← In the Vision of GodHis autobiography, book two

CHAPTER XLII

Una – Bombay

(i) The Dose of Poison

In due time, Ramdas arrived with Popatbhai at Veraval, a prominent sea-port on the Kathiawar coast. Here they stopped with a Gujarati doctor in his hospital, who took them in the evening to attend the kirtan and discourse of a saintly householder in the city. They also visited Prabhaspattan where, according to Bhagwat Purana, the Yadavas, members of Sri Krishna’s vast family, fought among themselves bringing about the total destruction of their race. Here in an extensive plain was a small enclosure in which there stood an ancient peepal tree. The fence was of iron bars fixed on low walls. In the niche of one of the walls was seen an image of Sri Krishna in a reclining posture. It was said that this was the spot where Sri Krishna shuffled off his body as the result of his being hit by an arrow from the bow of a passing hunter.

It was arranged that Ramdas should start from Veraval by a cargo brig that was bound for Una. The brig was an open boat filled with gunny bags of merchandise. It was to leave the port in the night. So early at night Ramdas and Popatbhai boarded the vessel. The season was winter. Hence the cold was severe. The cutting sea breeze blew over the boat with full force. They possessed hardly any extra clothing. They coiled themselves in the hollows between the bags and covered themselves with the single cotton cloth they each had. The boat left the shores about ten in the night. It was believed at first that the boat would reach the port Una by the ensuing morning. But for lack of wind the boat made very slow progress; morning dawned and they were still far away from the destination. Cold in the night was now succeeded by the heat of the sun. They were well-nigh fried in the sun the whole day, the boat having reached its destination past six in the evening. They had also to observe a partial fast, for they had no food to eat except a plantain each and they had even no water to drink.

At the landing place the odour of dried fish that filled the air was too much for Popatbhai. He expressed his disgust in strong terms and did not wish to take this route for return journey.

On landing they met Maganlal and another friend who had come to receive them. A six-mile walk brought them to Una. Ramdas and Popatbhai remained with Maganlal in his rooms on the ground floor of a big building, the upper floor of which was occupied by a Parsi chemist and his family. Maganlal was living alone.

The news of Ramdas’ arrival spread in the town and many people came to see him, of whom mention has to be made of a Parsi chemist, Dr. Mahadevia, a Khoja and the schoolmasters.

Ramdas had invitations to dinner from the doctor and the Parsi chemist. Their children and wives also treated Ramdas with great kindness. The Parsi chemist, a quiet, earnest and simple soul, spent most of his time in Ramdas’ company. He was so much enamoured of Ramnam that he commenced repeating it ceaselessly. One day an incident happened which tended to strengthen his faith in God.

While he was sitting with Ramdas, a travelling agent of drug-stores came to interview the chemist friend. In the course of their business talk the Parsi chemist asked the agent to supply him with a certain poisonous drug. The agent expressed his surprise that the chemist’s stock of that drug should have gone off so soon, as he had supplied the stuff, a good quantity only very recently. Then the question came up as to what was the maximum dose of the drug. Now the Parsi friend came to know that he had that day given to a patient a dose of the same drug by mistake twenty times the quantity of the maximum dose. The medicine was to be taken at seven o’clock in the evening and the talk here was going on at about the same time. The Parsi coming to realise the consequences of his oversight got thoroughly frightened and, losing no time, directly ran up to the patient’s house. But fortunately for him the patient had not swallowed the death-dealing dose of poison. He snatched away the packet of the powder and hastened back to where Ramdas sat, and falling at his feet said with great emotion, his eyes filled with tears:

“Swamiji, you have saved me today from the gallows. It is all due to your kindness.” Then he narrated the whole story.

“It is the remembrance of God that saved you, friend; the saviour is always God,” Ramdas replied.

For this lapse on his part he undertook a fast of three days during which he subsisted merely on water and Ramnam never left his lips. He also eschewed sleep at night. The Ram mantram rang on his tongue continuously.

Visits to the sugarcane fields of the Khoja friend, where he was given a cool drink of the cane juice, and to the noted shrine of Mahadev in the suburbs of the town comprised the other events of the earlier part of Ramdas’ stay in Una. Latterly he was presented to the boys of the local High School, in which Maganlal was a teacher and also to the girls of two primary schools. In all of them Ramdas delivered short speeches upon “The right conduct of boys and girls.”

While returning from the High School he joined in the game of cricket with the boys on the play-ground. When he stood up for bowling his very first ball knocked off the mid-wicket. Amidst the laughter of the lookers-on, Ramdas left the field.

In the hospital there was a post-mortem examination over the body of a young man who had died by an accident. With the permission of the doctor, Popatbhai was present at the examination. He carefully scrutinized all the internal organs of the human body. Directly it was over, he came to Ramdas and remarked:

“Swamiji, the stomach in our body is after all such a small bag that I wonder why we stuff it with so much food. The stomach, judging from its size, needs only a small quantity of food. We must be overfilling it causing it to bulge out and produce a pot belly.”

Ramdas laughed, as also the other friends who listened to his humorous but pertinent observations.

Dr. Mahadevia belonged to the Tilak school of thought. He had many a discussion with Ramdas on the question of nonviolence.

Ramdas remained in Una for over a week and his time of departure came. Popatbhai would not agree to travel by the sea route. So a bullock-cart was engaged to convey them to Veraval. They were warned that the road was very bad. The cart was half-filled with straw on the top of which was spread a thick mattress with two pillows. The sides of the carriage were fenced with loose ropes. As the cart progressed they found it impossible to assume sitting posture. The stalwart bullocks dragged the cart behind them ruthlessly over the hard, dry, rocky and uneven tract. The cart rolled on swaying from side to side, punctuated by sudden thuds and knocks. The occupants of the cart now and again bumped against each other. They had to clutch at the loose ropes of the fence for very life, lest they should be thrown out on to the road through the wide gaps on them. Sleep and rest were out of question. For all their efforts they could not retain a single position for more than a minute. They seemed to be a pair of sardines just out of the sea on the dry sands, fluttering and leaping over each other!

What with the sudden jumps of the cart and the clash of the bodies their very bones seemed to rattle in their frames. Ramdas laughed and laughed at the unique experience, and said with a great amount of truth, “Out of the frying pan into the fire.” Popatbhai was silent. The distance to be covered before they could reach Veraval was about forty-eight miles and would take not less than twenty-four hours. For an hour, at long intervals, there were four halts at the wayside villages. When there were only ten miles still left to reach Veraval, Ramdas jumped out of the cart and proposed to walk the distance and Popatbhai followed suit. At dusk they reached Veraval.

The cart arrived later; except for the loss of a pillow which must have dropped on the road, there was no other mishap. The night was spent in a small room on the third storey of a huge business house belonging to a young merchant.

Now Popatbhai who is a man of simple habits had a deep-rooted dislike for smoking. He would go about advising every smoker, who came in contact with him to give up the habit, at the same time, expatiating upon its manifold evils. But by a strange irony of fate, he was the storekeeper of bidis for Ramdas who was given to smoking! His high regard for Ramdas would not permit of his looking upon this habit of Ramdas as condemnatory. In the small room he smoked. The windows being very high and small in size, clouds of smoke gathered in the room, thick and fast.

“Ramji, the nauseating smell of smoke must be very trying to your nostrils which are unused to it,” remarked Ramdas.

“Not at all,” he replied quickly; “on the contrary, the smoke you puff out has been purifying the atmosphere.” Verily, true love sees no defects and this is the greatest quality of love!

(ii) God Does Everything for the Best

Popatbhai parted from Ramdas at Veraval since he had to return to Wadhwan city, his native place, while Ramdas boarded the B.I.S.N. steamer sailing for Bombay. The steamer started from Veraval in the night and reached the Bombay port in the evening next day. He made his way straight to Sanjivrao’s rooms where he gave an agreeable surprise both to Sanjivrao and his wife.

This time Ramdas’ stay in Bombay extended to over two weeks, and he had to go through a fully crowded programme. Hundreds of visitors from various parts of Bombay poured in to see him from early morning until late in the night, and he was kept either busy talking or entertained with sweet kirtan by the devotees who could sing. Of these a young friend, Ratnakar by name, arranged for two discourses by Ramdas in the hall of the Saraswat Association, Gamdevi. On each occasion there was a crowded audience mainly of Saraswats. The first discourse was in English on “The Goal of Life” and the second in Konkani on “Karmayoga.” The second was largely attended by Saraswat ladies.

As Ramdas spoke extempore, which he always did, the supreme bliss he was enjoying flowed out in words. At the time he found himself in a state of perfect ecstasy. He talked freely like a child before the motherly audience, for the friends and mothers assembled heard him with all love and patience.

The substance of his discourse on the Goal of Life was: The highest gift, this human life, is granted to us by God in order to realise Him – the supreme Reality – who is eternal bliss and peace. God-realisation means universal vision, i.e. to become ever conscious of our union with an impersonal, calm, pure, changeless and all-pervading existence and look upon all form and change as the expression of that Truth. This exalted state is attained by constant attunement of the mind to the single thought of the Truth through a ceaseless stream of remembrance and meditation on it. The condition of our progress towards the Truth depends upon our ardour and intensity for its attainment. When we understand the Truth as the goal of life, our approach to it becomes easy and rapid. The aim of life should not be anything short of this highest consummation of human life. Concentration of thought and effort is the first desideratum. For concentration the easiest method is the constant repetition of the divine Name. He who possesses the Name is possessed of the Truth. What has made Ramdas swim always in an ocean of bliss and peace? It is the divine Name. He is present before you, as a living example, showing the potency of the Name.”

Friends invited him to Santa Cruz and Matunga where also he had to deliver two discourses. God willed that His servant and child should thus be drawn out from obscurity into the limelight of Bombay to preach about His greatness and the glory of His Name.

In the course of his discourse at Santa Cruz, when he touched upon the golden principle “God does everything for the best,” he narrated a popular story in support of the deep truth underlying the motto.

Once a king with his minister followed by his retinue went into the depths of a jungle on a hunting expedition. Now the minister was well-known for his wisdom. He held the motto: ‘God does everything for the best’, and whenever anyone went to him for advice in his trouble, woe or misfortune, the minister would console the distressed party by inducing him to acknowledge the truth of this saying.

The king and the minister in their hunt for game separated from the followers and roamed far into the interior of the extensive forest and eventually lost their way. The sun rose to the meridian. The king was oppressed with fatigue and hunger. They rested in the shade of a tree.

“Minister” said the exhausted king, “I am sorely upset through pangs of hunger. Can you get me something to eat?”

The minister looked round and discovered fruits on the trees. Climbing up a tree he plucked a few ripe fruits and presented them to the king. The king in his haste to eat the fruit, while cutting it with a penknife, chopped off a bit of his finger. With a cry of pain he dropped the fruit and the knife, his injured finger streaming with blood.

“Oh!” he cried out. “How it pains – O minister.”

“God does everything for the best,” put in the minister quietly.

These words tended only to rouse the already petulant king. He flew into a rage and cried out:

“Fool, truce to your philosophy! I have had enough of it. While I am suffering from excruciating agony, the only consolation you can tender is: ‘God does everything for the best.’ How can this be for the best when my pain is intense and real! Avaunt, I will have nothing of you in future. Get out of my sight and never show me your face again.” The king could not control himself and rising up kicked the minister furiously and commanded him to take himself off at once. While the minister was leaving the king, he calmly reiterated: “God does everything for the best.”

Now the king was left alone. He tore a strip of his garment and bandaged his injured finger and was given to sad reflections, when two stalwart men were seen approaching him. They instantly fell on the king and bound him hand and foot. Struggle or resistance was utterly useless, as the men were sturdy giants in build.

The frightened king now asked:

“What are you going to do with me?”

They replied: “We want you to be sacrificed at the altar of our goddess Kali. It is the custom to offer to her a human sacrifice once a year. The time has arrived for it and we were on the look out for a human being and we are fortunate in having found you.”

These words of his captors thoroughly alarmed the king. He remonstrated: “Let me go, I am the king of a province. You cannot, therefore, kill me for the sacrifice.”

The men laughed and said:

“Then this year’s sacrifice is going to be unique, and our goddess will be highly pleased when she finds that we bring to her altar this time, an exalted personage as an offering. Come along.”

They dragged the victim to the Kali shrine, not far away from the spot. He was duly placed on the sacrificial altar. Things were ready for the death-blow, when the priest observing that his left-hand forefinger was bandaged, loosened it, and discovered that a portion of it was cut off. He said to the men: “This man is not acceptable to our goddess. Set him free. The goddess wants a whole man, while the man here has a defect in his body. A bit of his finger is gone. Let him go.”

Accordingly, untying the ropes with which he was bound, the men set the king free and allowed him to depart in peace.

Now the king remembered the words of the minister, uttered when his finger received the wound: “God does everything for the best” – indeed had it not been for that fortunate cut he would have by now been a dead man. He felt keenly for the ill-treatment he had meted out to his friend. He was anxious to repair the blunder by begging his forgiveness. So he rambled in the wood, called aloud the name of the minister, and at last found him. The minister was resting beneath a tree. Going up to him the king embraced him with extreme love and said: “Friend, I seek your forgiveness for the cruelty I inflicted on you. The truth of your golden saying is brought home to me.”

Then he narrated the incident of the intended sacrifice to the goddess, and how he was set free on account of the defect in his hand, caused by the knife-cut.

“Sire,” replied the minister, “you have done me no harm. So there is nothing to forgive. In truth, you have saved me. While you kicked and drove me away, you may remember I repeated the same saying: ‘God does everything for the best.’ Now in my case as well it has come true. For, if you had not driven me away, I would have been in your company when the men of Kali captured you and, when they discovered that you were unfit for the sacrifice, they would have offered me instead, since I had no such defect in my body as the one you had so providentially acquired. So God does everything for the best.”

The story produced a deep impression on the minds of the friends who assembled to hear Ramdas.

(iii) The Dance on the Head of Shiva

Durgashanker, an elder brother of Kantilal of Limbdi, resided in Bombay. He was Ramdas’ fellow student during his old life at the V. J. Technical Institute of Bombay. He and his pious wife were paying frequent visits to Ramdas at Sanjivrao’s. He proposed to take Ramdas on a trip to the noted Elephanta caves near Bombay.

Early one day, a party of about twenty persons including ladies started on the trip. Sanjivrao and Ratnakar also formed the party. They boarded a brig specially engaged for their use. As the brig sailed on the sea with an undulating movement, the friends entertained the party with choice devotional songs to the accompaniment of a hand harmonium, which they had taken with them. By noon they drew up at the landing jetty, leading to the hill containing the famous caves. On alighting they sought a quiet place for their dinner. They had provided themselves with various kinds of refreshments. After dinner they sauntered about to see the caves.

The first cave they entered, the largest one of the lot, was a spacious hall, cut out of a giant granite rock, supported on solid, beautifully carved pillars standing at short intervals. Inside the cave was a shrine having on its facing wall three compartments, each of which represented figures of images embossed in relief. The middle figure was the huge head of a three-faced god. The sculpture was exquisite. The faces bore a calm and peaceful appearance. On either side of this visage were life-size images exhibiting the same skill and mastery of art. To the right of the cave there was a reservoir of water fed by a perennial spring issuing from the side of the hill. To the left was a plain rock-cut temple with an open courtyard in front.

The party sat in the courtyard and again the singers entertained the party with their soul-elevating music. About three o’clock they went out looking for new places to be seen. Going round the hill, at its base were found many other small caves at various distances from each other. At one place descrying a big Shiva Ling in a cave-temple, Ramdas ran up in advance and mounting on the image commenced dancing on its head in ecstasy. The friends who followed later were both surprised and delighted to behold Ramdas dancing on the head of Shiva. The image was over five feet in height and three feet in diameter.

When it was nearing four o’clock they started on their homeward journey. Now the boat swayed on the waves with greater majesty, now bounded, then rose and fell. The cool evening breeze blew over them keeping them absorbed in the sweet memories of the blissful day. By evening the party reached the city.

Here Ramdas was inspired by Ram to write a letter to Anandrao of Kasaragod expressing a wish to have an Ashram in that place on the Pilikunji hill. He also suggested that it might be named “Anandashram.’

The days in Bombay passed quickly in continued rounds of bliss. The divine Name spread far and wide.