← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER VII

Pandharpur – Shetphal

(i) Dependence on God Is Liberation

Eventually they reached Pandharpur, the famous shrine of the deity – Vithoba. This was Ramdas’ second visit to Pandharpur. They entered the city when it was quite dark. They wandered in the streets in search of a dharmashala. At last they met an old woman – a simple, pious soul.

“Mother, will you please point out the way to a dharmashala?” Ramdas asked her.

“By all means, mother,” she replied. “Follow me, mother, I will lead you to it.”

Both the sadhus followed closely at her heels. She went on speaking:

“My mother Rukmini is so great, so merciful. She has assumed all forms. Everywhere I behold her. She is the man, bird, beast, stone, trees, stars, sun, moon. Oh! My mother has become all. How glorious She is! She is ever kind, kind.”

This was the vision of the old mother. She saw her divine Mother manifested everywhere. They arrived at the entrance of the temple of Rukmini. Here the old mother prostrated on the floor, facing the main door and lay on the ground in a state of ecstasy for about five minutes. Then rising up she turned to Ramdas, and said:

“Now, mother, come along, let us proceed.”

After passing through many streets and by-lanes they at last came to a dharmashala in which they settled down for the night. Ramcharandas must have felt very hungry. He said he would go out into the city and get some food to satisfy his hunger. Soon he left and returned after about two hours. Early next morning they directed their steps to the Chandrabhaga river. Here Ramcharandas came out with an unexpected request.

“Swamiji! I want you to initiate me formally into sannyas. I would have my head shaved and clothes dyed in ochre before having ablutions in the sacred river.”

Ramdas was taken by surprise at this strange proposition and replied:

“Ram, your proposal is simply astounding. Understand, sannyas is not a thing which another can impose on you or initiate you into. Sannyas does not mean shaving the head and donning orange robes. It signifies a state of internal renunciation of attachment to the transitory objects of the world. Mere change of appearance and dress is hypocrisy, if in mind and heart you have not given yourself over to the Lord. If you feel a real mental recoil from the objects of senses and have an experience of ecstasy in the remembrance of the Lord who dwells in you and everywhere in the world, by all means make any change you like in clothing and appearance, provided you are sure that by such a change you are helped in your spiritual growth, and get fixed in your faith and conviction. Do not forget that the goal is the vision of God. Now your question is to be decided by yourself. Another cannot solve it for you. Ramdas can only lay bare his own experiences before you. He is wearing orange robes because the cloth is reminding him every time he looks at it, that he has consecrated his life in its entirety to the Lord. He belongs to none but Him who is infinite love and bliss. So consult the voice of God within you and act.”

Ramcharandas heard in silence and did not thereafter press the point. They finished ablution in the river and sat for a time on the sands.

“Swamiji,” suggested Ramcharandas, “we should not leave this place for at least four or five days. The plight of our feet is simply deplorable. They are quite unfit just now for further exertion.”

In reply Ramdas had to speak at some length on a subject on which for some time past Ram was inspiring him to enlighten Ramcharandas:

“Don’t misunderstand Ramdas, take it, in the first place, that he is your best well-wisher. You have been exceedingly kind and good to him from the time of your contact with him. You have also suffered a great deal. Ramdas had warned you that to throw your lot with him would prove a painful affair. However, it is well you shared with him the discomforts and trials of the long journey from Mangalore to Pandharpur. Experience is a great teacher. Now you want Ramdas to remain here for some days so that the sores of their feet may be healed, while the voice within him bids him start from here before this very evening, and he has to obey the voice. Ramdas is not dragging you into another course of suffering when it is evident that you are not prepared for it. Moreover a travel by yourself will do you much good. Independent life will grant you increased faith in God. His constant remembrance will imbue you with a consciousness of strength and security. You will thus grow perfectly fearless in your complete dependence upon Him. Give up your slavish adherence to Ramdas. Roam about by yourself. God dwells within you. Be aware of His fellowship always.”

Ramcharandas’ attachment and love for Ramdas had reached such a degree that separation from Ramdas meant for him not an ordinary wrench, with the result that Ramdas’ advice fell flat on him.

“Swamiji,” he remonstrated, “I cannot bear to think of a severance from you. I simply cannot leave you.”

His attitude was firm and unyielding. Time passed. Ramdas lapsed into a listless mood. The sun had risen high. Ramcharandas broke the silence.

“Swamiji, shall we go to any one of the annakshetras? It is nearing time.”

(ii) Why This Lamentation?

Both moved towards the city. Passing through the streets they came to the noted annakshetra where Ramdas had occasion to dine during his last visit to Pandharpur. The kshetra used to feed with rich meals six sadhus every day. When they reached the place Ramdas found seven sadhus waiting at the entrance of the kshetra. The manager of the house was to select six out of the waiting sadhus. Ramdas felt an inclination to leave the place, as he did not wish to stand in competition with others, in the matter of selection. He had done so on a former occasion at another kshetra of this city. But there was Ramcharandas who would, of course, refuse to take meals without him. However, he stayed.

At the usual time the manager turned up with a note-book to take down the names of the sadhus he would select for dinner he picked out six sadhus including Ramdas and Ramcharandas. The rest of the sadhus departed except one who appealed to the manager to take him also. The manager told him that he could not do so as the rule was only for feeding six. He also added that he had his chance only the previous day. Ramdas made out that the attraction for the sadhu was the luxurious food, served in this particular kshetra. When the sadhu saw that he pleaded in vain, he requested Ramdas to speak for him. Ramdas with folded hands prayed to the manager:

“Ramji, do take him also. In a feeding house an extra man can be accommodated.”

With a few sharp words the manager cut short his advocacy as much as to say: “Mind your own business.”

The lucky(?) six were asked to enter the house. Ramdas walked in along with others, dazed and depressed. The extra sadhu was left behind. Meals were served for six. The thought of the sadhu outside troubled him. The meal progressed. He could hardly eat anything. It was a dinner of sweet balls and cakes. After finishing the meal he came out and what did he behold? The extra sadhu was still sitting on the door-step. At the sight of him Ramdas felt as though an ice-cold douche of water were suddenly poured over him. His hair stood on end and a deep aching was felt at the heart as if from a stab. Calling Ramcharandas quickly to his side, Ramdas asked him if he had any eatables with him.

“Yes,” he replied, “I have about half a seer of fried gram, tied up in my cloth.”

“At once hand over the gram to the sadhu and also any money you possess.”

He was given the gram and also a few annas, but Ramdas’ heartache did not heal.

“Ram, God wills that Ramdas should leave this place immediately,” Ramdas said.

He walked away from the spot at a running pace, Ramcharandas at his heels. His heart shook with an uncontrollable emotion. Tears began to flow down his cheeks in a regular stream and he wept and wept like a child. Ramcharandas looked at him with a questioning glance. Ramdas ran on until he reached the railway lines. Here he slowed down, but the weeping continued. In his intense grief he gave vent to the following words:

“O Lord! Why didst Thou make him do this? Why didst Thou prompt him to eat a meal in the kshetra while a hungry man was going without one outside? Thou didst direct him to do a most ignoble and cruel thing.” Then the rising tears overwhelmed him and he cried bitterly. Again:

“O Lord! Why didst Thou not advise him in time, either to surrender his turn in favour of the extra sadhu or, at least, later on, to hand over the served leaf to the sadhu, and to move away from the place? Thou art, O Lord, his sole guide in all matters. Now what hast Thou made of him? – an utterly selfish fellow. How cruel of him to have behaved like this!” and he wept and wept.

“Swamiji,” broke in Ramcharandas, “your grief is quite unreasonable, judging from your attainment and your attitude towards life. You have been all along hammering into me the truth that everything happens by God’s will, and He means always well. So the way in which He made you act in this case cannot but be for good. Then why this lamentation?”

“You are perfectly right, Ram,” Ramdas answered. “God does everything for the best. It was He alone who induced him to act as he did. Again, it is He who is making him feel contrition for it and complain and cry as he does.”

Ramcharandas became silent. Ramdas was now walking recklessly on the loose gravel by the side of the railway sleepers. He might have covered about three miles when a wail from behind arrested his attention and progress. He looked back. Ramcharandas was discovered sitting a few yards in the rear on a sleeper.

“Swamiji, my feet are paining horribly. I cannot walk. The pointed stones are playing havoc with me.”

Ramdas leapt on the smooth footpath down on one side and called Ramcharandas to follow him. They walked on at a slow pace.

“Ram,” Ramdas said, “Don’t you see at a short distance ahead a small railway station? Go up to it and board any train running towards Kurduwadi. Ramdas goes on his way alone. Why? – he is not alone; he has Ram in the form of the sorrow that had beset him to keep communion with. He will nourish it and enjoy its company. Go, be brave, God is with you. Make for the North. See places and gather experience. But one thing, do not forget the Lord’s Name. Taking His name gives you the consciousness that He is ever with you.”

While Ramdas was thus instructing him, a train was sighted at a distance, coming towards them from Pandharpur.

“Here the train is approaching. Run up to the station without any delay and reach it in time to catch the train,” directed Ramdas.

Now Ram’s will did prevail, forced by necessity. Most reluctantly Ramcharandas took final leave of Ramdas and moved towards the station with as much speed as he could summon under the circumstances.

(iii) God Makes Amends

Ramdas saw Ramcharandas get into the train. Now he wandered aimlessly. Often he burst into tears at the thought of the dinner. The grief dulled his brains into a state of apathy. He found solace only when he withdrew within himself and entered into the silent depth of his being. During the night he stopped in the rest-house of a small way-side hamlet. One of the villagers offered him some eatables which he did not accept. He was not in a mood to eat anything.

In this manner he roamed on for two days, without food, from village to village. He did not care for food nor would he touch any when it was placed before him. He was now feeling a sort of searedness at heart. His feet were swollen due to thorn-pricks and blisters. In this condition, on the third day, he arrived at a village named Shetphal. He went into a temple of Maruti and laid down his tired body on the hard stony floor and, covering it with his only cloth, rested. The time was midday. He had hardly taken half an hour’s rest when he heard the footsteps of somebody entering the temple. He had screened his head with the cloth. The visitor having performed his puja of Maruti for about five minutes approached Ramdas and asked:

“Who is that?”

Ramdas remained silent. Then he pulled off the cloth from Ramdas’ face and questioned: “Why are you lying down here like this? Have you eaten anything for the day?”

Ramdas simply replied: “It is the will of Ram that he should not eat,” and was covering himself again when the stranger caught Ramdas by the arm and drew him up into a standing posture. He was a tall and strong man. Then he almost dragged Ramdas forcibly with him saying: “Ram’s will is that you should take meals in my house. Come along. I will not allow you to starve.”

Ramdas had to submit. The kind friend’s house consisted of a long narrow room facing the street, the front portion of which was used for a shop of sundries and the back as residence. He led Ramdas directly into the interior where a young girl was busy preparing meals.

“Child,” he said to his daughter – such she was, “serve this sadhu first. Cook for him some soft rotis, for he is without any teeth.”

Spreading a gunny bag on the floor he made Ramdas sit down on it.

He said: “Maharaj, I am a poor petty shop-keeper” and pointing to the girl, “this is my only daughter, I have no wife. The girl is unmarried. So you will have no objection to eat from her hands.”

It was evident from his words that there is a certain class of sadhus who are opposed to eating food prepared by married women. However, Ramdas neither belonged to that class nor did he favour the views held by them on this point.

Now the food was ready. The kind shop-keeper mixed in a brass plate two rotis with a quantity of dal curry converting the whole into a soft mixture. Then he fed Ramdas with his own hands, just as a mother would feed her child.

“Lord, art Thou making amends for what Thou madest him do in the annakshetra of Pandharpur,” thought Ramdas. What love! What kindness!

Taking leave of the shop-keeper Ramdas rambled on and, after passing many a village, came to Anjangaum. Here in the street a man directed him to the house of the Kulkarni – a village officer.

Ramdas entered an old-fashioned square block of buildings and took his seat on one of the verandahs. He saw two men sleeping on the opposite side, their bodies concealed beneath white sheets. There was none other visible outside on the verandah. The time was about ten o’clock in the morning. As was his wont, he was humming to himself the Ram-mantram. The sound of the divine Name seemed to have roused one of the sleepers from his slumber. Rubbing his eyes he sat up awakening the other also. The latter went inside while the former looked at Ramdas and asked him what he wanted.

“Ram has directed His servant here for bhiksha,” Ramdas replied.

These words seemed to have produced an electric effect on the questioner. He invited Ramdas to a seat on a mat. Now Ramdas went on talking in a spontaneous flow about the glories of God and the power of His Name. Soon after, they were joined by the other friend. The first one was the Kulkarni, the master of the house, Madhavrao by name, and the second was his family priest Govind Joshi, a resident of Upalai, a village about three miles from Anjangaum. At the first sight, both of them fell in love with Ramdas. Madhavrao was overflowing with kindness. He drew Ramdas’ leg towards him and fell to rubbing the soles.

“The feet are not only worn out and swollen, but also a number of thorns have stuck in,” he remarked.

Joshi and Madhavrao worked briskly on Ramdas’ soles with two needles, and pulled out all the thorns. The friends observed the deep cuts and also that the skin at places had worn out so much as to reveal the flesh.

Madhavrao procured some ghee and filling the dents with it, also smeared it all over the soles. Then he took Ramdas for a bath. He applied oil all over his body. Ramdas had no bath for several days and exposure to the heat of the sun during the day and to the cold in the night, and starvation into the bargain, had turned the skin dry, dirty and coarse. With all tenderness Madhavrao washed the body with hot water and soap. While the bath was in progress Ramdas reminded him of Sri Krishna and Sudama. With all love the Lord had tended and nursed the emaciated body of His devotee!

Bath over; he was fed with a simple and wholesome meal. The day and part of the night passed in talks on devotion and lives of the saints. The ensuing day Govind Joshi proposing to take Ramdas to his village, Upalai, left Anjangaum with him, and reached the village before dark.

Govind Joshi was a poor old man. When Ramdas entered his hut, for such it was, he was welcomed by Joshi’s wife, as if she was awaiting his arrival. As he sat down she began to massage his legs and talk to him so familiarly that she appeared to have known him for years. A simple, childlike, splendid soul she was!

He remained in Upalai for a couple of days. The villagers came to see him in hundreds. Joshi and his wife, who had also a son, treated him with great hospitality. Indeed, hospitality is the pride and glory of Hindu households. He gave the devout couple the names Atrimuni and Anasuya, and their son Datta, and their house Atri ashram.

From Upalai he went to Angar to which place he was invited by Balwantrao, the Kulkarni of the village. Here again he received kindness and love from all alike. With the aid of an escort he next proceeded to Mohol, where he lodged with Janardan Pant, a schoolmaster and a great devotee. He was pure-hearted, and was also a sincere seeker of Truth. Here Ramdas met another schoolmaster, Babooji, a devout soul, who arranged for his journey to Sholapur by motor-bus.

With Babooji he arrived at Sholapur, and put up in the local Panduranga temple. He stopped here for a day and left for Bijapur.