Sujanpur – Jammu

(i) A Divine Pair

Sujanpur is a large town, four miles distant from Pathankot, on the bank of a swift flowing river. Ramdas strolled up to the town in a slow and leisurely fashion. He directed his steps into the yard of a house in which lived the family of a postman of the place. The master of the house was out. His wife, as soon as she saw him, fell at his feet and begged him to be seated on a cot standing in the shade of a tree in front of the house. He complied with her request. Immediately, entering the house, she got a lota of water and a wooden seat. Clearing a part of ground in the yard, she sprinkled water over it and placing the wooden seat in position fetched from the kitchen a plate of a steaming meal for him.

“Maharaj, I am blest by your darshan. Kindly accept our humble hospitality,” she appealed turning to Ramdas, her palms joined in salutation.

Ramdas washed his hands and sat down for the dinner offered so promptly and with such love by the mother. He now remembered the words of the sadhu at the Nilkant cave about the unique love and devotion of the Punjabis.

The meal over, the master of the house turned up. What a divine pair God had united together in the person of the poor postman and his wife! – so humble, so pure and so simple. Blessed was Ramdas that he had the sight of this heavenly couple! They represented the true devotional summit to which the bhakti cult of Hinduism can raise its votaries. All the time, when both the husband and wife were engaged in their service of Ramdas, a four year old child of theirs was lying on a rug on a cot close by, reduced to a skeleton from a wasting disease. He approached the bed of the little patient, who was lying quite calm with looks that seemed to gaze into eternity.

The mother with some emotion said: “God gave this child to us, but it appears He wants him back.”

“Mother, submit to His will in all matters,” assured Ramdas. “Truly He gives and He takes away. His will is supreme and He means always well.”

The words brought tears into her eyes, and she smiled in a spirit of complete resignation to God’s will.

Some Punjabi friends, who came to see Ramdas, took him out to the bazaar wherefrom he was taken from house to house, and petted, fondled and fed by the love-struck mothers. During the four days that he remained at the place, over a dozen mothers went stark-mad over him. They deluged him with their pure and selfless love.

In the evenings, some friends would lead him to the river, where on its bank he used to sit with quite a crowd of visitors around him. Ramdas would then voice in an impassioned language the glory of the divine love. After the lapse of four days, he broached the subject of leaving the place for his long journey to Kashmir. He said that he would go on foot from village to village until he reached the destination.

Among these newly-acquired friends were municipal officers and rich zamindars. They urged him to go by rail as far as Jammu, and they would provide him with a ticket. At first he resisted their offer, as he did not wish to forego the joy of travelling on foot and coming into touch with the devotees of Punjab in the villages as he passed through them. But the friends were bent upon sending him by train and he had to yield to their loving protests against journeying on foot.

Before departing from Sujanpur, he paid a last visit to the house of the postman and spent a night with him. His wife was in ecstasy over Ramdas’ infinite kindness as she termed his wish to stay with them.

Sujanpur was not a railway station. Hence they had to catch the train at Pathankot station. Three tongas full of devotees came with him as far as the railway station to give him a send-off. Most of them were mothers, whose love was boundless. The train started about six o’clock in the morning. They provided him with a drink of fresh milk and made him sit in the inter-class with a supply of sweets and fruits. When the train began to move away from the station, the mothers’ hearts welled up with emotion and streams of tears poured down their eyes. He gave them a last namaskar and soon was out of their sight.

(ii) Depend on God and None Else

Nine o’clock that night Ramdas reached Jammu, the headquarters of the Kashmir Government during winter. Alighting from the train he made his way to the city along with the other passengers. On the way he had to cross the long bridge on the river Tawi. He was directed by one of the resident sadhus to seek a place of rest in the famous Raghunath temple. He passed the huge doorway that led into the precincts of the temple. The temple was situated in the centre of a vast compound. Till eleven o’clock there was a regular stream of devotees visiting the shrine for darshan. He took up his position on a broad open stony platform in front of the outer buildings of the compound. He selected a retired spot away from a crowd of Madrasi sadhus who occupied the platform.

For the first half hour there was a din and bustle of promiscuous talk among them. Then a quarrel started. Filthy abuse characterised the altercations that ensued. The party divided itself into two camps and a right royal battle ensued. And for over an hour there was confusion and noise. He looked on the play as an amused witness. He was taught by God to drink only the sweet juice of joy from every situation. Towards midnight the racket gradually died away, except for an occasional outburst of some choice epithets of abuse which the speaker had not been quick-witted enough to remember when the quarrel was in progress. About one o’clock everything was quiet but for the deep, sonorous snores that issued from their direction.

The following day he left the temple premises, when the day just like a new-born babe was still nestling on the soft and glowing bosom of the morning twilight. He wandered over the place aimlessly and saw hundreds of spires and domes of mandirs shooting up in the sky far above the habitations of Jammu. Truly Jammu is a city of temples.

As he roamed thus, his steps were unconsciously directed towards a temple of unprepossessing appearance. He entered the doorway and took his seat on the raised but dusty dais of a large tree in front of the temple. He observed a small group of devotees visiting the shrine with flowers and offerings. Ramdas’ mood at the time was of perfect abandon or self-surrender. His mind was in a state of complete freedom and peace in which the thoughts of the past and plans for the future were totally absent. But his observation of the external world was keen, and he enjoyed the inner calmness as of a dispassionate witness, looking on the strange play of nature revealed before him.

He saw to his right, squatted on an elevated pedestal plastered with cement, a figure – his back turned towards Ramdas – immersed in meditation. His big turban was lying bottom upwards beside him. Ramdas watched him for a while. After a short time, the devotee having finished his prayers, started to depart, his turban properly poised on his head. He descended the pedestal and as he did so, his looks fell on Ramdas and their eyes met. He gave Ramdas a namaskar which he returned and the devotee walked out of the temple.

Now it might have been about ten o’clock. He discovered a rectangular open platform surrounding the temple structure. He selected a cool spot on its right, shaded by trees, and, going up to it, lay down on the hard ground, with a portion of his only cloth spread on the floor, the rest of it completely covering his body. He would always, on such occasions, assume a curled-up posture, his knees drawn up to the face. He had hardly rested there for about ten minutes when he felt somebody uncovering his cloth from off his legs. He bounded up into a sitting posture and discovered a young man beside him.

“Maharaj” he asked, “what kind of food do you usually take? I can supply you with milk and fruits if you like. The panditji who was erstwhile here has sent me with some money so that I may present you with whatever eatables you may desire.”

“Ramdas is not particular as to what kind of food he takes,” he replied; “he can eat the usual meal of rice, dal, etc.”

“Then, will you be so good as to follow me to the house in which the panditji lives? He will be so happy to entertain you.”

Ramdas accompanied him and arrived at the panditji’s house. He was welcomed by the pandit and many others who lodged with him. They were all Kashmiri pandits employed in the Customs office. They were put up in the same house, their meals being cooked by a male servant. They had their families in Srinagar. It being summer, the heat of Jammu was oppressive and the pandits, unused to the rigours of the weather, were experiencing great discomfort from the heat. The pandit who invited Ramdas, Janakinath Bakshi by name, was extremely kind and hospitable. He was duly served with a meal so kindly provided by Janakinath.

Janakinath took a great liking for Ramdas and urged him to remain with him for some days. The young friend who brought him to the house, Jialal Dhar, became his constant companion. He was a student spending his time in Jammu, his school having closed for the vacation. He would take Ramdas out for long walks through the bazaar to the banks of the Tawi river. His love for Ramdas was so great that he moved with him like a shadow. He would also join Ramdas in his dances singing the names of God.

In the evenings, on Janakinath’s return home from office, he would have Ramdas exclusively for himself. A few days’ society of Ramdas was sufficient to make him, so to say, possessed of Ramdas. He fondled and embraced Ramdas and went into ecstasies in his presence. Thus nearly ten days passed when one night Ramdas told him, that he must be moving from Jammu to Srinagar. At this he showed signs of perturbation.

“No, Swamiji,” he protested, “you should not leave us so soon. I cannot bear the very thought of it.”

“Ramdas has stopped with you for a sufficiently long time,” Ramdas replied. “He is on his way to Srinagar. You should not detain him any longer.”

“How do you propose to go? I shall see that every obstacle is put in the way of your departure. I can prevent your getting a seat in the buses that daily run to Srinagar.” The connection between Srinagar and Jammu was maintained by bus services.

“Ramdas does not depend upon your buses. He will start on foot. They say the distance is only two hundred miles. He will travel by short stages,” Ramdas answered.

“Oh,” he cried out, “Swamiji, don’t you think of venturing on foot. The way lies through high mountains, forests and regions of extreme cold.”

“Ramdas would not mind all that. Ram, who is his master and mother, will see that he passes through the perils safely, because he goes by His will.”

“Well, if you are so determined to go, I shall see that you go by motor-bus. I cannot permit you to travel on foot, but my only wish is that you should give me the pleasure of your company for at least a fortnight more,” he appealed.

Ramdas was obdurate. Jialal redoubled his watch. Janakinath set him on to it so that Ramdas might not give them the slip unawares. However, in two or three days, a Kashmiri pandit, who was to return to Srinagar on short leave with his family, volunteered of his own accord to take Ramdas with him. Ramdas agreed to accompany him. They were to start the following day, – the previous evening he had left Janakinath’s house when he was not at home, and gone to stay with the new friend who was to be his escort to Srinagar. In the night Janakinath put in an appearance at his friend’s house. He tried his utmost to detain Ramdas for some days more, but all to no effect.

“Look here, Swamiji,” he at last said, “you are going to a cool place like Srinagar leaving me in this cauldron of boiling heat. Why can you not take me also with you? If you would not do so now, at least after reaching Srinagar you can manage to draw me up to that place.”

Meantime, a vacancy in the Srinagar office for which he was qualified had occurred, and Janakinath had applied for it and was awaiting the result with keen anxiety.