not one of joy. When the desired object is obtained, the desire that agitated the mind becomes temporarily quieted. With the calming of the mind, there is joy. Thus, calmness gives happiness and not desire or a sensory object. In deep sleep, when no sensory object whatsoever is apprehended and the mind is in a state of latency, there is very great happiness. The sage whose mind is very calm and focused on the Supreme has unsurpassed happiness.

Stable mental calmness can never be had by the gratification of longings. Though briefly quieting a desire, gratification only leads to the growth of the desire; the desire manifests again later, with increased strength. Desiring and striving for sense objects constitute, therefore, the wrong approach to obtain happiness, which is what all want. By discerning that sense objects are never the cause of happiness, one should develop detachment towards them. The dispassionate one is calm and happy.

(iii) There is great benefit in observing perfect Brahmacarya. For this, complete control over the mind is important. To achieve such mastery, one should avoid thinking of sense objects. The reason is that as one thinks of sense objects, one gradually develops a degree of attachment to them. When attachment is allowed to grow, it becomes an intense desire. When a powerful longing is permitted to manifest, it becomes difficult to check and uproot. When a man strongly desires some object or honour and a person or situation thwarts the consummation of his longing, he becomes irritated.

When a man gives way to anger, he loses his power of proper discrimination between right and wrong. It is well known that an irritated man may be disrespectful even to his Guru. From delusion, the recollection of what one has been taught regarding righteous conduct is lost. This destruction of memory disrupts the functioning of the buddhi and the man in this state is as good as destroyed. The seed of all this evil is thus thinking about sensory objects. So, if You wish to control Your mind, You must not allow Your mind to cogitate upon the objects of the organs.

(iv) Married life is a big source of bondage. A householder has to cater not only to his own requirements but also to those of his family. Hence, he cannot devote himself entirely to meditation and such spiritual practices. Many are the people who get married and think that that course of life is good for them. Actually, for a discriminating person, family life is so full of misery that it is better to stand on burning coal rather than to get married.

The body is made up of skin, blood, flesh, bones and so on. It contains within it urine and faeces. The body of even the female whom the undiscriminating consider to be extremely beautiful is only of this kind. Bhagavatpāda has taught:

(Seeing the breasts and the navel region of a woman, do not fall a prey to delusion. The female form is but a modification of flesh, fat, etc. Reflect well thus in your mind, again and again.)

Such recourse to discrimination enables one to combat lust and be established in Brahmacarya.

{Acharyal has told me, “My Guru was so kind that even when I was too young to be afflicted by passion, He emphasised the worthlessness of sensory pleasures and stressed the importance of dispassion and thereby precluded any scope for even the seed of passion finding a place in My mind. He rendered Me fit for saṁnyāsa.”}

In 1931, Sri Srinivasa Sastry developed high fever one night and became delirious. He started to speak incoherently. When the matter was reported to Paramacharyal, He neither authorised medical attention nor did He give sacred ash as prasāda as He had done in the case of the other students when they had taken ill. He, however, specifically instructed Vaidyanatha Sastry to note whatever Sri Srinivasa Sastry uttered while delirious and inform Him. Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s words primarily comprised an unusual combination of a dedication to Paramacharyal and a declaration of the Truth. He kept saying:

(O Sadguru, You are the refuge. I am Śiva. I am Śiva.)

Three days passed without His condition improving. He was awaiting vibhūti-prasāda from Paramacharyal. To assuage Him, Vaidyanatha Sastry told Him a lie to the effect that Paramacharyal would be gracing Him in person. Thereafter, He started to continuously chant:

(O Sadguru, protect Me. O Sadguru, protect Me.)

When Paramacharyal was proceeding the next day, an ekādasī, to the river for His afternoon bath, He heard Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s chant. After ascertaining that only Vaidyanatha Sastry was around, He abruptly entered the room where Sri Srinivasa Sastry lay. On seeing His Guru, Sri Srinivasa Sastry got up and then prostrated in such a way that His forehead rested on His Guru’s feet. Vaidyanatha Sastry was shocked as it is not the custom for anyone to touch the Jagadguru. Paramacharyal, however, showed no signs of disapproval. Gently raising His disciple, He softly said, “Have You still got fever? Do not worry. Go and lie down.” Then, He left. Sri Srinivasa Sastry’s fever promptly vanished. Following Paramacharyal’s touch, He became relatively introverted and avoided casual conversations.

That night and on the succeeding ones, Paramacharyal prayed during His Candramoulīśvara-pūjā:

About a month later, Paramacharyal formally announced that impelled by the will of Śāradāmbā and His Guru, He had decided to initiate Sri Srinivasa Sastry into saṁnyāsa and nominate Him as His successor to the Peetham. The initiation into saṁnyāsa took place on May 22, 1931.

That evening, in keeping with the Math tradition, Paramacharyal and Acharyal were to be taken in golden and silver palanquins respectively through the streets of Sringeri. They were attired in royal robes. Paramacharyal held out His finger and Acharyal grasped it. Paramacharyal led the way till He reached the silver palanquin. Unexpectedly, He withdrew His finger and occupied it. Then, He asked Acharyal to sit in the golden palanquin. This was most unusual. The scripture says that a disciple should follow his Guru and not go ahead of him. Paramacharyal’s command required Acharyal to break this rule. The seat of the Guru is to be respected and not occupied by the disciple; the golden palanquin was the one that Paramacharyal had used for years. Further, people could not be expected to know the reason for Acharyal occupying the golden palanquin and could have censured Him, at least mentally, for this breach of propriety.

Notwithstanding such considerations and though He was just thirteen and a half years old at that time, Acharyal experienced no confusion whatsoever. He sat in the golden palanquin. In 1973, I referred to this incident and asked Him, “What did Acharyal feel on receiving such a difficult instruction from Paramacharyal?” “What was there to feel? ‘My Guru’s command is inviolable. As a disciple, it is My duty to carry it out.’ That was My only thought then,” replied Acharyal.

✧✧✧✧

I seek refuge in Him alone who is the Supreme Brahman, who is the Lord of Māyā, who is an ocean of mercy, who, by His own māyā, assumed a body, who is ever bereft of bondage, who enacted the divine play of attaining perfection through recourse to spiritual disciplines, who is the Guru of the world and who is my all.

In His infinite and unconditional kindness, Acharyal recounted to me the full details of His divine sport of practising spiritual disciplines and attaining enlightenment and Jīvanmukti. In this part, I have reproduced as faithfully as I could the various conversations during which my revered Guru did so.

The account covers the period from May 1931, when Acharyal became a Paramahamsa-saṁnyāsin at the age of thirteen years and six months, to December 1935, when He attained perfection at the age of eighteen. When and where each dialogue took place and the context in which it did have been mentioned. The dialogues have been ordered to reflect the sequence in which the principal events occurred.