On the banks of the holy Ganga, in the
spacious campus of the Kali temple at
Dakshineswar, under the thick shades of the trees forming the Panchavati
grove, the Naga Sannyasin Tota Puri was sitting by the side of a dhuni, the
sacred fire. Near him was his pair of tongs, used for mending the burning
embers and as a weapon. His illustrious disciple Sri Ramakrishna sat facing
him. The two Brahmajnanis, the disciple and the preceptor, were engaged in a
subtle discussion on the Vedantic truths. Just then one of the gate-keepers of
the temple garden came there in search of fire to light his hookah. Seeing the
burning dhuni he proceeded to pick up a piece of burning wood out of it.
Finding him thus pollute the sacred fire, Totapuri grew wild and, picking up
the pair of tongs, ran after the frightened man, showering abuses on him. On
seeing this scene, Sri Ramakrishna burst into a hearty laugh. Totapuri was
surprised. When asked what made him laugh, Sri Ramakrishna explained that a
moment ago Totapuri was saying that the world was unreal like a mirage, but
forgetting it the very next moment he lost his temper when the 'illusory' man
touched the 'illusory' fire. Such was the power of Maya!
Commenting upon the incident in his book The
Life of Ramakrishna the French novelist Romain Rolland remarks: 'Sri
Ramakrishna laughed as only he knew how to laugh with the gaiety of a
child."1 Indeed
Sri Ramakrishna's mind was so constituted that whatever he did, he did with his
whole being. He could impart the total energy of his mind to even such
seemingly casual acts as laughing, weeping, talking, and walking. When he
laughed his whole being participated in the laughter. When he wept he would, as
it were, become one with it, every part of his body and mind participating in
the act of weeping. That is how he could so effectively transmit bliss and joy
while laughing, and sorrow while weeping. Today when we have lost the capacity
to weep freely or to laugh heartily, when our very smiles and tears have become
mere pretences and parts of social etiquette, this rare quality of Sri
Ramakrishna has a special message for us.
Sri Ramakrishna ever remained a simple child
of nature. An attempt is made here to study the significance of Sri
Ramakrishna's weeping. Every act, however small and insignificant it may
appear, of supermen like Sri Ramakrishna, who are born with a special mission,
has deeper and far-reaching implications. Weeping signifies intense agony at
the loss of, or the eagerness to attain, something dear. Sri Ramakrishna
himself has given a very
simple and straightforward explanation as to why even
incarnations have to weep. He said, 'Brahman weeps entangled in the snare of
the five elements,'2 meaning thereby that even Brahman, the
transcendental Reality, has to experience joys and sorrows, happiness and
misery, both physical and mental, when it incarnates as an embodied being possessing a physical
body made of the five elements. An incarnation is a link between the Jiva
or individual self, and Brahman, the Supreme Self. It is
through an incarnation that the individual self is able to establish contact with
the Supreme Self. Only through an incarnation, manifesting divinity through his
self-imposed limited body and mind, can a soul grasp and understand the
infinite, transcendental Spirit. Further, the incarnation fulfils an important
psychological need of a devotee. It is difficult to love an impersonal Reality,
but it is easy to approach and love It in and through a human being, possessing
human attributes and qualities. Attracted by the divine peeping through the
human veil in an incarnation, the devotee is finally blessed by attaining the
Supreme Self.
And yet incarnations are not exactly like
human beings. Even their human emotions and sentiments, weaknesses and virtues,
are not like those of ordinary mortals. There is something special about them.
They are, in fact, so unique that they should be considered as models to be emulated.
Among other things, Sri Ramakrishna's weeping also was meant to be an example
to be observed and emulated. The idea is that if at all one must weep, one must
do so as and when Sri Ramakrishna wept.
Weeping for God
It is well-known that Sri Ramakrishna used to
cry bitterly for the vision of the Divine Mother during the early part of his
life as a spiritual aspirant. Throughout the day he would remain engrossed in
such spiritual practices as worship and meditation, oblivious of the time. But
as night approached and the sound of the bells ringing in the temples at the
time of evening vesper service reached his ears, he would become conscious that
another day had passed. The thought that another day was gone without the
vision of the Divine Mother would make him extremely dejected. He would cry,
rolling and rubbing his face on the ground. In later life he used to demonstrate
to his disciples how one should weep for God.
Swami Akhandananda would recall that during
such demonstrations Sri Ramakrishna would, like a small child, throw his limbs,
roll on the ground and shed such copious tears that his garment would be
drenched. Seeing it, the Swami said, he became convinced beyond a shadow of
doubt that if anyone wept for God as Sri Ramakrishna did, he would surely get
the vision of God. God would be forced to appear before such a devotee. It is
no wonder that Sri Ramakrishna gave so great an importance to intense yearning
for God. He said time and again that if one truly wept for God even for three
days he would have the vision of God.
Sri Ramakrishna's charming sport of divine
love or lila with Ramlala is most touching. Sri Ramakrishna had obtained a
metal image of Child Ramchandra, named Ramlala, from Jatadhari, a saint of the
Ramayat sect. For Sri Ramakrishna the image was not a lifeless piece of metal,
but a conscious, Divine Child who moved, walked, talked and played with him. He
would go to the Ganga with Sri Ramakrishna for bath and, as is the case with
children, would not like to come out of the water. Once Sri Ramakrishna
'punished' him by forcibly pressing his head under the surface of water. Poor
Ramlala! He felt suffocated. Sri Ramakrishna himself regretted
this act and hugged Ramlala to his breast.
That metal image was still with Sri Ramakrishna
when his disciples started coming to him. He then used to narrate to them
Ramlala's story and his relation and sport with him. He would also speak of his
'cruelty' and Ramlala's 'suffering' and, as
he would recount, he would burst into tears. There used to be such an intensity
of feeling in these recounting of events that his devotees too felt it and
could not control their tears. We may try to understand the depth of Sri
Ramakrishna's yearning for the Divine Mother and his affection for Ramlala in the
light of our mundane human relationships, but Sri Ramakrishna's relations
belong to such high realms of divine love that we can hardly comprehend them,
leave aside actually experiencing them. But the thing becomes clear from the
study of this aspect of Sri Ramakrishna life, and that is, if at all we must
weep, we must do so only for God. Let us not shed our tears in vain.
Weeping for devotees
A devotee is, however, more interested
in his Lord's tears, shed not as a spiritual aspirant, but as his Master and
Saviour. Even after repeated visions of the Divine Mother' and being
established in constant God-consciousness, Sri Ramakrishna did not stop
weeping. But now the object and purpose of his lamentations were his beloved
devotees and their welfare, the foremost among whom was Narendranath. He would
pine to see him and would spend sleepless nights weeping for him. Sri
Ramakrishna's love for Narendranath surpasses all standards of human love in
its intensity and quality of unselfishness. It was this love which bound
Narendra to him for ever. Blessed indeed are those who are thus bound by the
Lord's love, and those for whom God himself weeps. They are like the child
whose hand is held by the father while walking. If the child holds the father's
hand there is every chance of the child's falling down if he is not careful
enough and lets go the hold. But there-is no such danger if the father takes
the responsibility of the child.
A spiritual aspirant struggling to
break the shackles of worldly relationships by cultivating detachment and dispassion may
interpret Sri Ramakrishna's weeping for devotees differently. He would be
reminded of the warning given in the Brhadaranyaka
Upanisad that your own- beloved would make you weep.3 An aspirant practising non-attachment would argue thus: 'Even Sri Ramakrishna the
God-incarnate had to suffer and shed bitter tears of agony for the sake of, and
due to attachment to his beloved ones.
Let me, therefore, avoid all attachments.'
In this context Sri Ramakrishna's agony
at the death of his nephew, Akshay, is worth noting. Sri Ramakrishna had
developed a liking for the charming boy Akshay ever since he was a mere
toddler. When in youth he suddenly died, Sri Ramakrishna at first
dispassionately observed Akshay's soul depart from his body. But later he suffered
such great anguish that he stopped even going to the house in which Akshay had
breathed his last, to avoid being reminded of him.
While this incident in the life of a spiritual giant like Sri Ramakrishna is a
warning for all dispassionate spiritual strivers to meticulously shun all
possible worldly attachments, it proved a blessing in disguise for Sri
Ramakrishna's future spiritual ministry. Had he not personally experienced such
bereavements himself he would not have been able to feel and appreciate the
loss of the bereaved householders and to console them in such an effective
manner as he did in later life as a spiritual guide. While consoling
an unfortunate old man who had lost his grown-up son, Sri Ramakrishna
once recounted his agony and confessed that in spite of remaining day and night
merged in the thought of God even he had felt excruciating pain at the death of
Akshay. What wonder then that ordinary people would feel severe pangs of
sorrow!
Suffering
in the life of incarnations of God
We have studied weeping as a mark of
intense love and attraction in the life of Sri Ramakrishna. Weeping, however,
is also an indicator of pain. We shall now study its importance in the larger
context of misery and suffering. It is significant that the life of none of the
prophets and incarnations of the world was free from misery. Rather it would be
more appropriate to say that suffering constituted a major part of their
earthly life. All great men who are born with a message for mankind have to
grapple with the problem of. suffering which is inextricably connected with
human existence. The Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi would say, 'Did the Master
come only to enjoy Rasagollas?'4 meaning thereby that incarnations are not born
only to enjoy, but to suffer also. Jesus Christ was crucified on the Cross. Sri Ramachandra
was exiled into the forest and had to live like a mendicant for fourteen
years.' Sri Ramakrishna had the painful
cancer of the throat which ultimately killed him. The Holy Mother and Swami
Vivekananda too had to bear untold sufferings.
It is not that these
personalities suffer only physical hardships. Far more painful are their mental
agonies. They are such refined beings, so pure and sattvika, that living in
this impure world is in itself a great ordeal for them. Sri Ramakrishna could
not bear to listen to worldly talks and could not mix with people of bad
character. Even meeting with devotees was not always pleasant. During samadhi
he could bear the touch of only those with exceptionally pure character. And
then there were the temperamental peculiarities of each devotee which his
unusually sensitive body and mind had to bear with. Take for example the
insults and abuses showered on him by Girish Ghosh in an intoxicated state. Or
the burning sensation felt when he sat on the bed under which Narendra had
slipped a coin to test his absolute renunciation of gold. Many such incidents
can be cited.
Why do the incarnations of God
suffer so much? It is believed that from their very birth they are conscious of
their divine, blissful nature and hence we expect that there must not be any
suffering in their life. Even if they are considered saints who have realized
God, the experience of misery in their life becomes a question mark. Scriptures
are replete with statements to the effect that a knower of Brahman becomes
Brahman and goes beyond sorrow.5 There could be various answers to this
pertinent question.
From the standpoint of a Jnani or
a man of knowledge, there cannot be any sorrow whatsoever in a man of
realization, much less so in an incarnation of God. This was the way in which,
according to Tulsidas, Lord Siva looked upon Sri Ramachandra's suffering. Siva
was not deceived by Sri Rama's wailing for his kidnapped wife Sita. Instead, he
saluted him saying 'Jai Satchidananda,'6 much to the
discomfiture of Sati, his consort. Similar was the viewpoint of Harinath, later
Swami Turiyananda, towards Sri Ramakrishna's suffering. Sri Ramakrishna was
then staying at the Cossipore garden house for treatment of his illness. The
fell disease caused him
excruciating pain which often
made him moan and cry. But Hari quite frankly told him once that he was
actually not suffering but was in a blissful state. He maintained his firm
conviction in spite of Sri Ramakrishna's repeated denials. Finally Sri
Ramakrishna had to accept that Hari had discerned rightly and that his
suffering was merely an appearance while, as the ever-free and pure
Consciousness, he was beyond sorrow.
Significance of the Lord's suffering
From the devotional point of view,
sufferings of an incarnation are considered vicarious. According to the Hindu
theory of Karma, one suffers because of one's past evil Karmas. Since divine
incarnations don't have a store of such evil Karmas for which they may suffer,
it is believed that out of compassion they voluntarily take upon themselves the
sufferings of others. Christians believe that Jesus Christ suffered on the
cross vicariously for the sinners. The Holy Mother has voiced a similar view
while explaining the reasons for her pain in the knees, the burning sensation
in her feet and other ailments. She said that she did not remember to have
committed any sinful act in her life. Moreover she was blessed with the holy
and purifying influence of Sri Ramakrishna since she was five. So her suffering
was not due to her own Karma but because of her accepting the sins of devotees.
Sri Ramakrishna's followers believe that his cancer of the throat was due to
his. accepting the sins of devotees, particularly of Girish Ghosh.
Apart
from the vicarious acceptance of suffering, which is possible only for divine
incarnations, there is a psychological method by which saints can lighten the
burden of others by mentally sharing it themselves. Once a woman labourer came
to the Holy Mother after a long lapse of time. When asked the reason for her
long absence the poor lady sadly told that her grown-up son had died. The Holy
Mother was shocked and immediately burst into loud wailing as if her own son
was dead. The other lady, the mother of the deceased, too started crying, the
combined weeping of the two mothers creating a most pathetic scene. When
finally they quietened down, the old lady was much relieved and consoled. It is
evident that by actually feeling the grief of the unfortunate woman, the Holy
Mother lightened the burden of her sorrow.
There
was yet another way in which the Holy Mother could reduce the load of her
disciple's sufferings; this may be considered a Yogic method. Once a disciple
of hers went to purchase some household items from a nearby village. He
collected all the items into a basket and placed that heavy basket on his head.
No sooner had he proceeded a few steps than he realized that the load was too
heavy for him to carry. But he was determined not to engage a porter and
continued to walk. Suddenly he realized that the load on the head had become
light and he could carry it easily. On reaching the Holy Mother's house he
found her restlessly walking up and down the courtyard, her whole body
perspiring profusely as if she was herself carrying a heavy load on her head.
He then realized that the Holy Mother had by her Yogic powers transferred his
burden on to herself.
Thus
there are three ways in which these spiritual giants bear the sins and
sufferings of others: vicarious atonement, use of Yogic powers, and by
psychologically experiencing them. To suffer vicariously is possible only for
divine incarnations. Some saints with Yogic powers may take upon themselves the
sufferings of others. Psychologically sharing the pain of those whom we love
intensely, however, can be done by even ordinary people. Even such a simple act
as praying for the welfare and happiness of all, which all of us can and should
do, is also effective in alleviating to some extent the suffering of others.
Whether or not human beings are able to share or reduce the misery of others,
this ability of an incarnation of God is a great solace for the weak,
struggling human beings. It constantly reminds the devotee of the great power
and compassion of these Godmen, which flow particularly towards the weakest and
the lowliest, towards the greatest of sinners, too weak to bear the burden of
their own evil deeds. Such persons who are often hated and shunned by the
society find shelter at the feet of these great ones. This is the reason why
the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the thorn-pricked feet of Sri Rama, and the
ulcer in the throat of Sri Ramakrishna, are the symbols of their unconditional
grace and are dear to the devotees, who meditate on these with deep devotion.
Indeed in the Bhagavata the narrator, Sukadeva, recommends meditation on
the thorn-studded feet of Sri Ramachandra: 'Firmly impressing on the heart of
those who remember him the feet pierced by the thorns of the Dandaka forest,
Rama merged into his own glory.'7
The
sufferings of incarnations constantly remind the devotees to be ever vigilant
and avoid committing such sinful acts as might inflict further pain to their
Adored Ones. Some go even a step further. They have such burning love for their
Beloved that they are not content merely to be careful not to offend him, but
wish to share his suffering and try to alleviate it to the best of their
ability. The circle of young disciples, the future monks of the Ramakrishna
Order, who had gathered round Sri Ramakrishna at the Cossipore garden-house,
belonged to this category. By their dedicated and one
pointed service they tried to reduce Sri
Ramakrishna's suffering. In doing so they proved that they were indeed the
members of his 'inner circle.'
From
the purely human stand-point this aspect of the life of an incarnation-of God
demonstrates the mental equanimity with which inevitable suffering must be
borne. Sri Ramakrishna used to quote a Bengali saying which meant, 'Let the
body feel the pain; thou, O my mind, remain in joy.'8 And in spite of such a fatal and
excruciatingly painful disease he never lost his cheerfulness and remained
immersed in the experience of the blissful state of Samadhi. The devotees
engaged in his service never felt that he was really suffering and thus were
able to leave him and go away to places of pilgrimage for short durations.
Conclusion
Let us therefore rejoice when God weeps.
There can be nothing more auspicious for mortals. It is the signal to show that
God has decided to descend and to share the joys and sufferings of his
children. How many can ascend from humanity to divinity? Only one in a million,
perchance. The only way then for the salvation of humanity is the descent of
God. And the first indication, of the transformation of the earth into heaven
is obtained when God begins to weep.
References
- Rolland R.,
The Life of Ramakrishna (Calcuttta. Advaita Ashrama, 1954) p.64.
- The Gospel of
Sri Ramakrishna (Madras: Sri Ramakrishna Math. 1985) p.777.
- Brhaddranyaka Upanisad, 1.4.8.
- Swami Gambhirananda, Holy Mother
Sri Sarada Devi,, (Madras: Sri Ramakrishna Math, 1955) p.400.
- Tulsidas Ramacarit Manasa, 1.50,3
- Quoted by Swami Turiyananda in Swami
Turiyanander Patravali [Bengali] 4th edn (Calcutta: Udbodhan
Karyalaya, 1382 B.S.) pp. 68, 236.
