← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER XXII

Gohkar Parvat

(i) Reckless Activity

Ramdas arrived at Jhansi. At the station he was welcomed by Ramkinkar and Mahadev Prasad. The latter embraced him and wept through joy on beholding him once more. He was put up again at Atkhamba. After two or three days’ stay, he left Jhansi in the company of Ramkinkar and Chhedilal, also an earnest and loving soul. The Mahoba friends were intimated by wire of his coming. So about a dozen of them including Ramcharandas were eagerly looking for the arrival of the train at the Mahoba station. On alighting, the party was enthusiastically welcomed by the friends and were led to the city, and for the night they occupied the Mahavira’s temple situated outside the town on the way to Gohkar Parvat. Next day, they ascended the Parvat and reached the caves in which he had lived on a former occasion.

A brahman boy named Kallu undertook to cook for him, and Jagannath supplied provisions. Two or three days later, a sannyasi, Bhagawan by name, whom he had seen before in Chitrakut Pilikoti Ashram in the mela of sannyasis during the Ram-navami festival, came to stay with him. Bhagawan was a pure-hearted and simple sadhu, extremely quiet and taciturn. His great love for Ramdas made him stick to the place. Ramcharandas was of course there. For nearly four months Ramdas lived on those hills.

In the company of devotees who used to come in large numbers from the surrounding villages, Ramdas would dance to the loud and measured repetition of Ram-mantram. The whole stay was a period of unique spiritual ecstasy. He would feel, when about fifty men were dancing with the sweet music of God’s Name, as though the whole universe was dancing too. Dance for hours did not in the least fatigue him. Bhagawan, who was not till then accustomed to dancing, also joined them. Whoever newly came to the hills could hardly resist dancing. God’s name resounded through the hills, producing an atmosphere pregnant with blissful thrills.

In the nights some devotees who possessed a sweet voice sang to the beats of a hand-drum, songs of Kabir and Banarasi. The kirtan would proceed far into the night, till two or three early morning. Ramkinkar, finding the hill awe-inspiring, especially when he was told that tigers roamed about in the nights, refused to stay with him and returned to the town with the visitors. Within three or four days, his leave having expired, he left for Jhansi. Chhedilal continued his stay for a week at the expiry of which he also returned to Jhansi. He had remained on the hills day and night.

Ramdas was, during the day time, like a frisky monkey. He could not stand quiet. He would either dance or run. When he was not engaged in dance he would run up the surrounding tall hills like a squirrel. He used to feel his body extremely light, and the divine Shakti was coursing through his frame like the lightning current. When he reached the top of the hill he would cry out in a high pitch: “Hari Om,” and the sacred syllables would reverberate through the hills. Every hill would echo back the sound of “Hari Om” in a distinct and ready response, filling the air with rapturous harmony.

Ramdas would be followed in his race uphill by Ramcharandas, Jagannath and one or two others. The ascents were perilous and few dared to follow him. While descending, it was not by creeping down that he would come to the bottom. He would jump from one rock to the other. At times he would recklessly take leaps over fifty feet, but every time he alighted on the lower rock safe on all fours like an ape. Life and body were held by him light as straw. In spite of the incessant activity to which he subjected his body, he never knew exhaustion. He was as fresh and vigorous as ever.

In the wanderings on the hills with friends, he once came upon a gigantic stone image of a three-headed God, leaning against the side of a hillock. The ruins around showed that in olden days there was a temple here for the huge stone idol. He was urged from within to climb to the head of the image which he did with lightning rapidity, and on the broad crown of its head he danced with untold delight.

The party had another addition of a Vaishnava saint, Vaijnath.

He would remain at the base of the cave with a fire before him telling his beads all the night. One of his disciples, an elderly mother, would come to the hills during the afternoons and entertain them with the charming songs of Mirabai. Her devotion was so great that when she sang, tears of ecstasy would course down her cheeks, and her face would be aglow with spiritual light.

The devotees hoisted on the hillock, on which Ramdas lived, a gigantic flag, ten feet by ten feet, containing in big Hindi characters the Ram-mantram “Om Sri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram.” The flag was visible for miles from the hills.

It was a dark night. The rain was pouring and the air was chill. About ten o’clock, when the party of singers were deeply engaged in kirtan and Ramdas was occupying the small interior cave, a young, educated and well-dressed man turned up with an escort. Coming to Ramdas he fell at his feet and said:

“Swamiji, I am on my way to Cawnpore from Chhattarpur. I heard of you and have come for your darshan, having broken journey at Mahoba. Pray have your kripa on me.”

He received from Ramdas, then and there, the upadesh of Ram-mantram. When all were silently sitting, three big centipedes appeared on the scene. They were moving about freely. A lantern was burning in the centre of the group. One of the centipedes approached the young man whose name was Ramchandra Gupta. He was shrinking from it, when Ramdas asked him not to be afraid of it, and assured him that it would do no harm. One of them actually passed over the lap of Ramdas in quite a friendly manner. Shortly after this Ramchandra left.

(ii) Alone on a Dreaded Hill

Ramkinkar had specially accompanied Ramdas to Gohkar in order to arrange an ashram on those hills. He had collected over two hundred rupees for the purpose. Ugarchand Seth of Limbdi had also contributed to the fund. The prospect of having a kuti on those dreadful hills did not appeal to Ramkinkar, but he could not object as Ramdas had pitched upon the place. He gave some amount to Jagannath and instructed him in the first place to dig a tank for water.

There was an attempt made by Balak Ram, when he lived there, to sink a small tank, but the work had to be given up for want of encouragement. Now it was proposed to deepen the same pond and build up the sides with stones and mortar. Coolies were engaged for the work, and on digging a few feet a spring was lighted upon, which supplied the small tank with water. The work was going on when one of the friends quarrelled with Jagannath, who managed the work, over the wages paid to the coolies and the work stopped, never to be taken up again. Ramdas dropped the idea of having an ashram there.

Ramcharandas, then only a lad of about eighteen, was perfectly fearless. One evening, as the sun went down, Ramdas asked him to go and sit for the night in a cave on the hill opposite, the biggest of the lot. The leopards and tigers have their home in the caves of this hill. He cheerfully obeyed Ramdas.

“Look here, Ram,” Ramdas told him, “you have to sit in utter darkness in one of the lairs of the tigers. You should never have a wink of sleep for the night. Repeat the Ram-mantram without stopping and you have no fear – go.” He went.

The night passed. At daybreak Ramdas came out of his cave and saw Ramcharandas descending the hill which he had occupied in the night. When he approached Ramdas he asked him:

“Ram, were you not afraid in the night?”

“Not in the least,” he replied.

“How is that? Ram-mantram perhaps never left your lips.”

“Not only that,” he said, “I was there in accordance with your command, and so I was perfectly certain that no harm would befall me.” Wonderful was the faith of the boy!

About this time, Ramcharandas was reading a Kanarese translation of Vedantic works. He came to Ramdas one day and said:

“Swamiji, Vedanta declares everything is Brahman. Then, when I am Brahman Himself, where is the necessity for sadhana on which you lay so much stress?”

“True, Ram,” replied Ramdas, “everything is Brahman, but this has to be realised; merely saying that you are Brahman cannot make you realise the truth. You ought to experience that state, rising above all sense of duality by freeing your mind from illusion. Your ‘I’, should no longer be the local, narrow individual ‘I’ but the universal, eternal and absolute ‘I’. To realise this ineffable, perfect state, sadhana is necessary. Mind and its desires have to be conquered by concentration and purification.”

“When there is nothing but Brahman who is to do sadhana?” Ramcharandas put in.

“You will know. Experience will teach you that the jiva has a false existence; still it exists encompassed by darkness and ignorance,” said Ramdas.

He was not convinced; but it was not long before he was. He gave up repetition of God’s name and early rising. He slept like a log till late in the morning and again in the noon he slept for long hours; the result was that he was seized with unusual hunger. Stealthily he would go into the bottom cave, which was used for a store, and mixing large quantities of a mingled food-stuff called satua with water, he would quietly eat it. This he took in addition to the usual food with regard to which a fight ensued between him and Kallu the cook who complained that Ramcharandas would eat up all the roties, leaving him nothing. One morning he appeared before Ramdas with a mottled face, full of red eruptions.

“What is the matter with you, Ram?” Ramdas asked.

“Don’t know, I feel also feverish,” he replied with a wry face.

“It is all due to over-eating, satua has manifested itself on the face. Is it not so?” Ramdas said laughing.

He was as quiet as a mummy. Then he crouched near Ramdas in the tiny cave which he occupied, fully covered with his cloth, but shivering with high fever.

“Ram, are you not Brahman?” Ramdas asked.

“Swamiji, now I know I am not. A wonderful way of teaching you have!”

“Ramdas is not teaching. It is Ram who teaches you. Do Ram-bhajan and everything will be all right.” Ramdas assured him.

Next day he went without any food, and on the third day he was all right. He took up again the Ram-Mantram. One day a complaint came to him from Kallu who said that Ramcharandas was worrying him for the brass cup which he (Kallu) had somewhere mislaid.

“Yes, Swamiji.” grumbled Ramcharandas, “it was a cup which was such a nice fit to my lota; I want it.”

“Ram,” Ramdas asked “whose cup was it?”

“Mine,” rejoined the boy.

“Nothing is yours, Ram. Everything is God’s; it came from Him and has gone back to Him, so don’t fret,” said Ramdas.

“Very fine consolation,” he said with a tinge of regret for his loss.

Thereafter he slept over the matter. One day he said that he was going to Chhattarpur to stay for some time with Balak Ram who was holding his durbar on one of the hills of that state. Ramdas was receiving invitations from him repeatedly. Ramcharandas had heard of the ways of Balak Ram. So he did not want to take with him his new lota which he loved so much.

“Swamiji, I leave the lota with you. I shall return in a few days,” he said, and left.

Meanwhile, during his absence, two sadhu lads paid Ramdas a visit. One of them had a water vessel while the other was without one. The latter appealed to Ramdas to provide him with a lota since a sadhu, he added, should not go without a water vessel. Ramdas had at hand Ramcharandas’ lota. He took it and passed it on to the boy. The boys departed, the one who got the lota quite joyfully.

Four days later, Ramcharandas returned but not quite happy. Balak Ram’s society was anything but exhilarating to him.

At first sight Ramdas told him: “The lota you had, and which Ram gave you, has been taken away by Ram. What do you say?”

He blinked and then smiled, because he had held that Ramdas’ decisions were final and not to be questioned. He had always submitted without a word. He had some friends in the town among whom was a rich merchant. He visited him that very day and returned in the evening with a brass kamandal and a large cup to fit its mouth.

“How is this, Swamiji?” he said, pointing at the kamandal which he poised in his hand stylishly.

“Grand, simply grand,” replied Ramdas laughing.

Amongst the daily visitors there were two weavers. They presented Ramdas with a piece of pure khaddar. One of them who came in the evening overstayed. There was the usual kirtan. The pious weaver was so much absorbed in the music that he lost all account of time. It might have been past midnight, when he suddenly came to himself and exclaimed:

“Oh! I meant to return home early in the evening. Now my people at home will be very anxious about me, since I have stayed away for the night. I am scarcely absent from home after dark without their knowledge.”

“Well,” Ramdas suggested; “you may go home at once.”

His house was at a distance of about three miles from the hills and his way lay through the jungle. The night was pitch dark and the wild beasts freely roamed in the jungles at that time of the night. He hesitated to venture out. But Ramdas assured him safe journey provided he kept Ramnam on his tongue. The weaver, a man of faith, boldly acted upon Ramdas’ word and left the hills.

In the evening next day, he turned up and said that Ramnam had made him perfectly fearless the previous night, and he reached home without any mishap on the way.

(iii) God Is Giver and God Is Receiver

In the nights the tigers were freely roaming in the woods surrounding the cave. With a party of a select few Ramdas started the next day in quest of tigers in their caves so that he could come face to face with them. He rummaged cave after cave in the hills. Marks and traces of their close vicinity were seen, but no animals could be discovered. He dived boldly into the dark depths of the caves and shouted at a high pitch “Hari Om” so that they might come out and give him darshan! But none appeared. The quest had to be eventually abandoned.

Now Ramdas was bid by Ram to observe a fast and undertake a vow of silence. He lived for a week on milk diet. Silence on the part of Ramdas sorely affected the sadhu Bhagawan. He wanted always to hear Ramdas talk although he himself usually spoke very little. He suddenly made up his mind to bid adieu to Ramdas and the hills. He departed. Sadhus come and go according to their sweet will. They are free children of God.

During the period of silence and fast, two sannyasis visited Ramdas. One was a tall old man of over sixty. In spite of his age he had walked three miles, over the hills and through the jungle from Mahoba to see Ramdas. What love they bore for this child of God! And the other was a bright looking stout young man. He had brought with him from the town a party of devotional singers with harmonium and drums. Before starting the kirtan he remarked:

“I am not a believer in all these ways of tapasya and vows. I like music relating to the praises of God and on hearing which I go into ecstasy and it is true joy.” Some beautiful songs were sung by the bhaktas. After a meal the saint left the place.

Among the visitors was also a sadhu by name Vichitranand, a simple and child-like saint but his body was dry and emaciated due to excessive ganja smoke. He had composed some touching Hindi devotional songs which are popular in Mahoba. He lived alone in a kuti near the town. He came frequently to Gohkar Parvat.

One afternoon, quite a crowd of devout mothers presented themselves at the base of the rocks clamouring to see Ramdas. In response to their call he came down from the cave. At the sight of him they were extremely delighted. Some of them massaged his legs with overflowing love. They had brought milk and eatables with which they fed him. They remained for an hour and then departed.

Another day, two European missionaries came in search of him. They could find him out only with great difficulty. In the course of their talk they emphasized the personal aspect of God as the whole truth. Ramdas confessed his faith in a God who is both personal and impersonal. He added that one could not know the glory of the supreme Person without realising His impersonal aspect as well. They expressed doubt in the truth of his statement. Without pursuing the subject further, they took their leave and returned to the town.

Now an event occurred which caused a good deal of disturbance among the friends. One morning, as customary, Kallu, the cook entered the lower cave to bring out the vessels for cooking. The vessels, a new set of which had, a short time before, been purchased for the use of the sadhus on the hill, were kept in the lower cave which had, of course, no door. All the sadhus and friends retired to the upper cave in the nights. Now Kallu discovered that the vessels had disappeared. He ran up to Ramdas in a state of alarm and said:

“Maharaj, the cooking utensils have disappeared. Somebody has stolen them away.”

“Good,” Ramdas replied quietly, “the man who took them is evidently more in need of them than we are. It is all right. Ram gave and Ram has taken away.”

He stared at Ramdas with perfect blankness when he heard his cool words. Immediately, leaving the hills, he ran to Mahoba and spread the news of the lost utensils and Ramdas’ comment on the loss. The friends who had supplied the utensils understood what his words meant and at once substituted the lost vessels by some from their own homes for the time being. A police Sub-Inspector, who loved him greatly, used to come often to see him on the hill. He had also heard the news of the loss of vessels. That afternoon he specially came to make an enquiry into the matter. He questioned Ramdas on the subject.

“Ramji, nothing is lost or stolen,” Ramdas said. “It was Ram who furnished him with vessels. It is Ram again who has taken them back. He took away His own things. So, there is no question of loss or theft; therefore, no case against anybody.”

The surprised Inspector laughed and remarked: “If all were to follow your principle my job would be gone.”

Ramdas’ stay was now coming to a close. He had in hand three invitations, one from Chhattarpur, the second from Lalitpur from Triveni Prasad, and the third from Cawnpore from Ramchandra Gupta.

The day of departure from Gohkar was a notable day. There was a mela held on the hill in commemoration of a deceased Muslim Pir who had Samadhi close to the base of the pile of rocks. A Muslim saint occupied the cave on that day. Both Hindus and Muhammadans streamed into the place in thousands for the darshan of the saint. Fairs were held and there was great din and bustle. Ramdas along with others took the darshan of the saint. The Muslims showered their love on him by embraces.