Agastyashram – Mangalore – Ernakulam

(i) Ten Days’ Fast

With Ramdas the kind mothers motored to their house, a fine little bungalow. He remained for half an hour in the house. Ram bid him slip away from the place. He rapidly legged it towards Malleswaram. His idea was to go to Bhawanishankarrao whom he had occasion to meet at Kundapur, the previous year. Ramdas reached Malleswaram, an extension of the Bangalore City, studded with hundreds of newly built, neat houses. Now which was Bhawanishankarrao’s house? He had never visited the place before. Ram must guide him, and He did.

After passing through a network of side-streets he came unconsciously to the very street in which Bhavanishankarrao lived. Again a few yards from his house on the road, he met Bhavanishankarrao’s father who guided him to the house. Bhavanishankarrao and other inmates of the house hailed him with unfeigned joy.

Here he met again Sitabai – now the widowed wife of the late Dr. Umanathrao at Kundapur. Over a year ago Umanathrao had shuffled off his mortal coil. Sitabai’s devotion and renunciation were remarkable. In the house there was regular devotional music in the evenings, and reading of Ramayan in the afternoons. Bhavanishankarrao and his sister Sitabai took prominent part in them. Now Ramdas’ diet had changed to milk and fruit. He stopped with these kind and devout people for four days. He felt a distinct call from Kirimanjeshwar, beyond Kundapur, which also goes by the name of Agastyamuni Ashram.

On the fifth day by the night train, Ramdas started from Bangalore and arrived at Kasaragod the next evening. Here he availed himself of the darshan of his Gurudev and other devotees of the place. Stopping here only for a day he proceeded to Mangalore. His goal was Kirimanjeshwar and he must reach it at the earliest possible time. He had come to know that he was to undergo at that place a long fast. After passing through Mangalore where he paid a flying visit to mother Rukmabai, he proceeded straight to Udipi and thence hurried on to Kundapur. Here he was put up at Ram Bhatji’s dispensary. The following day he crossed the ferry and reached Kirimanjeshwar.

Directly on arrival at Kirimanjeshwar, he had a dip in the tank opposite to the temple. Drinking some water he rambled till evening in the extensive woods, in the midst of which he discovered a tiny temple of a goddess. The temple consisted of an inner, dark, narrow chamber where a stone image of the Devi was installed, an airy and neat front room, with a smooth and shining floor, and an outer verandah. For ingress there was only one low door. He decided to occupy the front room of the temple. His possessions were only one coverlet and two kaupins.

His mode of life here was something like this: three baths – morning, noon and evening – in the tank, and water drink also at the same time from it. The tank lay about fifty yards from the Devi’s temple. Nights were spent in the front room of the temple and days in the woods. The inner shrine was lit for some hours in the night with an earthen cocoanut oil lamp. Every evening a mother of the neighbourhood would attend to this. She must have been lighting the wick at an earlier hour in the evening, for he saw the light on return to the temple after dark. One day she happened to be late and he was already in the front room. She came as usual and entered, but at the sight of the figure of Ramdas, dimly visible in the darkness of the room, she cried out with raised hands in terror and ran away frightened. Thereafter, she stopped away entirely and the lamp remained unlit.

Sometimes of an evening, Ramdas would take a walk to the seashore. He found there a huge rock jutting out into the sea. Getting a perch upon it he would watch the giant waves, lashing against the sides of the rocks. The sea-crabs would be playing about him and white seagulls flew overhead. The long belt of sand glistened in the sun. At the close of the day he would meet with a most imposing sight when the sun was setting. The gradual descent of the flaming orb into the bosom of the blue sea charmed his sight. Here, despite the loud roar of the waves, he experienced a calmness that passes expression.

Day after day went by in silence, water-fast and baths in the tank. Some villagers hearing of his fast attempted to break it by making him drink milk and eat fruits. But he was indifferent alike to the offerings and the offerers. One day, in his aimless rambles, he approached the bazaar where most of the shops were owned by Muslims.

“Who is that man?” a passer-by enquired of a merchant pointing at Ramdas. The merchant replied, his forefinger touching his temples, “He is a half-crack.”

Ramdas heard the remark and going up to them corrected the merchant’s words: “No brother, not merely a half-crack; why not say a full-crack which is the truth?”

He was taken aback at this sudden and strange confession. Ramdas passed on.

Now, what was the effect of the fast on Ramdas? After the third day he began to feel physical weakness. Again three days more, his power of locomotion diminished considerably. He could not walk to the tank at a stretch. He had to sit down at several stages on the way. There was also a marked emaciation of the body. Eight days later, he could only crawl on all fours for his bath and drink. He used to lie flat on his back on the smooth floor of the room. While trying to rise he would feel as though the back was glued to the floor. He was awake all the night and day. There was no sleep for him. Except extreme physical weakness he had no pains in the body. The mind was filled with perfect peace. Remembrance of God had become a settled and continuous function of the mind. When sitting quiet or lying down, he was often totally unconscious of the body.

On the ninth day, the village munsif of the place, a Saraswat, visited him at the Devi’s temple with presents of milk and plantains. Ramdas gave him to understand that he had no command from God to eat. He had no idea as to when the fast would be broken. However, he assured the friend that when he did so he would first take food in his house. The day for it was not far off. The fast ended two days later. Ramdas trudged on to his house which was over a mile from the temple. He had to take long rests on the way.

The kind friend, so also his faithful wife, considered it a happy privilege to feed Ramdas. After the meal, taking permission of the kind host, he left for Kundapur in a motor-bus, the friend having secured for him a seat in it. He reached Kundapur by evening.

(ii) Well-baked Brick!

In Kundapur, Ramdas as usual occupied the upstairs of Ram Bhatji’s dispensary. The medical friend treated him with utmost regard and love. He preferred to live on milk diet. Here he met Ramcharan, a well-educated Northern India sannyasi, who was taking keen interest in the social amelioration of the masses. The sannyasi conceived an unusual affection for Ramdas and got attached to his person.

Ramdas’ stay in Kundapur was during the mango season. The friends who visited him gorged him, as it were, with mangoes of the season. He was also made to drink large quantities of milk. The result was, he got an attack of diarrhea accompanied by fever. The fever completely took hold of him. His body had already weakened owing to the ten days’ fast. Instead of feeling discomfort, during the fever, he passed through an experience of indescribable ecstasy. Even when the fever was at its heights, he danced through sheer joy.

Ram Bhatji growing anxious proposed to treat him with medicine. Ramdas did not like that the fever should be driven out in that manner. He had accepted the fever as a welcome guest, and in its company he was having a blissful time. “Why should you,” Ramdas replied, “think of ejecting it? Let it take leave of Ramdas at its own sweet will.” Ramdas would have nothing to do with his medicine. The fever raged on for two days. On the night of the second day, he expressed to Ram Bhatji his desire to leave Kundapur on the next day.

“No, Ramdas,” he remonstrated, “I cannot allow you to start until the fever has abated.”

Meanwhile Ramdas had received an invitation from Sanjivarao of Ernakulam asking him to go over to him at once. He tried to persuade Ram Bhatji to yield to his plan but he was adamant.

“Well, can you permit him to start in case Ram frees him from fever by tomorrow morning?” Ramdas tempted him.

Ram Bhatji snapped. “By all means,” he replied at once. He felt Ramdas’ pulse; the temperature was at its height. He left him and went down. His anxiety drove him up again at about four in the morning to see how Ramdas fared. The friend examined him only to find that the fever had entirely left him. His thermometer indicated normal temperature. He was glad but was also surprised and puzzled, and at last submitted: “God’s ways are wonderful!”

“You have to keep your word, Ram,” Ramdas said. “You should arrange to send him off by the earlier motor-bus to Mangalore.”

“All right,” he said lowly.

At eight a.m. Ramdas was sitting in the bus, running towards Mangalore. The sannyasi, Ramcharan, accompanied him. He passed Udipi and reached Mangalore in the evening. They stopped at Sitaramrao’s for a couple of days.

During this time, Ramdas and Ramcharan had an invitation for dinner at the house of M. Ramrao, father of mother Rukmabai, who was then living with him. Ramcharan was unaware of the old relationship. They went and were treated with loving hospitality both by the mother and her father. When departing, the mother asked when she would have the next occasion to see Ramdas. He simply replied, “Ram’s will.” At this, her eyes were filled with tears. All the time Ramcharan was observing the scene, and a member of the house meanwhile apprised him of Ramdas’ relationship with mother, in his former life. Ramdas and Ramcharan left the house and while on the road, Ramcharan, shooting a curious look at him, remarked in a humorous vein: “You are not an ordinary sadhu. You are a well-baked and hardened brick.”

What he meant by the observation was significant!

The stay in Mangalore being over, he caught the mail train to Ernakulam.

(iii) All Credit Is to the Lord

Sanjivrao, a brother of Ramdas by past life, was at the station to receive him. He was lodged in a small room in Sanjivrao’s house. His diet consisted of milk and fruit. He stopped in Ernakulam for about two months.

Here he got, through Sanjivrao, books from the public library, and became a voracious reader. He perused over fifty volumes of religious literature. Amongst them he read the bulky volumes of Max Muller’s translations of the upanishads, bhashya of Shankaracharya, etc. Every day some prominent vakils and officers paid him visits. The outstanding event of his stay at this place was the feeding of the poor. It came about in the following way.

One day, when the friends had, as usual, gathered in his room, he threw a suggestion that they might join together in providing the poor people with a meal. They instantly took up the idea and raised amongst themselves the necessary funds to feed about a thousand people. Amongst the contributors special mention has to be made of a generous soul, who wishes to remain unknown, who bore the major share in this charitable service. He is so simple and unassuming that he performs all acts of benevolence without anybody’s knowledge. Truly he has been able to realise the saying: “The left hand does not know what the right hand gives.”

The ensuing Sunday was fixed for the function. V. Iyer, a vakil, undertook to manage the affair. It was monsoon time and the rainfall was heavy and continuous. The compound of the local Registrar’s office was decided upon, as the place for cooking and distribution of food. By beat of tom-tom, the public were informed of the approaching event. By Saturday night, all things were got ready and the preparation of meals commenced. The meal was to be a plain one. The sky was dark with heavy clouds and rain was pouring in torrents. In the night V. Iyer came to Ramdas and complained:

“Swami, there is no sign of abatement of the rain. If it also continues tomorrow the feeding would be impossible.”

When a thousand had to be fed, of course, it could not be done except in the open air.

“Don’t be anxious, Ram. Leave the matter to God,” Ramdas assured him.

The preparations were ready by daybreak but the heavy rain continued. In the early morning V. Iyer again visited Ramdas – this time with a look of despondency.

“What shall we do?” he exclaimed.

“We do nothing,” remarked Ramdas. “The Lord does everything. It was through His will that we arranged the whole matter. It is for him to see that it is carried out successfully.”

The hour had been proclaimed as eleven o’clock in the morning. Nine o’clock struck. It was raining as heavily as ever. Half past nine, quarter to ten and the rains still persisted. Now the strange thing happened. The clouds slowly dispersed. The rain stopped and the sun shone out. Within half an hour in the cloudless sky appeared the bright sun as though he belonged to summer. Exactly at eleven o’clock the food distribution commenced. Ramdas was escorted to the spot to witness the function. The sight of the vast crowd, inside and outside the compound and on the road, thrilled his heart. The feeding went on uninterrupted by noise or confusion. The almighty Lord ate through thousands of mouths.

One of the friends counted the number of people fed and found them to be nearly three thousand. Food intended for a thousand sufficed for thrice the number. Having eaten their fill many people had also carried the food to their homes.

If there is one country in the world, where beggary and starvation have taken hold of vast masses of the population, it is India. The remedy lies in the eradication of ignorance and selfishness from the minds and hearts of the exploiters, within and without. The case of the exploiter is in fact harder than that of the exploited. For, he sows a karma which will bring dire retribution on himself. An inner realisation of equality, based upon a purified vision and awakening of the spirit of sacrifice through love and compassion, can alone bring peace, harmony and happiness into the world.

All classes of the needy and poor were fed including the so-called untouchables. By three o’clock the serving of meals ended; all were satisfied to the last man. When the compound was free from crowds, quite an army of crows descended to the ground and cleared off the scattered remnants of rice. Indeed, in the economy of nature, crows play the part of scavengers. So the compound was, as it were, swept clean. The wondrous thing was that at four o’clock the clouds gathered again in the sky, and it began to rain in right earnest. Ramdas returned to his room. The feeding of over three thousand poor people, from food prepared for one-third of the number and the cessation of the rain for six hours, during the time of food distribution, were really glorious works of God.

He recollects that some people who witnessed and took part in the function lauded Ramdas for its success. He unceremoniously stopped them with the remark:

“All the credit is only to the Lord. Don’t make much of the servant for what the Master has done.”