Himalayas – Vasishtashram

(i) Upon the Precipitous Rock

Now, they set out on the journey, trusting solely in divine guidance. At first a shopman pointed out the direction they had to take. They passed through several fields and then waded past the thick growth of a jungle. As they emerged from it they came upon the bank of the Ganges. Here they met a cultivator who directed them to proceed along the river bank. At the same time, he also warned them that there was no beaten track to Vasishtashram and that, without a guide who knew the route, it would not be possible for them to reach the place. The distance to be covered was over twenty miles. God was their guide. They went forward.

The bank of the Ganges was strewn with big boulders, and they had to pass over these stones by jumping from one to another. They trod on thus for about three miles, when they came face to face with a sloping projection of a hill or headland at the edge of the river. So, here, further progress was cut off. They had then to climb the mountain to their left and pass through a labyrinth of trees, shrubs and creepers for about a mile. Then after a short descent they came again in sight of the river bank. While journeying over the mountain, they had to traverse through a tract called Brahmapuri which they did not notice at the time. On the banks they continued their journey again skipping from boulder to boulder. They went on like this for about two miles.

Here an accident happened which partly disabled Bhavanishankerrao. The jumping feat sprained his ankle. So he began to slow down. Ramcharandas kept him company, whereas Ramdas was running in advance. Ramdas stopped at a spot where further progress was again cut off, as in the last instance. But the promontory this time was not a slope. It was an upright precipitous rock with slight ridges on the flat surface, facing the river. The mountain forming this rock was shooting straight up to a great height; so there was no means of climbing it sideways. The only path was to crawl along the brink of the rock, trusting hands and feet on the uneven furrows upon the vertical surface of the menacing cliff. Down below was rushing in high current the Ganges. A slight slip from the rock meant a fall into the foaming eddies of the river.

This was the situation that confronted him. After waiting for about half-an-hour, he was joined by the two friends. The condition of Bhavanishankerrao’s foot was bad, and he was suffering from great pain. They discovered the danger and difficulty in the way of further progress. Ramcharandas suggested that the only alternative left was to return, and Bhavanishankerrao gave his silent vote in favour of the proposal. But Ramdas had to obey the will of Ram which was that he should brave the perilous path. He told the friends of this decision. Ramcharandas was against it and declared that it was sheer madness to venture upon an inaccessible path. Ramdas had no argument to offer. He only replied that the inner call of Ram was insistent and he must obey it, madness or no madness.

While Ramcharandas was still expostulating, three mountaineers, two men and one woman, were seen creeping along the same precipice towards them, coming from the opposite direction. After they had crossed over, Ramdas started up and was about to proceed towards the fascinating rock, when the mountaineers shouted:

“Beware, don’t attempt the feat because we could do it. We are hill-people trained to such climbing from our childhood. Your case is different. You run a grave risk. Be advised. Don’t, for God’s sake, be fool-hardy and throw away life.”

“Swamiji,” Ramcharandas spoke again, “what the man says is perfectly right; do please give up the idea.”

Ramdas, feeling amused by this talk, coolly replied. “Well Ram, did you not observe that the feat was successfully accomplished by a woman while God has made us men and we hesitate?”

At this pointed remark Ramcharandas flared up. His mettle was roused and the boy retorted: “You know, for myself I don’t mind casting my lot with you, but what of Bhavanishankerrao? You are aware that as his foot is not all right he cannot make the venture.”

Ramdas was adamant. He was urged on from within. He could not withstand the stern command. He rushed to the precipice. His nimble body mounted the rock. His fingers held on to the slits on the rock; his toes rested on the cracks, his breath suspended, he crept on and on – a tense ten minutes’ job and he was on the other side, at the top. He could see the two friends sitting on the sands on the opposite side. He now wildly beckoned them to follow him. Ramcharandas suddenly disappeared from his view. He was making the attempt – ten minutes, and Ramcharandas was beside him. But Bhavanishankerrao was still where he was sitting. Surely he too would have come up had his foot been sound. Now Ramdas realised the situation. To leave Bhavanishankerrao alone, maimed as he was, and that too half-way in a strange place, was not proper. He was unused to such adventures.

Now, turning to Ramcharandas, Ramdas said: “Ram, Bhavanishankerrao cannot be left behind alone with a sprained foot. You ought to return to him and escort him back to Swargashram. As for Ramdas, there is no retracing; he must proceed in search of Vasishtashram. It depends upon Ram if you will ever see him again. He is going to lose himself in the bewildering maze of the Himalayan hills and forests.”

Ramcharandas had to retreat. He joined his companion on the other side and both together started back to Swargashram. Ramdas was now alone. It must always be understood that Ram ever kept him company. He ran on, dancing on the banks of the Ganges. He rounded a curve of the bank and rushed on for about half-a-mile only to meet again another headland. He looked aloft and discovered about fifty feet uphill a hollow – a wide gaping cavity in the hill. To cross the hill at the sharp edge of the river was out of the question. He now ascended the slope on all fours, and creeping up like a mouse came to the hollow. It was a shallow cave. On entering it he found that he could just stand erect in it. In the interior at its roof was a huge honeycomb. He found thousands of bees humming around their picturesque abode. The sweet music of their buzz filled the cave. He listened to it for a time in rapture. Emerging, he looked at the prospect. The giant rock to be traversed in front was very smooth and slippery. It extended over a hundred yards. What was to be done? Ramdas spoke:

“Ram, now it seems to be Thy will that Ramdas should not visit Vasishtashram, although it was by Thy will he started on this adventure. What does it matter to Ramdas if he should not? He will return by the way he came.”

He felt no sense of disappointment. He climbed down to the bank of the Ganges, and turning back kept running close to the water-side. He had not gone fifty yards when he came upon a sight which arrested his further progress. A human skeleton was lying before him at the edge of the waters. From its size it appeared to be of a boy, still in his teens. It was a fresh skeleton and the natural gloss was still on the bones. Except for a few patches of skin and hair on its skull, the rest of it was clean stripped off all flesh.

Hitherto silent, Ram now addressed Ramdas:

“Ramdas, do you see the skeleton – a mere inert mass of bones? Your body too is made of the same stuff and a similar fate awaits it. The body is a transient, perishable thing. You have no reason whatever to be proud of it. The only purpose for which it is granted to you is to utilise it for My service, until it falls off and is reduced to the same condition as this worthless skeleton.”

Ramdas took the lesson. Ram is the greatest teacher of the world. As occasions require He would assume any part he chooses. He is a consummate actor and a master of all arts.

(ii) You Are in the Hands of God

Now Ramdas further retraced his steps and neared the precipitous rock where he had separated from the two friends. As he was making for it, a voice called from the river-side. He halted and saw two mountaineers (certainly, it was Ram in those forms) filling their pitchers with water at the river. One of them came towards him and enquired whither he was going. Ramdas told him that he wanted to visit Vasishtashram, but since Ram had not shown him the way he was returning. Ram’s ways are wonderful!

The man said: “Vasishtashram is still far away. There is no path by the bank of the river. You have to climb the tall mountain in front. Thereon you see a foot-path in the midst of the jungle. You must take it. On reaching the top, you should descend to the other side where you will observe from a distance the dome of a mandir. Taking it as your mark, you should proceed towards it, and you will reach Shivapuri, a small village in which the temple stands.”

He pointed again to the foot-track; a thin streak of it could be seen on the high mountain. Ramdas at once ran on to it. Up and up he climbed. It was a steep ascent, but Ramdas did not stop even to take breath. The divine power in him had gifted him with marvellous agility and unusual endurance. An hour’s walk brought him to the summit wherefrom he could observe the dome of the mandir referred to by the mountaineer. Here commenced the descent. It must be noted that the mountain was covered with a dense forest. On occasions he had to wriggle through the mazy growth of shrubs and trees. He ran down the incline at full speed. At the bottom he met again the welcome river. He drank to his fill its nectar-like water, and proceeded to Shivapuri which was now close by.

Ramdas found in the village, besides the temple, only about five or six huts of cultivators. One of the cultivators, seeing him, invited him to his hut. Ramdas entered and sat on a mat spread out for him. He beheld a bonny baby playing near a grinding stone. He got the baby at once on his lap and began to fondle and laugh with it. The cultivator and his wife were tenderly watching him as though a new child had come to them to play with theirs. Now he told them that he was on his way to Vasishtashram. Both of them gazed at him with wonder. He was not only alone but had nothing with him except his long coat of khaddar, a cheap sweater as underwear (which he handed to the cultivator friend before leaving the place) and a piece of blanket.

“Look here, sadhuji,” the cultivator said, “it is getting dark (it was then about half-past-six, evening, when Ramdas reached the village); you may occupy the temple for the night. My wife will send you some khichadi. As for your trip to Vasishtashram I do not know what to tell you. There is no proper route to it, and without a guide you cannot dream of reaching it. I know people of your sort cannot be persuaded to give up the venture. So I would tell you this much. Go along the bank for about two miles and you will see on the opposite side of the river a projecting group of trees bending over the river. Mark this spot. Just facing this clump of trees, on your side of the hill, you will discover a footpath. Here, abandoning the river bank, take to the footpath and climb up the hill. Further, how shall I instruct you? You are in the hands of God and He will see to it.”

With these words he accompanied Ramdas to the mandir where he left him. In due course the khichadi came. It tasted heavenly for it was full of prem – love.

The interior of the temple was about seven feet square. Its spire rose high up in the air. The whole structure was built on a raised stone platform. The doors were open. The last streaks of light of the dying day entering the temple displayed to Ramdas’ view a number of small brass images of God on a low, wide stool, standing against the back wall of the temple. On the wall, over the images, on two pegs was also hanging a coarse red Kashmir shawl. As evening approached cold had set in. Ramdas spread the blanket he had brought with him on the floor, and removing the temple shawl covered himself with it and lay down. Indeed, the divine Mother of the universe is ever watchful to protect Her children. No sooner had Ramdas closed his eyes than he heard somebody stepping into the temple. Ramdas opened his eyes and sat up to find a man sitting before him. In the dim light the features were not visible.

“I am the pujari of this temple,” he introduced himself. He scrutinised Ramdas closely, then touched and felt the shawl, and then looking at the pegs on the wall he exclaimed:

“So you have taken the shawl. It belongs to Thakurji,” – meaning God.

Ramdas then put him a simple question: “Can you show Ramdas where your Thakurji is?”

At once he cried out: “I beg your pardon, blind fool that I am. You are He, you are He. You have every right to use it, Maharaj.” Instantly, he was all kindness and love. He further said: “May I get you something to eat? I have food ready in my house. It will be no small joy for me to feed you. Pray accept my humble fare.”

“Ramji,” Ramdas replied, “Ramdas has already had his meal. Thanks for your kindness. You are Ramji indeed.” He then left Ramdas.

Ramdas, rising early next morning, left Shivapuri and proceeded on his journey along the river bank. The sign pointed out by the cultivator was missed. About three miles’ tramp brought him to a spot where further journey was cut off. He attempted a cliff, but had to give it up, for it was too steep and had absolutely no supports. He stopped and spoke to Ram:

“Ram, you are playing a funny game with Ramdas. Do as you will. Ramdas returns. If he were asked why he did not reach Vasishtashram, he would plainly say that you fooled him and sent him back half-way.” It was all Ram’s will – Ram’s play.

Once again, Ramdas retraced his steps and by about nine o’clock reached Shivapuri again. He had no prompting to go to the village and so continued his journey. He passed the river-bank by the village but had not gone a few yards, when he met two mountaineers, forms of Ram – all forms are His – coming towards him from the opposite direction with two empty kerosene tins tied to their backs. They were tall young men. They saluted him “Ram, Ram” and questioned him as to where he was going and what he was about. He explained to them his object of visiting Vasishtashram, how it was thwarted and of his final retreat to the plains.

Now one of them said: “Turn back again: we are going with you, our way also lies towards Vasishtashram. We can escort and guide you along.”

Ram, what a fast and loose player you are! The friends were quick trampers accustomed to hill climbing. So they thought it would be as well to make Ramdas walk before them so that he might not lag behind. But the power of God was tingling in Ramdas’ veins. He skipped, danced and ran. The friends followed as best as they could. Now began an ascent on the hills. Here again his speed was as fast as ever. He was running up like a squirrel. After covering some height he halted and looked back. The two friends were still about forty or fifty yards behind, tearing along in hot pursuit. They waved their hands and hallooed him to stop. They came up to him gasping for breath, and peering at him with a curious twinkle in their eyes said:

“You are not an ordinary fellow. You well-nigh knocked the wind out of us. No good to have you in front. Henceforth you shall follow us.” At this, Ramdas could not resist laughing, in which they heartily joined. So he had to go behind them. The gallop was now reduced to a trot, and when close to their back he would jump like an India-rubber ball. The play of shakti in him was irresistible.

At about one o’clock in the afternoon, the party reached the summit of a high mountain where there was a long narrow hut, peopled by cultivators and their cattle. The sun was hot and so the friends proposed to have some rest at this place. In a small outer hut Ramdas was asked to sit on some hay which was spread on the floor. The friends went inside the large hut and prepared, from the provisions supplied by the hospitable dwellers of the hut, meals consisting of rice, vegetable curry and curds. When things were ready he was asked to join them, and he had a refreshing dinner. It was the fare of the gods of which he partook there, so simple, clean and delicious. Altogether, after an hour’s rest, he continued the journey with the two friends again. Now the path was through brambles, heaps of dry leaves and a network of trees and creepers. It was a gradual descent and at about six o’clock the trio sighted the river-bank again. One of them said: “We are now very near to the Vasishta cave.”

“Where? Where?” cried Ramdas in irrepressible glee. They came on the bank. “There,” pointed the finger of the friend towards the yawning mouth of the cave at some distance. Now Ramdas could not resist; he rushed in the direction like wind leaving the friends behind. At the entrance of the cave he found standing a tall thin sadhu, wearing only a kaupin. Ramdas had been told by the friends, who guided him, that the cave was occupied by a mahatma.

Directly he saw the sadhu, he ran towards him and prostrated at his feet. The sadhu did not seem to like this mode of salutation. He remonstrated by the gesture of his hands. He entered the cave and Ramdas followed him. It was a large and spacious cave about ten feet high and fifteen feet wide and twenty feet long. As Ramdas stepped in he observed at the left-hand corner a number of tins arranged in a line. The floor was covered at the front by two gunny bags and by a wide, white quilt at the further end which served as the sadhu’s seat. In the centre of the cave there was a small fire-place or dhuni. At the mouth of the cave, on the right, there was a neatly stacked pile of firewood. Ramdas sat down on one of the gunny bags and the sadhu occupied his seat. By this time the friends who guided him also arrived. They remained for a few minutes and then taking leave departed. Ram after all brought His child to the ashram.