← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER XXX

Return Journey

(i) God Is an Ocean of Compassion

By this time the roties and dal were ready. The sadhu procured some large leaves from the shrubs outside, and packing the food in them he called for the spare kaupin of Ramdas, and fastening the parcel with it, handed it to him saying:

“Go to the bank of the river, eat as much as you need and pack up the remaining food which will serve you on your way. After you have finished, I will escort you to the edge of the river where you will find a man with a raft. He will take you across. You can journey back by a new route, along the other side of the river.”

Accordingly, Ramdas went to the riverside and sitting on a stone could not consume more than a quarter of a roti and a small quantity of dal with it. The rest he tied up again and prepared to start. The sadhu took him to the raft and instructed the raftman to row him across the river. Ramdas boarded the raft and the sadhu returned to his cave. The current in the river was very strong, but the raftman was equal to it. He rowed on. In mid-stream he asked Ramdas what he was carrying in the parcel. Ramdas told him that it was dal and roti. Then, with a bright smile he said:

“I am so hungry, I shall thank you if you will give the food to me.”

Ramdas needed no asking twice and no thanks. With the greatest delight he passed on the parcel to him. Ramdas now understood that Ram wanted him to carry it for the sake of the raftman.

Ramdas arrived at the other bank. As he proceeded on the sands a few steps, he found an old man chopping a fallen tree with a hatchet, for making a post. Ramdas went up to him and sat beside him.

“Ramji,” Ramdas asked, “will you please show Ramdas the way that leads to Swargashram?”

The kindly old man stopped his work and looking up at him, said: “Swargashram is far, far away. There is no beaten track or cut-out path. You have to go from stage to stage, making enquiries on the way. Darkness is already at hand. So you cannot think of starting on your long journey now. You go by the path I am showing you. A mile uphill you will discover two houses, surrounded by cornfields. You take refuge in one of them. The people over there will gladly give you shelter for the night. Tomorrow morning you may start on your journey.”

He pointed at a thin zigzag foot-path, going up the hills in the midst of a dense growth of trees. He climbed up and, on ascending about a mile, found himself on a vast area of green fields, the mountain rising still higher in the background. He noticed two small houses, about forty yards from each other, standing in the midst of the fields. He passed through the fields towards one of them. In the front of the house there was a raised platform of wooden planks supported by stout stumps of trees. He got upon it. Beside two lads, a middle-aged man and an old man were squatting upon it. The latter two were busy mending a torn blanket. When they saw him the middle-aged man rose, and procuring from the house a black rug, spread it on the floor and beckoned him to sit on it. He sat down. He asked where Ramdas was coming from and whither he was bound. Ramdas replied that he was hailing from Vasishtashram and was on his way to Swargashram.

The middle-aged man: “You must have then met the sadhu who lives in the cave. He does not let any other sadhu stay at the place. He makes it a point to drive him away. He is harsh and cruel.”

Ramdas said: “Externally he may appear to be harsh, but he has a soft heart. God’s lila is wonderful! He plays in various ways. The sadhu fed Ramdas with dal and roti before leaving the ashram. In many ways he was kind and loving to him.”

He replied: “This is strange. We have found him far from kind and courteous. However, by the way, for the night what shall we offer you?” After a pause of moodiness, he said: “Here I have a number of cows,” pointing to a herd of cows resting in an open enclosure, facing his dwelling, “but I count it a misfortune that at the moment none of them is yielding milk, or I should be so happy to feed you with milk.”

Again after a moment’s thought, he called his son – one of the lads – and asked him to run to the neighbouring house with a pot for some milk, and spread two thick blankets on a coir cot, the only furniture in the house, and lighting up a fire in front of it, asked Ramdas to enter and occupy it. He made him lie down and began to massage his legs.

He addressed Ramdas, his heart welling up with love: “You are veritably Ishwara who has come to my humble abode. I am only a miserable samsari, lost in the whirlpool of maya. I have been crying to God to grant me peace and He has, in answer to my prayer, come to me in your form. God is indeed the very ocean of compassion and mercy.”

Ramdas rejoined: “Hare Ram, this is all your lila. Ishwara is the friend of the helpless and servant of His devotees. Ramdas is only a child of God. Thou art He indeed who is deluging him with Thy unbounded love.”

Ramdas cannot find words to express with what motherly kindness and care he tended Ramdas. His daughter aged about twelve prepared the food, his wife being no longer in the land of the mortals.

The interior of the hut was dimly lit by a log of fire. The host left Ramdas and returned with a wide-mouthed cup of hot milk and a soft roti which he minced and mixed with the milk. Meanwhile, he picked up some white things from a full basket close by and offered them to Ramdas.

“Eat them,” he said.

Ramdas pressed them between his fingers and felt them soft. In the dim light he could scarcely make out what the pieces were. Ramdas put a piece into his mouth. It was so delicious to the taste.

The host: “It is kand, a root that you are eating. It is boiled. We obtain it in these parts in plenty.”

Ramdas: “Ramji, Ramdas would prefer to eat two more pieces of this root and must be excused regarding roti and milk.”

“No, no,” he lovingly remonstrated, “you shall have both. You may do justice to as much kand as you like, but you ought to drink also milk in which I have mixed up roti.”

Ramdas had to drink milk thickened with roti as also eat some more bits of kand. Then all the inmates had their evening meal. Far into the night the happy talk of God, bhakti, prem and anand went on. The host was all the while in ecstasy.

After a couple of hours’ sleep, Ramdas awoke in the morning and started on his journey. The host was inconsolable. With tears in his eyes he appealed to Ramdas to stay with him a day longer. But Ram’s command to Ramdas to leave the place was imperative. He gave a parting embrace to the kind host when he said:

“You see higher up on the hills a small patch; it is a group of huts. Keeping the sign in view, walk up towards it. You might reach there at midday, and the hospitable people of the village will look to your wants.”

Traversing through forests and valleys, Ramdas reached the village, when the sun had risen right overhead. Here too, the villagers treated him with the greatest hospitality. After meal he set out again.

The old man of the village said: “Maharaj, you have yet to cover a distance of about ten miles. There is no footpath, nor are there any villages on the way. If you venture alone, God only should be your guide. I can only show you the direction in which you have to go.”

(ii) Ramdas’ Chat With Ram

The old man pointed out with his forefinger the direction, and Ramdas tramped on. After walking about a mile he found himself in a dense jungle, the ground being covered with dry leaves – almost knee-deep; he waded through them. He was in fact going on at random and he was in a conversational mood.

He addressed Ram: “Divine mother, it is yourself who has brought this child here to roam on these sacred hills. It is up to you to lead and guide him.”

As he walked on, he came upon a sloping hill. Here he discovered, at the edge of a cliff, a cave – a deep hollow in a rock. He peeped into it. It was utterly dark inside. He had heard that such caves were usually lairs of wild beasts. He thought that he had now an opportunity of getting darshan of Ram in the form of a tiger or lion. He jumped into the cave and shouted out “Hari Om” three times and awaited the result. None came out of the cave. It was Ram’s will that he should not come face to face with wild beasts. He came out.

There was yawning before him a deep precipice. This had to be climbed down.

“Now, Ram, what do you propose?” asked Ramdas.

“Fear not, child, descend,” was Ram’s cool reply.

Ramdas turned round and slowly lowered himself and began to crawl down. The chinks on the rough crag serving as foot-supports and hand-holds he descended. A slight slip meant a fall of over two hundred feet and certain destruction of the body. But there was Ram’s assurance. Fear had taken leave of Ramdas once for all. Slowly and steadily, step by step, he got down. The body of Ramdas seemed to be like an inflated rubber doll, so light and so buoyant. Breathing had automatically stopped. The fragile foot-supports had at times been trembling, sending down bits of stone layers through the pressure of the foot, producing by their fall reverberating sounds at the depths of the valley below. What time it took him to reach the bottom of the ravine he had no idea. It all appeared to be so short. He at last alighted at the base of the rock, quite safe. Here again he cried out at a high pitch “Hari Om,” making the giant hills all around resound with the echo.

Ramdas exclaimed: “Ram, how glorious you are! You have made Ramdas perform a most marvellous feat.”

Ram rejoined: “This is not all, more feats are in store for you, get ahead.”

Ramdas continued his journey in the cool shade of the titanic trees.

Ramdas: “O Ram, how blessed is Ramdas to be conscious of your company with him even in this lonely place!”

“My child,” Ram assured Ramdas, “you shall in future be always aware of my presence with you, in you and everywhere about you. I grant you this knowledge based upon your perfect oneness with me. You and I are one.”

Ramdas, hearing this, laughed through intense joy. Half-a-mile was traversed. Now he came to the brink of another precipice, steeper than the previous one, but with no footholds of any kind for climbing down. It was a smooth flat rock, running vertically down. Looking at it he giggled and said:

“Ram, now you are caught. Ramdas would like to know how you will tackle the problem now.”

“Soft, soft,” instantly put in Ram. “No doubt you are clever but I am more clever than you can ever imagine. Look to your right. There the ground slopes down, though the incline is sharp and slippery, try that way.”

Ramdas stepped towards it and dancing a caper or two, laughed and spoke:

“Ram, you are a brick, but it won’t do; you see the slope is not only sharp but is covered by loose earth. To put the foot on it is to slip, and Ramdas will then be rolling down like a folded mattress until he reaches the bottom; you like it, eh?”

“Ramdas, your laugh and poses are too early,” observed Ram, “you don’t seem to make use of the eyes which I have given you. Look well. On the incline, you will discover stumps of dried grass at some distance from one another. These are roots of thick reeds, and being dry they cannot be distinguished from the earth, but a close scrutiny will reveal them to you. They are strong enough to support your feet. Descend without any delay.”

Ram was right. There were roots. Ramdas accordingly, going on all fours crept down, having the dried stumps of grass as foot-rests, one after the other, until he reached nearly the end of the incline beyond which there was again a steep chasm, the incline being no longer continuous. The situation, in which he was now placed, was supremely perilous. He had arrived at about two yards from the extreme edge of the slope, and a yard down there was only a faint mark of a stump visible which could support no more than a toe. Having stopped here, Ramdas asked:

“Now, Ram, what next?”

Ram was ever ready with His cues. He piped in: “Behold, child, a twig peeping out of the depths just on the edge of the slope. It is about half-an-inch thick. Reach it by your feet, descending a yard down by the help of the small root of grass. After that you will know what to do next.”

Ramdas followed Ram’s instructions and had the twig clutched in between the big toe and the other toes of his left foot like a monkey. Certainly, here Ramdas remembered Hanuman, the great devotee of Sri Ramchandra. The body was felt by Ramdas as light as a feather. With one foot thus poised on the twig, he let go the other from the grass root. For a few seconds his whole body was balanced on one foot. Ramdas now shrank himself and doubling up held on to the twig with both his hands. All the time the slender twig was oscillating to and fro most ominously.

Here he looked down. The depth below was tremendous, but hurrah! Ram, you are a miracle-monger! The twig on which Ramdas was resting belonged to a tall tree, starting from the very base of the precipice. He descended slowly, and gradually came upon the stouter branches of the tree. Now the descent became easy, the tree was a veritable giant of the forest, a tree so tall that Ramdas had never seen the like of it before. He at last reached the bottom. Now Ram had his laugh at Ramdas’ expense. Ramdas was silent. Every time he was beaten, and Ram would have the upper hand.

Again Ramdas lighted upon a cave into which he entered and shouted out a loud outcry of “Hari Om,” but there was no response. Thenceforth, he had to pass through many a declivity, but easily. He was now running at full speed, frisking and dancing on the rocks. At last he found himself again suddenly on the banks of the Ganges. Here he had to execute a small feat on the edge of a rock projecting into the river. On the sandbank he sped on until he reached Phulchetty. In Phulchetty there was a dharmashala managed by Punjabi sadhus. When Ramdas ran towards the building, a young sannyasi welcomed him with open arms. He actually took Ramdas in the folds of his arms and embraced him heartily as if he had met a long lost brother or child.

He took Ramdas inside the dharmashala, seated him on an asan, massaged his legs for some time, and fed him sumptuously with infinite love. Ram, it is all Thy doing, Thou eternal love, manifest everywhere.

From Phulchetty, the same evening, Ramdas walked up to Swargashram, now only at a distance of two miles, which he reached before dark.