← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER II

Kollur and Kasaragod

(i) Real Contentment

H. Umanathrao, a pure and selfless soul with his devoted wife, came down from Kundapur, a small town to the north of South Kanara, to take Ramdas over to his place. Ramdas left Kadri cave. The object of Umanathrao was to get him the darshan of a venerable saint staying at the famous temple of Mukambika of Kollur. The same evening they reached Kundapur. They travelled by motor-bus. The kind friend provided him with a separate room, the upstairs of a house facing his own.

Ramdas passed happily a period of about a month and a half in Umanathrao’s delectable company. Umanathrao was a true philosopher. He lived a life of selfless service. He was simple and unassuming by nature. He held a British university degree in medicine. In a spirit of renunciation he had given up Government employment and had taken up private practice. He was greatly loved by all the people of Kundapur for his ready medical aid at all hours. He was kind and sympathetic towards all alike: rich and poor, old and young, high and low. He would not take any fee for his services from the poor and even from the rich he would not accept any remuneration when he was not in need of money. He was entirely free from anger, guile and malice. He was extremely charitable. He would often speak of the world as only a play of God, and that the best way to live in it was to witness the game dispassionately. The light of divine love ever illumined his heart. When occasions arose, he would do the meanest service for the relief of his fellow-men. He also possessed a keen sense of humour and was remarkably witty. He was indeed a pure, godly and noble soul.

A month passed, and Ramdas reminded Umanathrao of the proposed trip to Kollur. Arrangements were at once made to start. Ramdas, Umanathrao and another friend, crossing a river by boat, came to the road leading to Kollur which lay through a dense forest. Here they boarded a bullock-cart. The path was narrow and rugged – cut through a vast extensive jungle spreading all along the way to Kollur. The jungle was infested with wild beasts. Kollur was reached without anything of importance having occurred on the way.

Kollur is a small village on a plateau bounded on three sides by tall mountains called Kotashadri hills. A dense forest of giant trees growing on these lofty and towering hills lent a peculiar majesty and fascination to the place. In the centre of the village is situated the shrine of Mukambika – the Mother of the universe. Umanathrao led Ramdas directly to the part of the outer building of the temple where the saint was lodging. Ramdas bowed down before the holy saint. He appeared to be over 70 years old. His eyes were large and greenish in tint and their expression was distant and listless but mingled with a gleam of tenderness and cheer. He owned a flowing grey beard that lent sanctity and light of wisdom to his full and beaming face. He was seen squatting on the floor, wearing only a kaupin. Having enquired after the welfare of the visitors he straightaway launched into religious talks.

He recounted a good many stories from Bhagawat and other sources. He discoursed eloquently upon bhakti or love of God. In the enthusiasm of the talks his body would convulse with spiritual rapture. At intervals he would shut his eyes and sit silent for a minute or two, his face lit up by a strange, spiritual glow. He referred to his body as a monkey prone to all sort of tricks.

“Look here,” he would say pointing to his body, “this monkey is often up to his tricks. The limbs get so cramped with rheumatism that they refuse to move about freely,” and he would add with a chuckle, “the monkey is always full of chesta.”

His legs were so weak that he could hardly walk without help. He lived alone and still was always cheerful and contented. His strictures upon worldly life were sharp and severe. The saint would keep the party engaged with his lofty discourses till late in the night. He would never get tired of talking about God and His glories. Whenever he was alone, he was observed to be busy writing down in pencil the name “Ram” with which he had filled up many note-books. Altogether, the stay with the saint lasted only three days. On the second day they were joined by a young but blind sadhu led in and attended on by an elderly widowed lady. The sadhu appeared to be about 20 or 22 years old. Owing to two cataract spots on the pupils he had become stone-blind. Dr. Umanathrao went up to him and examining his eyes gave him to understand that a simple operation would restore his sight, and that he was prepared to do that much for him. The sadhu turned round and said: “Kind Sir, I would have nothing of what you say. I am perfectly contented with the lot God has bestowed on me. What do I care for the external and perishable sight when the internal has opened? The former is a snare, and God through His infinite mercy has deprived me of it so that my inner vision may all the more be pure and glorious. I am happy and cheerful in the contemplation of the divine Lord who dwells in the hearts of all. May He always keep me in tune with Him.”

As he spoke thus, his eyes, the light of which had gone out, were filled with tears and his face shone with a wonderful lustre.

The three days glided away most blissfully in the society of these saints. Before leaving the village the party visited the shrine of Mukambika. They returned to Kundapur. Stopping with Umanathrao for a fortnight more Ramdas left for Mangalore. On the way he halted for two days at Udupi where he met K Anandrao, a pure soul living a retired life engaged in austerities. Ramdas enjoyed his most delightful company. Anandrao read out to him selected quotations from various philosophical works he had studied. In fact he poured into Ramdas the very essence of the highest truths. He was all love and kindness. In this connection, Ramdas cannot help mentioning the remarkable love and regard with which he was uniformly treated by all, including the members of the family to which he belonged in his past life.

Ramdas, during his stay at Udipi, took a stroll with a friend to a distant water-spring where he bathed. On return they paid a visit to the celebrated temple of Sri Krishna founded by Sri Madhavacharya, the great religious reformer of southern India.

(ii) The Power of God’s Name

Stopping at Udipi for a couple of days Ramdas proceeded to Mangalore, where too he had to stay only for a short time. P. Anandrao, an elder brother of his former life, eagerly wished to take him to Kasaragod – a town to the south of Mangalore where he lived. At Ramdas’ request he arranged to procure for his occupation a small room in a newly built dharmashala in the midst of three temples. In the vicinity of the temples were two tanks in which he would have the morning bath. Anandrao was very kind and loving. He was keen on Ramdas’ comforts. The little room was fully equipped with the simple necessities of Ramdas’ life. They consisted of a soft mat with a deer skin spread upon it, two ochre-coloured khaddar pieces, a couple of mats for visitors, a hurricane lantern, a country leaf umbrella, one copper water pot and some religious books. A piece of cardboard was also nailed to the wall above his seat with the divine Ram-Mantram written in bold Kanarese characters thereon. Ramdas gives these details since a strange event that happened has a close bearing upon them. His diet was milk, fruits and plain boiled rice.

During the first few days, crowds of visitors gathered round the rest-house to see him; of these, school-boys formed the majority. Many earnest devotees of God also visited him. In the nights he was often taken out to attend kirtan parties where the popular devotional songs of the great Indian saints were sung. These songs contained the essence of the sublime Hindu philosophy. They treated of devotion, knowledge and renunciation. Their direct mode of appeal elevated the mind and filled it with divine fervour. Among the hymns the most popular were those of Kabir and Tukaram. Indeed their poems were rare gems of spiritual thought in which were blended perfect rhythm, lofty idealism and pure emotion.

In the afternoon Ramdas was engaged in reading the English translation of Tulsidas Ramayana and rendering it in the vernacular for the benefit of the devotees who thronged the small room. They were imbibing with avidity the spiritual nectar provided by Tulsidas in his immortal work.

One day a young man, weighed down by despondency and despair, came to Ramdas. He recounted the tale of his woe. Ramdas advised him to repeat the Ram-mantram and assured him that all would be well. The friend would thereafter visit Ramdas every day, and he was found immersed in the japa of Ram-Nam. A few days passed and he came to Ramdas with a cheerful face and told him that the impending calamity that threatened him had passed off without scathing him in the least. All victory to the powerful Name! The Name of the Lord has undoubtedly the power of dispelling ignorance, pain and misery. So saints all over the world are never tired of glorifying the Name.

One early morning two old visitors who had retired from active life came to see Ramdas. They started a cosy little chat over their domestic worries.

“The thatching season has come.” one was saying to the other. “I have been on the lookout for grass bundles for the purpose but could not procure any, as grass-vendors could be rarely seen. I am much worried.”

“That is nothing,” cried the other. “My trouble is worse. Our front-gate needs repair. Stray buffaloes get free access to my garden and lay waste every blessed thing I have planted. I called in carpenters for mending the gate but they slipped out of my hands like eels. I can hardly sleep in peace at night.”

So on and so forth ad infinitum. Ramdas listened for a time to their frank exchange of confidences regarding their private troubles. He felt he was one too many on the spot and realised that they would better enjoy themselves without the presence of a third party who had no interest in their discourse. So he quietly glided out of the room and made his way with rapid strides to the top of a hill outside the town. Rambling for an hour he retraced his steps to his little room. But where were the birds? They had flown away. However, they dropped in again the same evening and beseeched him to forgive them for their indiscretion in discussing their private worries in his presence, at his retreat.

With all the sweetness that Ramdas could command he said: “The room in which Ramdas lives is open to all, for, people who are beset with worldly troubles may freely resort to it and gain peace and calmness through the remembrance of God. On the other hand, if they come to the room with a bundle of their cares and opening it spread its contents, they are simply denying themselves the much needed solace which the room would otherwise yield.

In one voice they agreed with what Ramdas said, and promised not to commit the blunder again.

(iii) God Assumes All Forms

Another extraordinary experience worth narrating in some detail befell Ramdas. About ten o’clock in the night on a rainy day, a strange looking individual entered his room. Besides his being clothed in rags, his hair was dishevelled. He had with him a small bundle suspended on a rough palm stick. He looked as if he were demented. He came in and took his seat near Ramdas.

“May I rest here tonight?” he asked in a queer sing-song manner. Ramdas said that he was quite welcome.

He sat on the mat and opened his bundle which contained a bizarre assortment of small bits of cloth in varied colours. Taking out the rags he scattered them on the ground. Then glancing at Ramdas he laughed a merry laugh.

Ramdas thought to himself: “O Lord, Thou cometh in wonderful disguises.” After a while the strange visitor gathered up the scraps remade the bundle. Next approaching Ramdas he chanted the burden of a popular Kanarese song, the purport of which was: “Thou art the ever pure, all-merciful and mysterious Govinda.” He sang forth this verse in his own peculiarly passionate and impressive style. He spoke in the Kanarese tongue. Suddenly, stopping his music, he directly looked at Ramdas’ face and said: “You see, my clothes are old and worn out. Would you not part with the one you are using for me?” pointing to the cloth worn by Ramdas.

Ramdas at once divesting himself of the cloth handed it over to him. The visitor carefully folded it and laid it beside him.

In an imperious voice he spoke next: “Now let us sleep. Reduce the light. Mind you, don’t put it out.” Obediently Ramdas carried out his bidding. He laid himself down pretending to sleep, and Ramdas followed suit. Five minutes had not elapsed when he sprang into a sitting posture calling on Ramdas to do the same. Ramdas yielded. The light was made brighter.

“I have yet to demand something more.” he said.

“Everything in this room,” Ramdas replied, “is Ram’s property, and since you are He you have a right to it. You may freely ask and take.”

Meanwhile, Ramdas had covered himself with the other spare cloth.

“I need also the cloth you have just put on,” and he stretched forth his hand. Without a word Ramdas surrendered up the second cloth.

Some minutes passed and he said: “I have need for a water pot. If you have no objection, you may give the one over there,” pointing to the vessel in the corner of the room. Emptying the pot of its water, Ramdas passed it on to him. As desired by him, Ramdas made up the things into a bundle. Then he called for the mat, the deer skin, the lantern, the umbrella, the spare langoti, one after the other, at almost regular intervals.

Ramdas felt that God was out to test him if he had any sense of possession still left. His dedicated life did not admit of any attachment to things of the world. Whenever he gave away the things to this strange friend, he did so in a spirit of delightful spontaneity. With a rising emotion he addressed the visitor: “O Lord, Thy tests are wonderful. Everything is Thine and Thine alone.” At this, the visitor broke out into his usual offhand laughter. He demanded also a few religious books which were in the room. All articles were tied up in a cloth and formed a pretty big bundle.

Later he said with a note of warning in his voice:

“Look here, you have given me many valuable articles. It is possible, when I am gone with them, you might regret your folly. What say you?”

“No, not at all,” quickly responded Ramdas, “since you are taking away your own things. Ramdas has no cause for regret.”

“Now, then,” he broke out, “give me that board on the wall.” It also went to swell the bundle.

The room was now almost empty. Being monsoon it began to rain heavily. The night had advanced and it was about 3 a.m. Ramdas had nothing on except a kaupin.

“One thing more,” he still cried. “I may also require the pair of spectacles you have on.” The pair of spectacles was duly handed over to him, examining which he remarked that it would fit him.

“Yet one thing more,” he said.

“You may demand anything” replied Ramdas. “Ramdas has dedicated his entire life to thee.”

“Pass me the kaupin you are wearing.” he asked calmly.

It was beyond any doubt now that God Himself was here for a crucial test. Ramdas with perfect nonchalance born of complete self-surrender loosened the kaupin from his otherwise naked body to offer it to him. But before Ramdas had removed it outright, the strange friend stopped him with his hand saying: “No, no, you may retain it, I need it not.” He then eagerly asked, “Can you follow me?”

Ramdas lost no time in replying: “By all means.”

“Not now, some other time,” he said and prepared to start. It was now raining in torrents. In one hand he held the lantern and in the other the umbrella, and the palm pole flung across his shoulder with the bundle suspended on it, at his back.

Standing on the landing steps he flashed a parting shot. “What do you think of me? I am not mad. I am not.” he said with great emphasis.

“You are He, you are He,” gasped out Ramdas – his throat fully choked with emotion.

The friend descended the steps and walked away.

Ramdas returned to the room and the moment he sat down on the floor, he was lost in a deep trance. It was broad daylight when he recovered from the trance. He beheld quite a crowd swarming at his door, of whom Anandrao was one. The news had been conveyed to them by the servant who was bringing for Ramdas his morning milk and fruit. They assumed that a thief must have decamped with all the missing articles from the room. They inquired of him how it had all happened.

Ramdas only replied: “The Lord Ram provides through one form and takes away through another.”

This brief and enigmatic explanation did not, of course, satisfy them. So he had to give out a detailed account of the incident of the previous night. All listened to the story with breathless interest. One of them suggested that the rogue should be hunted down and captured.

“For what fault of his?” asked Ramdas, “He has taken only his own things. There is no law on earth,” added he, “that can punish him for it. He is not a rogue. He is the Lord Himself.”

An irrepressible smile lit up the faces of all who heard him. They seemed to have understood him and quietly dispersed. Before noon the same day, Anandrao, all kindness and love as he was, furnished the room afresh, so that it looked again as if nothing had been removed from it. A few days later, the new water-pot had to be substituted by another, the second one having gone into the possession of an itinerant sannyasini who was badly in need of one.

Anandrao sought to replace the pair of spectacles but Ramdas declined saying:

“The Lord has deprived Ramdas of spectacles because he may not need them in future. His will be done.”

Ever since then Ramdas has been doing without spectacles, as his sight has been completely restored.

One evening, while Ramdas was reading the treatise on Raja Yoga by Swami Vivekananda, a desire arose in his heart to practise pranayama. No sooner did this thought flit across his mind than a young raja-yogi stepped into the room and sat beside him. Ramdas at once saw that the Lord had sent the yogi to instruct him in this great science.

That very night the raja-yogi initiated Ramdas into the mysteries of raja vidya or royal science as he called it. Thence forth Ramdas was mostly occupied in the practice of asana and pranayama. As the practice went on, he experienced a dead stillness and peace overtaking him. Accordingly, the incentive to reading and talk vanished. He became composed and silent. This change was marked and remarked upon by the daily visitors. Hunger, hitherto dormant, was aroused, and he had to take larger quantities of food than usual – the rule of satwic diet being broken. Under the strain of incessant practice of pranayama, he felt great physical weakness. A craving for solitude now seized him, so that he might undergo the new experiences in an undisturbed place. He proposed the change to Anandrao who immediately arranged to shift him to a place about two miles from Kasaragod.