← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER XIII

Bangalore – Bombay

(i) A Sadhu Magician

In due time, the party reached Bangalore and for the first day stopped at Bhavanishankerrao’s house at Malleswaram. Ramdas requested Bhavanishankerrao to arrange for him a separate dwelling place for their stay. A vacant house in the locality near the railway lines, well-known as a haunted house, was pitched upon as his future abode, for the time he remained in Bangalore.

Ramdas and Ramcharandas shifted to the house. It was a straggling and irregular pile of buildings with a decidedly desolate look about it. They selected a spacious room in it for their occupation.

Bhavanishankerrao provided Ramdas with a mat and two blankets. The season was cold. Ramcharandas also settled down beside Ramdas to his left. Ramcharandas had the tiger-skin always with him. In the wanderings through the villages of Sholapur he had not failed to offer Ramdas the full use of it. Wherever he rested or slept, it was on the skin. Here, as well, he laid the skin on the blanket, spread out on the floor for Ramdas. He was wearing flashily the red, woollen shawl about his body and a japa mala was seen running on his fingers. His deep love for Ramdas revealed itself in the unstinted and joyous service he rendered to him. He tenderly looked after Ramdas in every way.

The news of Ramdas’ arrival spread, and visitors from the suburbs and the city came to see him in large numbers. For bath and midday meal he had to go to Bhavanishankerrao’s house where he was bathed with particular love and care by Sadashivrao, brother of Bhavanishankerrao. When he was soaping the body briskly Ramdas would remark:

“Take care, Ram, if you exert undue pressure whilst rubbing this clay pot (meaning the body) it might break to pieces.” And he would laugh.

Very often Ramdas was served with meals first. One day in preparing the dal curry, the mother of the house had forgotten to add salt. He took meals without noting the omission. They found it out when they tasted the curry only at their meals. They asked him how it was that he did not call for salt when he was eating the tasteless stuff.

“He never felt anything wrong with the taste,” Ramdas replied. “In fact his mind was not there to discriminate taste.”

Among the visitors were poet Chattopadhyaya and his talented wife, Kamaladevi. They brought with them many of their friends among whom were a senior wrangler and his devout mother. The poet courted Ramdas’ society frequently and for long hours. Being a votary of the goddess of emotion and beauty, he was by nature affectionate and loving. Ramdas enjoyed his company immensely.

One evening in the course of a talk with Ramcharandas, Ramdas discoursed upon attachment and the sense of possession:

“Attachment to things is the source of fear and anxiety – the destroyer of peace. The sense of possession is responsible for the restless nature of the mind and so it refuses to be concentrated upon the absolute Truth of your being. Give up, therefore, attachment to the objects you have with you. ‘Possess things but do not be possessed by them.’ Whenever you accept presents take it that the Lord Himself gives you the things, and the moment an occasion comes when you have to part with them, give them away, with as much delight as when you received them. Understand that you are returning them only to Him who gave them to you. In the same light consider every gain and loss. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”

At noon, the next day, Ramcharandas said: “Swamiji, I wish to buy some religious books in Kanarese, and I intend going to the city for the purpose.”

“All right, Ram,” Ramdas agreed, “but return soon and see that you do not stay away for the night.”

He knew that Ramcharandas owned some money, of which he had made Bhavanishankerrao’s mother the custodian. He went to the city which lay about two miles from Malleswaram. On his way back from the city, while nearing Malleswaram, Ramcharandas came across two sadhus on the main road. They told him that they had nothing to eat from morning, and would feel obliged if he could help them with a four-anna bit. Although the amount that he had taken to the city was all spent, he had still money in reserve with Bhavanishankerrao’s mother. So he promised the sadhus that he would meet their demand if they followed him.

“In the first place,” he suggested to the sadhus, “you would do well to have the darshan of a mahatma residing in this neighbourhood. I will get you his darshan, and then shall look to it that you are paid the money promised.” The sadhus agreeing he came direct to Ramdas with them at his heels. He ran to him in advance announcing:

“Swamiji, I have brought two sadhus for your darshan,” and rubbed his hands with glee.

“Very good, Ram,” Ramdas replied.

The sadhus entered the room. Ramdas requested them to be seated on the blanket occupied by him. It appeared from their respective ages that one was the guru and the other his chela. The older one was a man of middle age, dark, stout and well-built. He advanced and sat down close to Ramdas on the rug while the younger man sat on the floor at a respectable distance. Ramcharandas occupied his own seat.

A closer scrutiny of the sadhu seated beside Ramdas disclosed further particulars of him. He had a short and thick black beard and a dense mass of well-combed hair on his head, clipped to the shoulder on which it rested in curls. His face was of a manly cut, having strong and rough features. He wore a tight, short, half-arm jacket. His body was solid and muscular. Around his neck was a thick red string with a single rudraksha in the centre. From this neck chord was hanging down a tiny bottle, suspended by a string. His wrists were bangled with iron wire rings. He spoke with a peculiar intonation from which it was evident that he was a native of Tamil country.

(ii) Wonderful Lila

ACT I

Now the sadhu beckoning Ramcharandas to his side said: “Get me a dry blade of straw!”

Ramcharandas went out and fetched a straw he wanted. Taking it from him the sadhu broke it into small pieces with his fingers and asked Ramcharandas to open his mouth. Ramcharandas obeyed, and the sadhu threw the pieces of straw into his wide opened mouth. But the strange thing that happened was that they turned immediately into cloves.

“Now let me have some loose earth,” he next asked.

Ramcharandas immediately got him some. Taking a handful of the earth he again called on Ramcharandas to open his mouth which he did. The sand was shoved into his mouth, and Ramcharandas was cheerfully exhibiting a lump of sugar in it. But his cheerfulness was not to last long, as the ensuing events would presently show.

The magical performance over, the sadhu turning to Ramdas said: “You appear to be greatly emaciated. Look at me. How strong and healthy I am! I would you were also like me. I can make you stout and vigorous. What do you say?”

“Maharaj,” Ramdas replied with folded palms, “Ramdas is perfectly satisfied with his present physical condition. God has made him what he is, and he does not desire anything else.”

“No, no,” he put in, “you must grow stout, no good to remain as you are.” Saying thus he removed the tiny bottle hanging on his neck and poured out of it a small quantity of ashes on his right palm and cried in a voice of command:

“Well, open your mouth.”

Ramdas had to yield. The ash instantly found a place inside his mouth.

“Swallow it,” was the next fiat. Ramdas swallowed.

“This ash has the charm and power of converting you into a robust figure,” he assured and replaced the bottle. Now for the second act of the drama.

ACT II

The cold being severe Ramdas was made to wear the woollen cap and had his body covered with a blanket. The sadhu demanded the cap. Ramdas removing it from his head handed it over to him. When he tried to put it on he discovered that it was too small for his head and would not fit in, the size of his head being much larger than Ramdas’. He returned the cap exclaiming: “This won’t do.”

Now he called for the kambal that covered Ramdas. Promptly it was put in his hands. On examining he found that it was not only coarse and thick but also unwieldy in size. He threw it back. Then the sadhu’s eyes rested on the tiger-skin, his fingers feeling its smoothness. Now a glance at Ramcharandas showed an anxious look on his face.

“This is a very nice skin.” the sadhu remarked and, tugging at it, said, “Let me examine it properly.”

Ramdas got up and allowed him to draw it towards him. A smile of approval flitted across his face.

“Here,” he called his chela, “take it; you may fling it across your shoulders; it is so light and soft.”

Ramcharandas’ face was now quite a study. It was deadly pale. Then the sadhu’s eyes turned round to Ramcharandas. He did not care to notice the pallor and despair on his visage. The sadhu’s next object of attraction was Ramcharandas’ red and lustrous shawl on which he gazed with a steady and intent stare. Ramcharandas was not slow to understand. He knew what was coming. He thought it fit to surrender up the shawl before the sadhu asked for it. Instantly unwinding it off his body, Ramcharandas, like a good obedient boy, placed the shawl in front of the sadhu.

The sadhu appreciated Ramcharandas’ power of insight. The shawl met the good fortune of gracing the other shoulder of the sadhu’s chela. The distraction of the moment had made Ramcharandas drop down the japa mala of shining black beads near his asan, and it became the sadhu’s next object of interest. It must be said here to the sadhu’s credit that he was a man of taste, nay, he was a consummate artist.

Without ceremony – there was none necessary – the sadhu took the japa mala from the floor and spread it out with both hands. A moment more, and it was round his neck, hanging gracefully on his broad chest. With a wide grin he looked at himself self-complacently and felt happy.

Now the third and crowning act of the drama.

ACT III

Ramcharandas had promised the sadhu four annas. It was time to call for it. Being reminded by him of it Ramcharandas said:

“Maharaj, the money is in the keeping of a mother who lives about a furlong from here. I have to obtain it from her.”

“No fear,” replied the sadhu encouragingly; “you may go and fetch it. I can afford to wait here until you return. I don’t at all mind the trouble. Do go at once, my boy.”

Ramcharandas started and went, only to return within ten minutes – indeed, he must have run fast to and fro – clutching in his hand a small meshed pouch of twine which contained all his wealth.

Sitting in front of the sadhu, Ramcharandas opened the purse and turning it upside down rolled out the contents, producing a jingling sound. One after the other the coins dropped down on the floor – four silver rupees and a four-anna coin. Ramcharandas was about to pick up the four-anna bit for presenting it to the sadhu when the sadhu’s right hand shot out and his large open palm grabbed the coins, and collecting all of them in his grasp, he transferred them coolly into his pocket. All this was the work of a few seconds. Now Ramcharandas jerked his head up and was gazing at the ceiling with the empty pouch in his hand.

“Ram, why are you so unkind as to withhold the bag? Don’t you see that he has greater need of it than yourself?’

These words of Ramdas caused him to lower his upturned head. The last vestige of cheer which he had when the sugar lump was in his mouth had completely vanished from his face. He resigned the bag to the sadhu who, refilling it with the coins, tenderly slipped it into his pocket.

The sadhu having played his part rose to depart, and without the usual formality of leave-taking he walked out with his chela and disappeared.

All the time Ramdas had been with great difficulty suppressing the laugh that was seeking an outlet. Now it burst out with all its pent-up force.

(iii) Feast in the Company of Rishis

When Ramdas continued laughing for some minutes, Ramcharandas remained sullen and thoughtful, but later, he also joined in the laugh. He could not help it.

“Swamiji,” he exclaimed, “I did not mind so much about the sadhu’s appropriation of other things, even the money, but, when he took the tiger-skin, to tell you the truth, Swamiji, I could not help feeling an acute shooting pain in the interior of my stomach. I can well understand now,” he added with a curious smile, “that you are at the bottom of the whole affair. You seem to be so simple, quiet and innocent. This is all your lila. Only last night you warned me against attachment and the sense of possession, and today you have enacted this play, in order to teach me a lesson. This is all undoubtedly your own work.”

“Ram,” said Ramdas, “you are a marvel. Do you forget that it was you who brought here the wandering sadhus, with the apparent object of showing to them Ramdas, while your real intention must have been to present them with all the articles they have taken away from here? They have after all come by their own. So there need be no thought of any loss. Remember, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”

Shortly after this, on the suggestion of Ramdas, Ramcharandas left for Northern India.

Ramdas received many invitations from the visitors for dinner. He stipulated a condition for accepting the invitations which was that, along with him, a dozen sadhus should be fed. Dinners followed one after the other. The one at the senior wrangler Kuppuswami Iyengar’s house was attended by the poet Chattopadhyaya and his wife. It was a jolly occasion. An assortment of twelve sadhus was a picturesque sight. Each sadhu belonged to a separate sect and denomination. There was the tilakdhari, the jatadhari, the clean-shaven and orange-robed sannyasi, the yogadandi, the udasi, the dashanami, the Brijvasi, the Ramanandi, etc. The meal was served in a spacious hall of the house. The poet and Ramdas sat in the line of sadhus for dinner. The poet, elated by the uniqueness of the situation, remarked:

“Ramdas, I feel as if I am transported back to the days of ancient India – to the age of the rishis. Am I not really dining in the company of those distant ancestors?”

Indeed, the experience was unparalleled. The sadhus dispersed after meals and Ramdas, remaining with the friends for some time, also returned to his retreat.

Some days later, he again started the practice of pranayama. Now Bhavanishankerrao also joined him. Throughout the day and night Ramdas went on vigorously with the practice. Once again he was seized with an insatiable hunger. He had to run to Bhavanishankerrao’s house twice or thrice a day for food. Once, one afternoon, he found himself in their kitchen, with a voracious appetite, where a mother of the house was preparing rice cakes. He begged for the cakes. The mother was very kind. At first he was served with two cakes which disappeared in a trice and he looked for more. As she served he ate on until he must have devoured about fourteen cakes, in addition to four cups of coffee and half a dozen plantains. Then somewhat satisfied he left the place, and returning to his retreat sat up in asan for pranayama. In ten minutes the fire of hunger was ablaze again. He jumped out and made for Bhavanishankerrao’s house once more, with as much speed as his legs could carry him. Then again he gorged himself with a lot of eatables. Ramdas told them that the gluttonous demon Bakasura must have taken his seat in his stomach! After some time the pranayama stopped and the normal appetite was restored.

Ramdas’ sojourn in Bangalore was for over two months. He was now feeling a call from Jhansi. The friends of Jhansi whom he had met during his last visit to that city had expressed through repeated letters their keen desire to see Ramdas. He left Bangalore for Kasaragod. Bhavanishankerrao and the members of his household gave him a send-off at the railway station. Their love was indeed illimitable.

In due time Ramdas reached Kasaragod. He once again met the friends of the place and also Ramcharan sannyasi who were all eagerly awaiting his return. After the darshan of Gurudev he proceeded to Mangalore in the company of Ramcharan.

During his three days’ stay in Mangalore he visited the house of a devotee at Pentland Peth where he was treated with great kindness and love. Ramcharan was with him and both had also walks on the Kadri Hill, the scene of Ramdas’ sadhanas in the previous years.

(iv) Owns Not a Single Copper

From Mangalore, after three days’ stay, Ramdas sailed for Bombay. The passengers on the boat looked after Ramdas with great tenderness and care. He reached Bombay docks. No notice of his arrival was given in advance to Sanjivrao of Bombay. Ramdas ran from street to street through the brilliantly lit city, as the boat had arrived in the evening. The policemen at the junction of the roads guided him. He made his way to Gamdevi where Sanjivrao resided. Sanjivrao and his wife were quite taken by surprise but were delighted to welcome him. It appeared they were speaking of him only a few seconds before he suddenly dawned upon them. He stopped in Bombay for about five days.

Mother Rukmabai with her girl Ramabai was at this time staying in Kurla, a suburb of Bombay, in her sister’s house. The girl was then about thirteen years of age. Ramdas had an invitation from this house and accordingly he visited it. Rukmabai and her daughter came and sat in front of him.

“Well,” the mother said, “what about the marriage of this girl who is growing up?” – a question thrust right into Ramdas’ face. “I have not a single pie with me,” she continued, “and she has to be married.”

“While you own up that you have not a pie he, in his turn, must confess that he too does not possess a single copper!” Ramdas replied with a spice of humour, and laughed.

The answer nettled her a great deal and she placed before him a lurid picture of his dereliction of duty and lack of responsibility. He listened to her with a cool indifference and said:

“Why do you worry over the matter? God’s will is supreme. All things happen as He wills and at the time determined by Him.”

“How can you say so? Do you mean to say then that human effort has no value?” she retorted.

“Human effort,” he replied, “is necessary only to learn that human effort as such is useless, and God’s will alone is the real power that controls and brings about all events. When you realise this truth, human effort ceases and divine will starts its work in you, and then you do all things in the freedom of the soul, liberated from care, fear and sorrow. This is the real life to be attained. So leave all things to the Lord by complete surrender to Him.”

The mother did not seem to be impressed with this philosophy. The talk on the subject came to an end. Next day he returned to Sanjivrao’s in the evening.

From Bombay he sailed by steamboat to Veraval. On the boat he found himself in the company of Muhammadans who were very kind to him. There was also a brahman lad on the boat in charge of a tea shop. He took a great liking for Ramdas and provided him with eatables. The other passengers were also very kind.