← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER IV

Towards Gokarn – Gokarn

(i) Institution – A Bondage

On a moonlit night at about three o’clock in the morning, Ramdas and Ramcharandas left Mangalore. Ramdas walked at a brisk pace with Ramcharandas close at his heels. They passed through many villages, and at midday made a halt in the vicinity of a few thatched huts underneath a grove of coconut trees. There was a well close by. Ramcharandas prepared some khichadi. After finishing meals they rested for about two hours in the cool shade of the trees. Then they prosecuted their journey. In the evening they arrived at a mofussil town – Moolky where Ramcharandas escorted Ramdas to the house of one of his relations. They lodged for the night with the friends who were very hospitable. Ramcharandas’ aunt, who was there, dissuaded him from going with Ramdas. They presented to him in lurid colours the discomforts and difficulties of a sadhu’s life, but they could not induce him to change his mind.

Next day at dawn the sadhus proceeded on their travel and reached Udipi where they put up for the night with Srinivasrao, Ramdas’ younger brother in the former life. Leaving Udipi the next morning they came to Kalyanpur at midday where they were welcomed with great joy by a bhakta. They proceeded onward. From early dawn to 11 a.m. and then from 3 p.m. until dark they tramped on day after day. At Kundapur they halted at the dispensary of Rama Bhatji, a friend of H. Umanathrao, who had shuffled off his mortal coil a few months before their visit.

Crossing the Gangolly ferry they came at noon to a hamlet called Kirimanjeshwar. Here they stopped near a Shiva temple. On the bank of a large tank, in which they bathed, they refreshed themselves with food cooked by the ever willing Ramcharandas. The scenery of the place was charming. The place was close to the sea. The roar of the rolling waves could be heard at a short distance. The land was covered with an extensive forest bounded by hills. Tradition has it that the spot was sanctified in ancient days by the austerities of Agastya Muni. So, that part of the village bears the name of Agastyamuni Ashram. The pujaris of the temple declared that the water of the tank possessed wonderful virtues. The water was indeed pure and sweet in spite of the washing and bathing for which it was used by the villagers. Ramdas was greatly captivated by the singular fascination of this place. After resting for sometime they started again. They passed through Byndoor and Bhatkal and reached Shirali. Here Ramcharandas proposed to visit the famous Saraswat Chitrapur math. It was God’s will that Ramdas should only wait in the jungle outside the math buildings while Ramcharandas entered the math. After a while he returned with bhiksha.

Chitrapur math is a religious institution belonging to the enterprising and intelligent Saraswat community in which Ramdas had his old birth. The religious head or guru of the community has his headquarters in Chitrapur. The present head of the math is a young man of great purity, character and spirit. Ramdas had the good fortune of having his darshan in the Kasaragod ashram. His guru was conservative in his methods of control over the community, but he was a great tapaswi. His successor, the present Swami, possesses a broad outlook and has relaxed the stringent rules of the previous regime.

No institution can justify its existence if it does not keep abreast of the changing times. Evolution is the law of life and change is its keynote. While stagnation means deterioration and misery, progress denotes freedom and happiness. The former stands for discord and chaos and the latter for harmony and peace. Religion points to the vision of God – the supreme liberation and bliss born of the immortal. This vision is not circumscribed by tradition and doctrine because it transcends all limitations. The rules of life should be so set and adjusted that they might admit of being outgrown when the keen hunger of the soul seeks utter freedom in God. If this truth is ignored, life becomes a complex tangle in which the soul is caught enchained and helpless – hopelessly struggling to be free from the net of its own making.

The seed must have a ground so prepared that it might break through the soil and spring out into growth. Also favourable conditions have to be provided for the plant to evolve into a big tree, then into flowers, and lastly fruits. It must not be forgotten that fruit is the consummation of the seed. So an institution is the garden where every facility for the cultivation of the soul might ultimately transcend the institution for the higher, true and complete vision of life – just as the tree outgrows its fence and spreads its branches freely in the air, or as the pupil outgrows the school life for that of the world. Else an institution becomes at once an organised bondage and an incubus that warp and crush the healthy evolution of life to its destined goal of freedom and joy.

Ramcharandas and Ramdas marched onward. Talk between them was scarce. Ramdas exhorted the boy to keep on uttering the Ram-mantram. After some halts on the way they at last reached Gokarn.

(ii) Guru and Chela

Gokarn is a place of pilgrimage because of its noted shrine of Mahadev. It is on the seacoast – the temple being about a furlong from the seashore. The structure of the temple is extensive and of ancient model. The most important annual festival of the temple is Shivaratri. Ramdas had arrived there about a fortnight prior to this day of celebration. Pilgrims from various parts of the country were now pouring in for this great occasion.

Ramcharandas and Ramdas reached here at midday. They were invited for dinner at the house of a prominent merchant of the place where they were treated with great kindness and love. Then they went to the temple of Mahadev and saw a crowd of pilgrims at the entrance in the outer yard. Pilgrim sadhus were scrambling for place on either side of the main door of the temple. For, here it was that they received the greatest attention from the pilgrims who came with offerings.

“Swamiji, let us also settle down here – there is still room for us,” suggested Ramcharandas.

“Ram,” replied Ramdas, “What if we pitch upon a retired and secluded spot? That seems to be the right thing.”

“No, Swamiji,” interrupted Ramcharandas, “this is the best place for us, since we have the double advantage of being near the murti of Mahadev and also having the society of the sadhus.”

His reasons proved unassailable and Ramdas submitted. A portion of the ground was immediately cleared of its pebbles and loose earth by him, and some spare cloths were spread on it to signify that the place had been booked and marked. Night came on. They took their seats on the coveted piece of ground. Ramcharandas felt proud of their enviable position since it lay only second in the line to the right-hand side of the main entrance. The first position was occupied by two sadhus – one elderly and the other young. Before dark both the sides of the doorway, up to the extremity of the wall, were filled by sadhus. Of the sadhus to their left, the elder was the guru and the younger the chela.

“Ramgiri – prepare the chilam,” said the guru in a gruff and authoritative voice to his chela.

“All right, Maharaj-ji,” replied the chela meekly.

The chela released a satchel from his shoulder and extracted from it two small pouches – a chilam or earthen pipe, a coil of coir rope and a match box. From one of the pouches he took out a compressed lump of green leaves – ganja, and placing it tenderly upon his left palm, soaked it freely with water from his lota. After removing the seeds and squeezing the water out, he opened the other pouch and inserting his fingers, took out a goodly pinch of dry yellow tobacco. Then he mixed the tobacco with the rinsed ganja on his palm.

Now pressing the mixture into a bit of a cake he laid it on his thigh. Next he cut out a small length of the coir rope and making it into a ring, set fire to it. While it was burning he filled the chilam with the mixture of ganja and tobacco. The coir ring – burnt into red live cinder – he swiftly carried with his fingers to the mouth of the chilam. “Maharaj-ji,” he called out to his guru who was now deeply engaged in a talk with another sadhu, who had come from the other side, seeing the active preparation for a ganja smoke. The chela offered the chilam to his guru.

With eyes red with anger the guru growled at his chela: “Idiot, where is my safi?” (i.e., the small piece of cloth used at the smoking end of the chilam). “How dare you offer me the chilam without it? – you fool.”

The chela – like a scared animal – searched for the rag while, all the time, his guru was fuming with rage. However, he got the thing and no sooner had he wetted it than the guru snatched it away from him and rolled it on the nether end of the chilam. But before taking it to his lips, in a loud and shrill voice, he chanted out the usual invocation to Shankar, the Lord of Kailas:

“Bom – Bom – Mahadev – Kailaspati – Bholanath – Shanker,” etc. He then lifted the pipe to his mouth and took a prolonged pull at it, giving vent, at the same time, to a sharp hissing noise. Lowering the pipe he let out the smoke from his upturned mouth, as if it were the funnel of a railway engine belching out a cloud of smoke.

The chilam was now handed to the guest, the other sadhu, who was awaiting his turn with the eyes of a hawk. While he was manipulating the chilam the guruji by way of digression said:

“Ramgiri is a perfect ass,” referring to his chela. “He is a stupid and useless fellow. He was worse but has improved somewhat since he fell into my company.”

These words of the guru seemed to have entered like iron into the soul of the chela. They must have rankled and boiled his interior. He flushed red and his tightly compressed lips showed that he was trying to suppress his feelings. His turn of chilam came. He took it out of the guest-sadhu and having his own safi, for the guru would always consider it below his dignity to allow the chela to use his safi, commenced smoking. Again it was guruji’s turn and it was handed to him. A few minutes passed. The ganja had started its work on the brain of the smokers. While its intoxication lulled the mind of the guru, it raised the spirit of revolt in the chela. His long pent-up wrath – a flame nourished by the constant insults and ill-treatment of his guru – burst in all its fury. With a look of withering scorn and contemptuous smile at his guru, he broke out:

“I have had enough of you, you beast. For twelve long years have I borne the insults you heaped on me – you were cruel and heartless. You treated me worse than a dog. All along I was meek, submissive and obedient. I served you sincerely to the best of my ability. I thought at first I could, by serving you, understand the ways of devotion and knowledge. I craved for a life of freedom based upon the vision of God. I have now found out that you are merely an adventurer, vile and despicable, ignorant and conceited, – but too late. For, the vice of ganja smoking you taught me has enslaved me and bound me to your hateful person. I struggled hard many a time to break away from you but in vain. I am inextricably caught in the clutches of this fell vice – and you, wretch, have brought about this ruin for your selfish ends. The intoxication of this soul-destroying drug has weakened my will, destroyed my memory and distorted my reasoning faculty. I began to babble incoherently like a maniac under its influence. I knew I was going down and down into a bottomless pit of perdition – dragged down by your pitiless hands. ‘O God,’ I used to cry out often, ‘save me, save me.’ In spite of my unchanged condition, I trusted Him. I was sure He would help me out. The day has come. I give you up for good. God has at last called me away. All praise to Thee, O Lord.”

Now his eyes were wet with tears, he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. He stood up, made straight for the outer entrance and passing out vanished into the darkness.

This scene was intently watched by all the sadhus. Ramdas turned to Ramcharandas and asked:

“What do you think of it, Ram?”

“I did not bargain for this disturbance,” he replied.

“Whereas Ramdas enjoyed it all – it was a play worth witnessing. However, what do you say to a move tomorrow?”

“Why not, by all means,” quickly rejoined Ramcharandas.

Meanwhile a quarrel was in progress between the guest sadhu – who has sneaked away when Ramgiri was growing hot in his denunciation of his guru – and another sadhu, his neighbour, who appeared to have encroached upon his room during his short absence. They created quite a racket. The night was spent in pandemonium.

Ramdas and Ramcharandas abandoned the place next morning and came out of the temple. Having finished their midday meal at another devotee’s house, who was also kind and hospitable, they wended their way to the beach-side. They discovered on the beach a vast enclosure and some buildings in it. On enquiry they learnt that it was a brahmachari ashram. Ramdas wished to pay a visit to the ashram and both of them entered the main gate, and going up to an open outhouse, took their seat on a low bench inside. Shortly after this, two young men clad in ochre-coloured robes put in an appearance and advancing towards the visitors saluted them.

Ramdas felt very happy to see them, because they looked so fresh and healthy – the light of brahmacharya beaming on their face. Ramdas expressed these feelings to them and inquired after their guru. One of them replied that their guru was away from Gokarn, collecting funds for the upkeep of the ashram.

He said: “We have a goshala which keeps us engaged in attending on the cows. We have also to work in the garden, as we are growing our own vegetables.”

At the speaker’s hint, the other brahmachari left them and returned after a few minutes with two aluminium cups full of buttermilk.

“Kindly accept this drink – it is prepared out of the milk of our ashram cows,” they pleaded.

Ramdas and Ramcharandas with great delight drank the beverage which tasted like nectar. Then bidding the young men adieu, they left the ashram.

(iii) Fine Joke – Indeed!

It was by now about four o’clock in the afternoon and they were on the sands facing the roaring sea. As Ramdas looked round, his eyes rested on the hill close by projecting into the sea.

Turning to Ramcharandas he said: “Ram, let us go up that hill and see if we can find a place to spend the night. From the top of the hill we can also have a fine view of the sea and land.”

Ramcharandas agreeing, they walked in the direction of the hill. They had to wade through the waves on the shore – the waters were not deep. They reached the landing and climbed up a slope, and came upon a small reservoir of water, the supply of which was kept constant by a never failing spring. They drank at the spout the cool and sweet water and proceeded further up. Here was a small temple of a Devi. They were told by the pujari that the spring and the tank went by the name Ramatirtha. They proceeded past the spring higher still, Ramdas leading the way. A few yards further progress brought them on the top of the hill which was a vast undulating plateau. At a distance of about a furlong from where they stood, they descried on the highest level an oblong solid structure of stone. Ramdas silently tramped on towards it – closely followed by Ramcharandas.

When they reached the structure they found that it was cut out of one solid mass of rock – the roof was a low dome formed of the same rock as its thick walls. They entered the rock chamber. It was cubical in dimensions, the floor area being about ten feet square. The interior of the dome resembled a hollow cup. Entrance was from two narrow arched passages sufficiently high, directly facing each other in the opposite walls.

“Ram,” explained Ramdas to Ramcharandas, “we shall occupy this place for the nights during our stay in Gokarn.”

Ramcharandas looked round and the prospect did not appeal to him, for a cold breeze was blowing over the spot from the direction of the sea.

“Cold will be extreme here in the night,” he remarked.

“We are out to bear sufferings in the name of God,” put in Ramdas, “at least that is the secret of Ramdas’ life. Let us cheerfully face the situation in which God has chosen to place us.”

He kept silent which meant half consent. After a time he suggested: “Swamiji, to provide against the cold let us at least have a fire. There is a little way off down on the slope – a grove of trees. We can collect from beneath them a sufficient quantity of dry twigs to serve our purpose for the night.”

Ramdas consenting, both set out in the direction of the trees and collected in their cloths a pretty large quantity of twigs, and returned to the rock chamber.

Presently the sun was setting in the far horizon illuminating the hill and all the space around it with its golden effulgence. Ramdas stood still facing the sea. It was a gorgeous sight. A silent prayer went up from him to the throne of the almighty Lord of such lavish grandeur and beauty that it merged him in His blissful omnipresence. Night gradually threw her dark mantle over land and sea. He turned to the rock chamber. The breeze had now developed into a gale. Ramcharandas was engaged in making fire. On peeping into the chamber, Ramdas saw that the impatient boy had struck about half a dozen matches to light the dry twigs, and he had failed. The strong breeze which blew into the chamber would not permit of a fire. Even the twigs were swept away by the wind. The cold had also increased. Ramcharandas was not to be easily foiled. He struck match after match fighting at the same time to keep the twigs in their place, but all to no avail. He threw the empty match-box down in utter disgust, and turning to Ramdas, with a face completely devoid of cheer, cried vehemently:

“Swamiji, no fire for the night!”

The gale had now developed into a hurricane. Even the cloth on the body could not be retained; the wind was icy cold. They sought refuge in one of the corners of the chamber. Even there the wind blew with all its force.

“Nice mess we are in,” grumbled Ramcharandas, struggling to keep the coverlet tight on his body.

The humour of the situation struck Ramdas more than anything else, and he could not resist a hearty laugh.

“It is God’s will, Ram. He means always well,” consoled Ramdas.

The night was pitch-dark and escape from the place was out of the question. Ramcharandas drawing deep breaths crept towards Ramdas and, in the posture of a rabbit at feed, stuck close to him.

“Ram, what is the fun?” Ramdas asked.

“Fine joke, indeed!” he growled. “Rather than spend the nights here, also tomorrow and the subsequent days of our sojourn in Gokarn, we had better show a clean pair of heels to Gokarn as soon as the day breaks.”

At this Ramdas rolled on the floor with uncontrollable laughter, and Ramcharandas had this time the good humour to join in the merriment.

“Tomorrow’s question be for tomorrow,” said Ramdas. “Now about the present. Keep on repeating Ram-mantram. Since there is no fear of sleep encroaching upon the japa, let us fill the hours with the Lord’s remembrance.”

Although the lips were shivering with cold, the japa went on at an incredibly brisk rate. After all, every circumstance in which God places us has its own advantages, if we would only see. Morning dawned. As the first streaks of light from the rising sun dispelled the gloom of darkness, a voice filtered out from within the coverlet of Ramcharandas. He had fully enveloped himself with the cloth clutching at its corners with a dogged pertinacity.

“Swamiji, what does Ram want us to do next? If I may suggest….”

Ramdas anticipating what he was driving at, said:

“Yes, Ram, we shall leave Gokarn and proceed still further north. Let us start.”

At these words Ramcharandas well-nigh bounded from the corner in which he had cooped himself. Shouldering his arm bag and, taking up the water vessel or lota, he was ready in an instant to set out. They descended and came upon the main road. A ten-mile walk brought them to a spring and tank in the midst of a jungle. Here they made a halt and, with the provisions Ramcharandas carried, he prepared some rotis and dal. A bath at the cool spring and the simple fare refreshed them. They rested on the grass under the shade of trees till the rigour of the hot sun abated.