The Trivial Tribute

July 5, 2003

Srimate SrivanSatakopa Sri Vedanta Desika

Yatindra Mahadesikaya nama:

The Trivial Tribute

Poverty had them in its crippling embrace. Its cruel

manifestations were there for all to see—in the tiny,

ramshackle house with the roof ready to fall on one’s head at

the slightest sneeze, the empty shelves and almirahs with provisions

and condiments conspicuous by their absence, the hearth full of

ashes, sole remnants of the cooking fire made a full seven days ago,

the absolute lack of cheer on the face of the emaciated inhabitants

who had been starving for days and had nothing major (or even minor,

for that matter) to look forward to, the muted whimpers of children

too hungry and exhausted even to emit a full-throated cry, the

uniformly unseemly clothes the residents wore, with innumerable

patches trying in vain to join torn cloth which had served out its

life—the tell-tale signs of abject penury were only too evident

in the household. The head of the family, however, remained unaffected

by all the privations poverty could impose, and spent most of his time

in blissful contemplation of the Lord and His auspicious attributes.

He dwelt mostly in the past, constantly cherishing memories of the

glorious days spent in the company of that boisterous brat Krishna,

sharing everything from a morsel of stolen butter to the most private

of secrets, with nary a care in the world. Those were the days, filled

with youthful adventure, fun and frolic, in the bewitching company of

glorious GopAla, the epitome of mischief, whom everybody loved so

much and who loved everyone back with the same measure of wamth and

goodwill. It was unadulterated affection, prompted solely by mutual

love, without any expectations of quid pro quo whatsoever. Mere

thoughts of those fun-filled and sunny days in the company of the

youthful Yadava were enough to make one feel satiated, even if the

stomach remained unfilled and growled in hunger.

The gentleman’s wife was however a more practical lady, who

thought more about where the next day’s food was to be

scrounged from, with an army of infants to be fed. Children grew up

fast and it was indeed unseemly for grown-up girls to be clothed in

the rags they sported, for want of anything better to wear. Her eyes

filled with tears at the pitiable sight of the children’s lean

frames with hardly any fat clinging to them, their eyes full of

expectations and dreams, all of which remained in the realm of

imagination. And how long could one go on the way they had, with

square meals a thing of the distant past and even morsels difficult

to come across? It pained her to think of their helpless state, with

no light at the end of the long tunnel which seemed to stretch away

endlessly. They had borrowed from everyone possible, till there was

none to lend to them.

Racking her brains for some source of aid, she thought of and

discarded relatives, neighbours and acquaintances as likely providers

of succour. At that moment, she heard her husband’s lips

muttering Sri Krishna’s name, as he did often when he was

consumed by nostalgia and longed for the boyhood friend’s

company. An idea struck her forcefully: why not ask her husband to

seek some help from his friend Krishna, who was doing extremely well,

by all accounts? He was reputed to be quite well-off and endowed with

all sorts of riches. Even if He were to spare them a minuscule bit of

His wealth, they could eat comfortably for days together. And, if He

were all that close to her husband, He would definitely not refuse

the need-based appeal.

However, like all husbands to whom brilliant ideas have been voiced by

their better halves, SudhAma too demurred, preferring to look upon his

friendship with Krishna as something to be cherished and treasured,

rather than to be materially exploited. He couldn’t bear the

thought of going to Krishna with a begging bowl, whatever be the

current privations-not that the latter would refuse him anything, for

the bonds of friendship that bound them together were too strong to be

strained by mere requests for alms.

Much in the fashion of every wise husband, who knows what is good for

himself, having dutifully made his protest, Sudhama too fell in line

with his wife’s suggestion, albeit with extreme reluctance. It

was more the deep desire to see Sri Krishna again, rather than any

inclination to seek alms that made him agree to go to Dwaraka. Thus

He consented to go to his friend of yore and to request him for aid,

if only to enable them to keep their body and soul together.

There arose a problem—if he was to meet Sri Krishna, he

couldn’t very well go empty-handed. Even if he couldn’t

afford something valuable enough to be offered to DwArakAdeesa, he

had to carry some little thing at least, which could serve at best as

a poor substitute to what the latter was acccustomed and entitled to

be offered. His wife came to the rescue, putting together four

fistfulls of “aval”, borrowed from neighbours in an act

of scraping the barrel. With the humble offering securely bundled in

his upper cloth, Sudhama set off on the long journey to Dwaraka.

Though the city lay at a long distance from Sudhama’s residence,

the very thought and eager anticipation of meeting Sri Krishna and

the mere notion of a reunion with the best of friends kept the poor

brahmin going, without any thought of hunger, fatigue or other

incoveniences, minor and major. He walked in a trance, with his

thoughts fixed solely on Krishna and His exploits. And in no time at

all (it appeared to KuchEla) he had arrived at the bewilderingly big

city of Dwaraka.

Sudhama didn’t need to enquire the way to the Lord’s

residence—his instinct guided him unerringly to the largest and

most magnificent of palaces, like a week-old calf finding its mother

accurately in a huge herd of cows. The striking splendour of the

palace made him hesitate for a moment at its portals, mindful of his

own extremely humble appearance, in vivid contrast to the beautiful

clothes worn by even the lowliest of Sri Krishna’s servitors.

However, picking up courage, he entered and, after passing several

magnificent halls and rooms filled with every imaginable form of

wealth, reached at last the splendid abode of the Lord, brilliant

with the radiance of gems and jewelry adorning every nook and corner

of the place, where Sri Krishna was engaged in friendly banter with

Sri Rugmini, every bit equal to Him in beauty and boundless

magnificence.

Surprisingly, it never occurred to Sudhama to wonder about the sort of

reception he was likely to be accorded, for he was banking solely on a

distant, childhood friendship. He did not for a moment doubt that his

friend of yore would remain the same and would retain the same degree

of warmth He had displayed earlier, several long years ago. He never

imagined for a moment that his efforts to renew the bonds of

affection could be spurned by the rich, powerful and glorious

Krishna, who might no longer remember nor desire the company of those

incomparably low in social, economic and other status. Not for a trice

did it occur to him that his childhood friend, now the exalted Emperor

of Dwaraka, might develop a convenient amnesia, where poor playmates

of infancy were concerned. Such was Sudhama’s implicit faith in

the genuineness of the Lord’s dealings.

As it happened, every bit of the poor brahmin’s trust was

proved true, when Sri Krishna, espying His bosom friend of

yesteryears, came rushing down from His throne and locked Sudhama in

a bear hug indicative of the depth of emotion. It was indeed a scene

for jaded eyes—the all-powerful Emperor of Dwaraka embracing

intimately an emaciated brahmin who was poor as a dormouse. It

brought to memory the embrace bestowed by Sri Chakkravartthi

Tirumagan on the bestial hunter Guha. Tears of joy at the reunion

emanated from the lotus eyes of the Lord and coursed down His

beautiful cheeks—the Lord was crying unashamedly at the sight

and feel of the long-lost friend, with whom He had spent many an hour

of fun and frolic.

Reminded of His duties as a host, the Lord reluctantly disengaged

Himself from the embrace and seated the protesting Kuchela on His

(the Lord’s own) throne, washed Kuchela’s feet, weary

with treading all those miles of hard travel, with scented water and,

in an endearing gesture, sprinkled the same on His lofty head. He

personally applied sandalwood paste and perfumes on Kuchela,

affording him an exhuberant welcome fitting a rare visitor of royal

descent. It was a sight to behold, Sri RugminI personally fanning the

ill-clad and emaciated brahmin who was little more than a bag of

bones, the coat of grime from head to foot resulting from travel

doing little to enhance his already unimpressive looks. Those in

charge of protocol at the Dwaraka palace were flabbergasted at the

blatant breach of all norms of etiquette governing royal conduct and

were about to protest when the all-knowing Krishna silenced them with

a stern glance. The amazed and astounded courtiers looked on, stunned

at the good fortune of the poor brahmin seated on the exalted throne,

being waited upon hand and foot by the Lord and His Consort and the

abundantly apparent love and affection the Lord had for His

unimpressive visitor.

As is common to old friends who had been apart for long, Sri Krishna

and Kuchela picked up the threads of their once- intimate association

and began swapping nostalgic memories of the times that were, each

interrupting the other’s narrative with cries of “Do you

remember when…”. They caught up with all that had

happened to each other since their parting and were so much engrossed

in themselves that even Sri RugminI began to feel ignored and a trifle

jealous of the visitor.

It did not occur to the humble Kuchela, amidst all this uproarious

welcome, to offer Sri Krishna the humble aval that he had brought

from home; and if it did, he must have been consumed by shame at the

thought of offering the trivial tribute to the exalted Emperor. He

therefore kept quiet, whether due to forgetfulness or design, we are

unable to vouchsafe. However, remembering the old friend’s

affectionate offerings during childhood, Sri Krishna told Kuchela,

“What have you brought for me now? And why are you hiding it in

your uttareeyam instead of handing it over immediately?”. So

saying, the Lord snatched Sudhama’s upper cloth, untied the

knots, found the humble “aval” and with a cry of delight,

tossed a fistful into His mouth. Pleased beyond measure by the modest

offering, because it was brought by the devoted Kuchela with

overwhelming affection, the Lord relished it much more than all the

delicacies the palace kitchen had to offer. It afforded the

Lord’s taste buds such pleasure as had not been occasioned in a

long time, because true friends or true devotees were indeed scarce

(“sa mahAtmA sudurlabha:”). When He was about to take a

second helping, Sri Rugmini held His hand, telling Him that whatever

purpose He had in mind had been achieved with the first fistful He

had consumed. Kuchela spent a day of unalloyed enjoyment in the

Lord’s company, fed with the choicest of royal delicacies and

gourmets’ delights, enjoying the loving ministrations of the

royal couple, totally forgetting for the nonce his usual state of

impoverishment and domestic concerns involving his army of unfed and

ill-clad children.

All good things come to an end and so did the blissful visit. With

very great reluctance, Sri Krishna bid au revoir to His soulmate with

tears in His eyes, accompanying Sudhama for just seven steps in the

homeward direction, as prescribed by Shastras. Kuchela’s heart

was overflowing with the bliss occasioned by the Lord’s

uplifting company and had no place for any other emotion.

After covering quite a distance, it struck him that he had absolutely

forgotten his wife’s bidding, to ask Sri Krishna for aid. Thus

the principal mission, for which he had set out as prompted by the

better half, remained unaccomplished and he would return

empty-handed, bearing nothing but disappointment and dismay for the

family waiting for him with bated breath in eager anticipation of the

gifts he would be bearing them from Dwarakadeesa. His joy at the

reunion with Sri Krishna had been so great that he had totally

forgotten to ask the Lord for anything.

A stray thought occurred to him. True, he had not sought alms from

Krishna: but wasn’t the all-knowing Emperor perceptive enough

to appreciate his predicament and poverty? If He was, why did He not

offer His friend even a single coin, leave alone riches, to alleviate

the obvious suffering Sudhama was undergoing? Were the sweet words,

the tears of joy and the expressions of endearment all confined to

the lips, without reaching the heart and, more important, the purse?

Sudhama instantly dismissed the thought as unworthy, preferring to

focus his reflections on the boundless bliss resulting from the

reunion, which was its own reward and would sustain him till the next

meeting with the Lord, whenever that happened. True to the saying

“ParamAtmani yO rakta: virakta: aparamAtmani”, Sudhama

bothered little about matters other than Bhagavat anubhavam, totally

leaving his dEha yAtra in the hands of the Almighty.

Approaching his home, such as it was, Sudhama steeled himself to tell

his wife of his failure to garner any aid or assistance. When he drew

near, he was astounded to find that his modest hut had disappeared and

there stood in its place a palatial residence fit for royalty. Nor

were his wife and children, instantly recognisable from their

ill-fitting and torn apparel, anywere to be found. Accepting this as

one more cruel arrow from the apparently unlimited armoury of fate,

Sudhama resigned himself to the possibility of some rich man having

taken a fancy to his humble plot of land and having constructed a

mansion, after driving away the poor family with probably a pittance

as compensation. To his utter amazement, however, he found his wife

coming out of the mansion, welcoming him with open arms. And he could

hardly recognize her, for she was clad in the finest of apparel,

bedecked with glittering jewelry from head to foot. Gone were the

signs of crippling poverty and killing penury, replaced by all

outward symbols of unlimited prosperity. His children too were

obviously beneficiaries of the same phenomenon, for they looked very

much like Princes and Princesses right out of a palace.

Sudhama rubbed his eyes in disbelief, demanding an immediate

explanation from his wife for the magical transformation from poverty

to prosperity. The tale she had to tell was equally astonoshing, for

all she could recount was the sudden and inexplicable change,

miraculously converting their humble hut into a palatial mansion

filled with riches beyond imagination. It was then that Sudhama

remembered Sri Krishna’s snatching and partaking of the

trivial “aval” with great gusto. This was the fabulous

prize the Lord had showered on them in return for just a fistful of

aval, offered with all affection. Tears flowed freely from

Sudhama’s eyes, overwhelmed by the Lord’s boundless

munificence. The unlimited wealth attained suddenly and without

effort, wrought absolutely no change in the brahmin’s demeanour

or conduct, and he continued to be as happy in the mansion as he was

earlier in the dilapidated cottage. Sudhama continued his life of

blissful contemplation of Sri Krishna and His kalyANa guNAs, and in

time, attained the Lord’s lotus feet for an eternal life of

joyous service.

“Patram pushpam phalam tOyam yO mE bhaktyA prayacchati

tadaham bhaktyupahritam asnAmi prayatAtmana:”

“anyat poorNAt apAm kumbhAt anyat pAdAvanEjanAt

anyat kusala samprasnAt na cha icchati JanArdana:”

“YA; kriyA; samprayuktA: syu: EkAnta gata buddhibhi:

tA: sarvA; shirasA dEva: pratigrihNati vai svayam”

“aNu api upahritam bhaktai: mama bhOgAya jAyatE

bhooryapi abhaktO upahritam tanna mE bhOgAya jAyatE”

Srimate Sri LakshmINrsimha divya paduka sevaka Srivan Satakopa Sri

Narayana Yatindra Mahadesikaya nama:

Dasan, sadagopan

July 7, 2003

Sri:

SrimatE Gopaladesika MahadesikAya Namaha,

Dear Sriman Sadagopan Iyengar Swamin,

Thanks a lot for another superb posting. Adiyen cannot find

sufficient superlatives to properly appreciate your outstanding note,

which reminds adiyen of Mukkur Lakshminarasimhachariar Swamin's

upanyasams.

Namo Narayana,

SriMuralidhara Dasan

July 8, 2003

-

Vijay-AW

sadagopaniyengar ; Oppiliappan

Tuesday, July 08, 2003 10:53 AM

Re: The Trivial Tribute

Respected Sriman Sadagopan Iyengarji

Excellent write up ; yet another reminder to Bhakthas that what ever

we have we should develop the vairagyam and offer first to the Lord.

That is what Kuchela did in this.

Well , also it was a pleasant feeling to see this article; as only a

day before there was the the very same episode in one of the channels

which telecast's "Krishna" serial. Very rarely we get time to watch

serials. Myself and my daughter were glued to the TV and were eagerly

waiting for the scene of Sudhama meeting Krishna; but as usual the

epiosde ended at that crucial point. The characters of Lord and

Sudhamma were well portrayed and dialogues had a telling effect. One

dialogue I remember is that Lord tells Rukmani that Sudhamma is a "

Brahmagynani". Sudhamma even offers one last small bit of grain which

he found in the rice pot while searching for food ; half of it to his

wife and other half to the Lord.

Sir thank you for this wonderful prasadam

Adiyen

Vijayaraghavan V K

-

sadagopaniyengar

; ; tiruvengadam ;

Oppiliappan ; radha jagannathan ; j.srinivasan ; cs.srinivasan ;

sukanya Murali ; mythily ramadesikan

Cc: sadagopaniyengar

Saturday, July 05, 2003 3:24 PM

The Trivial Tribute

Srimate SrivanSatakopa Sri Vedanta Desika Yatindra Mahadesikaya nama:

The Trivial Tribute

Poverty had them in its crippling embrace. Its cruel

manifestations were there for all to see—in the tiny, ramshackle

house with the roof ready to fall on one’s head at the slightest

sneeze, the empty shelves and almirahs with provisions and condiments

conspicuous by their absence, the hearth full of ashes, sole remnants

of the cooking fire made a full seven days ago, the absolute lack of

cheer on the face of the emaciated inhabitants who had been starving

for days and had nothing major (or even minor, for that matter) to

look forward to, the muted whimpers of children too hungry and

exhausted even to emit a full-throated cry, the uniformly unseemly

clothes the residents wore, with innumerable patches trying in vain

to join torn cloth which had served out its life—the tell-tale signs

of abject penury were only too evident in the household. The head of

the family, however, remained unaffected by all the privations

poverty could impose, and spent most of his time in blissful

contemplation of the Lord and His auspicious attributes. He dwelt

mostly in the past, constantly cherishing memories of the glorious

days spent in the company of that boisterous brat Krishna, sharing

everything from a morsel of stolen butter to the most private of

secrets, with nary a care in the world. Those were the days, filled

with youthful adventure, fun and frolic, in the bewitching company of

glorious GopAla, the epitome of mischief, whom everybody loved so much

and who loved everyone back with the same measure of wamth and

goodwill. It was unadulterated affection, prompted solely by mutual

love, without any expectations of quid pro quo whatsoever. Mere

thoughts of those fun-filled and sunny days in the company of the

youthful Yadava were enough to make one feel satiated, even if the

stomach remained unfilled and growled in hunger.

The gentleman’s wife was however a more practical lady, who thought

more about where the next day’s food was to be scrounged from, with

an army of infants to be fed. Children grew up fast and it was indeed

unseemly for grown-up girls to be clothed in the rags they sported,

for want of anything better to wear. Her eyes filled with tears at

the pitiable sight of the children’s lean frames with hardly any fat

clinging to them, their eyes full of expectations and dreams, all of

which remained in the realm of imagination. And how long could one go

on the way they had, with square meals a thing of the distant past and

even morsels difficult to come across? It pained her to think of their

helpless state, with no light at the end of the long tunnel which

seemed to stretch away endlessly. They had borrowed from everyone

possible, till there was none to lend to them.

Racking her brains for some source of aid, she thought of and

discarded relatives, neighbours and acquaintances as likely providers

of succour. At that moment, she heard her husband’s lips muttering Sri

Krishna’s name, as he did often when he was consumed by nostalgia and

longed for the boyhood friend’s company. An idea struck her

forcefully: why not ask her husband to seek some help from his friend

Krishna, who was doing extremely well, by all accounts? He was reputed

to be quite well-off and endowed with all sorts of riches. Even if He

were to spare them a minuscule bit of His wealth, they could eat

comfortably for days together. And, if He were all that close to her

husband, He would definitely not refuse the need-based appeal.

However, like all husbands to whom brilliant ideas have been voiced by

their better halves, SudhAma too demurred, preferring to look upon his

friendship with Krishna as something to be cherished and treasured,

rather than to be materially exploited. He couldn’t bear the thought

of going to Krishna with a begging bowl, whatever be the current

privations-not that the latter would refuse him anything, for the

bonds of friendship that bound them together were too strong to be

strained by mere requests for alms.

Much in the fashion of every wise husband, who knows what is good for

himself, having dutifully made his protest, Sudhama too fell in line

with his wife’s suggestion, albeit with extreme reluctance. It was

more the deep desire to see Sri Krishna again, rather than any

inclination to seek alms that made him agree to go to Dwaraka. Thus

He consented to go to his friend of yore and to request him for aid,

if only to enable them to keep their body and soul together.

There arose a problem—if he was to meet Sri Krishna, he couldn’t very

well go empty-handed. Even if he couldn’t afford something valuable

enough to be offered to DwArakAdeesa, he had to carry some little

thing at least, which could serve at best as a poor substitute to

what the latter was acccustomed and entitled to be offered. His wife

came to the rescue, putting together four fistfulls of “aval”,

borrowed from neighbours in an act of scraping the barrel. With the

humble offering securely bundled in his upper cloth, Sudhama set off

on the long journey to Dwaraka.

Though the city lay at a long distance from Sudhama’s residence, the

very thought and eager anticipation of meeting Sri Krishna and the

mere notion of a reunion with the best of friends kept the poor

brahmin going, without any thought of hunger, fatigue or other

incoveniences, minor and major. He walked in a trance, with his

thoughts fixed solely on Krishna and His exploits. And in no time at

all (it appeared to KuchEla) he had arrived at the bewilderingly big

city of Dwaraka.

Sudhama didn’t need to enquire the way to the Lord’s residence—his

instinct guided him unerringly to the largest and most magnificent of

palaces, like a week-old calf finding its mother accurately in a huge

herd of cows. The striking splendour of the palace made him hesitate

for a moment at its portals, mindful of his own extremely humble

appearance, in vivid contrast to the beautiful clothes worn by even

the lowliest of Sri Krishna’s servitors. However, picking up courage,

he entered and, after passing several magnificent halls and rooms

filled with every imaginable form of wealth, reached at last the

splendid abode of the Lord, brilliant with the radiance of gems and

jewelry adorning every nook and corner of the place, where Sri

Krishna was engaged in friendly banter with Sri Rugmini, every bit

equal to Him in beauty and boundless magnificence.