CHAPTER VIII.

THE DAKSHINESWAR TEMPLE,—MARCH, 1883

It is Thursday, the 29th of March, 1883, and the hour of Sri Ramakrishna's mid-day rest. To him have come a few devotees, Sj. Amrita of the Brahmo Samaj and also Sj. Trailokya Sannyal, the famous musician, whose sweet devotional strains have so often touched the hearts of the members of the Brahmo Samaj. It is past 2 P. M., the time when the tides of the Ganges set in. The devotees are all squatting on the floor of the Master's well-known apartment.

Rakhal is ill, and the Master is talking of it.

"Just see," he says, "Rakhal has fallen ill. Can you tell me if soda water will cure him? What am I to do now? Rakhal, eat the Prasadam of Jagannath."

But no sooner has he finished his words than a strange spiritual mood comes over him. Does he see Narayana Himself appearing before him in the form of Rakhal? He looks at him with infinite love in his eyes, and repeats the name of Govinda with accents full of love. Is it the same love that filled the bosom of mother Yashoda at the sight of her beloved child, Sri Krishna?

A rare vision indeed for human eyes to behold! Lo! a strange calm has suddenly comover him,—even as he recites the name of the Lord, he is plunged into Samadhi! Like a portrait drawn on canvas, he sits erect and motionless. His senses do not function. His eyes are fixed on the tip of his nose, and breathing has almost stopped. Only the mortal frame has remained in the world of men, but the bird of his soul is soaring in some blissful heaven. Who can tell where? Where indeed is he whose motherly heart was only a little while ago worrying over the ailing child? Is this sudden change called Samadhi?

An unknown Bengalee in an ochre-coloured robe enters and sits down.

The Master slowly comes down to the normal plane; but the intense spell of the superconscious experience still lingers on him.

Noticing the ochre robe—gerua—he says, "Why Gerua? Can one put on anything he likes? [Laughter.] Some one said, 'I have changed the Chandi for the drum!' That is he was formerly a singer of the Chandi songs now he has become a drummer! [Laughter.]

Who may wear the Gerua.

"There are three or four kinds of Vairagya. Harrowed by the vexation and distress at home, one sometimes puts on the Gerua garb; but such a dispassion is only temporary. Perhaps a man is out of employment; so he wears the ochre robe and goes off to Benares. Lo, after three months, a letter comes to his people, in which he says, 'I have secured a job, and will be soon coming home; do not be anxious on my account.' But there are others who possess all the good things of the world, yet they derive no satisfaction from them, but weep for the Lord in secret. That, indeed, is real Vairagya.

"Nothing false is good. A false garb, though a holy one, is not good. If the heart does not correspond to the outer garb, the results are disastrous in the long run. By constant indulgence in lies or false deeds, one loses all sense of fear for such acts. Better far is the plain cloth than that. The mind is attached to the world and there are occasional falls,—yet garbed in Gerua!—that is dangerous.

"The good should not speak or do false things, even in a dramatic representation. I went to see the performance of 'Nava-Brindavan' at Keshab Sen's. Some one appeared on the stage with what they called a cross. Another actor sprinkled water. They said it was 'the water of peace.' Then appeared another in the role of a drunkard, staggering and reeling."

A Brahmo Devotee: It was K......Babu.

Sri Ramakrishna: It is not good for a devotee even to play such parts.

"It is wrong to engage the mind for a long time in such things; for the mind is like a bleached cloth which can absorb any colour in which you dip it. And if you leave it long in unreal things, it will become imbued with the hue of unreality.

"I went to Keshab Sen's on another occasion to attend the performance of 'Nimai-Sannyasa.'^* But some flatterers of Keshab Sen spoilt the whole thing. One of them said to Keshab, 'You are the Chaitanya of this Kali Yuga.' Keshab laughingly looked at me and asked, 'Who are you then?' I replied, 'I am the servant of your servant, a particle of the dust of your feet.' Keshab desired fame.

"Narendra, Rakhal—all these boys are Ever-perfect. They have been devoted to the Lord in every birth! Men struggle hard to attain a little of Bhakti, but these boys love Him from their very birth. They are verily like a Siva-lingam which has burst forth from the nether world and not like one which has been installed by man.

"The Ever-perfect constitute a quite distinct class of men. Not all birds have hooked bills. They are like Prahlada, never tied down to the world.

Nityasiddha and Raga-bhakti.

"The ordinary man practises Sadhana and cherishes devotion towards the Lord, but he is attached to the world as well and is attracted by the lure of Kamini-Kanchana. He is like a fly, which sits indiscriminately on flower, sweetmeat and filth."

^* 'The Sannyasa, or the Renunciation, of Sri Chaitanya.'

The devotees silently listen to the Master's solemn words. And he continues:

"But an Ever-perfect one is like a bee which sips the honey of flowers alone. He, the Nityasiddha, enjoys only the bliss of God, and never inclines to the joys of the world.

"And his Bhakti is not the result of any strenuous Sadhana. 'Recite His name so many times, meditate on Him so long, worship Him in such and such a way'—all this relates to 'Vidhivadiya' or Ritualistic Devotion.

"It is like making your way along the borders of a field full of growing corn, when you want to cross straight over to the other side; or it is like sailing along the tortuous course of a river to get to a village right in front of you.

"But all these disciplines vanish when you have achieved Raga-bhakti,—Prema-bhakti,—the Devotion of Love,—and you love God as your own. Then it is like going over to the other side of a field which has been reaped,—you do not need to take the roundabout course along the border of the field,—you simply walk across it; or it is like going to a village right in front of you, when the country is flooded deep with water,—you do not need to follow the tortuosities of the river; you have simply to ply your boat straight across.

"And indeed you cannot realise the Lord until this Raga-bhakti, this supreme attachment and love for Him, has come to you."

Amrita: Sir, what do you experience in the state of Samadhi?

Sri Ramakrishna: Have you heard how by constantly thinking of a Bhramarakeeta^*, a cockroach becomes transformed into that insect? Do you know what I experience?—it is as though a fish had been released from a pot into the Ganges.

Amrita: Does not even the slightest trace of your 'I' remain?

Sri Ramakrishna: Yes, a little of it generally remains: however hard you may rub gold dust on the grindstone, a little particle will always survive. It is like a big fire and the ego is one of its sparks. I lose my external consciousness completely; but She allows a bit of the ego to remain for the enjoyment of Divine communion. There can be no such enjoyment without 'I' and 'Thou'.

"But that slight trace of the ego She sometimes wipes out. Then it is called 'Jada Samadhi' or Nirvikalpa Samadhi.^† Words cannot describe that experience. A salt doll went to measure the depth of the sea, but before it had gone far into the water, it melted away,—it became one with the saline water of the sea. Who then would come up to say how deep the Sea was?"

^* A kind of insect.

^† The supreme state of the Infinite and Undifferentiated Consciousness.