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OM NAMAH SIVAYA

 

i received this article on Ramakrishna from Exotic Indian....

 

===================================================

Healing Through Faith and Love - A Case Study of Sri Ramakrishna

===================================================

 

It is a little known fact that actors in Bengali theatre, prior

to entering the stage, bow down before the image of an unshaved,

rustic-looking, middle-aged man, who is now unofficially the

patron deity of all dramatic performance in the region. It

becomes all the more intriguing when we realize that the

gentleman in question was an unlettered individual who was never

formally related to theatre and saw only a few plays during his

own lifetime.

 

The story of how this came to be about begins on February 28,

1844, with the birth of a boy named Girish at Calcutta. Girish

lost his mother when he was eleven and his father at fourteen.

>From his boyhood, he was a voracious reader but left school since

he found the formal atmosphere detrimental to the process of

learning. Without the restraining hand of a loving guardian,

Girish's life drifted into drunkenness, debauchery, waywardness

and obstinacy. He had to earn his living through a succession of

office jobs, which he found thoroughly boring. His spare time was

devoted to the theatre, both as playwright and performer. He was,

in fact, a bohemian artist. An early marriage proved unable to

stabilize his lifestyle and his wife passed away when he was

thirty. Thus did he lose his mother in childhood, father in

boyhood and wife in early manhood.

 

For the next fifteen years he worked in various capacities in

different offices. He continued to indulge his appetites but also

remained devoted to writing and acting. In his late thirties, he

had already begun to be recognized as the father of modern

Bengali drama. He was single-handedly revitalizing the revival of

theatre by producing a vast body of dramatic work in the Bengali

language, and at the same time was molding the first generation

of actors and actresses by leading from the front; in fact, such

was his versatility that he often played two or three roles in

the same play. In 1883, the Star Theatre was opened in Calcutta

with his money; this later developed into an active center for

the evolution of Bengali drama.

 

In Girish's case, talent and licentiousness gradually achieved a

state of peaceful co-existence. He himself sized up his

personality as follows: 'from my early boyhood I was molded in a

different way. I never learned to walk a straight path. I always

preferred a crooked way. From childhood it had been my nature to

do the very thing I was forbidden to do.'

 

Skepticism

 

The course of Girish's tumultuous life continued till he read one

day about a holy personality who was living in the famous shrine

of Goddess Kali (Dakshineshwar) near Calcutta.

 

A skeptical Girish, without ever having met the sage, concluded

that he was probably a fake. However, soon after he heard that

the guru would be visiting his neighborhood and decided to see

him firsthand. It was nearing sunset when Girish reached the

place, and lamps were being brought into the room. Yet the

ascetic kept asking, "Is it evening?" This confirmed Girish's

earlier opinion, 'what pretentious play-acting, it is dusk,

lights are burning in front of him, yet he cannot tell whether it

is evening or not' thus murmuring under his breath and not

recognizing the saint's super conscious stage, he left the

premises. Thus was the first impression of Girish Chandra Ghosh,

the father of modern Bengali theatre, regarding Sri Ramakrishna,

the beloved saint and priest of one of India's most renowned Kali

temples.

 

Some years later, Girish saw the holy man again, at the house of

a common acquaintance. In his own words: 'after reaching there, I

found that the sage had already arrived and a dancing girl was

seated by his side and singing devotional hymns. Quite a large

gathering had assembled in the room. Suddenly my eyes were opened

to a new vision by the holy man's conduct. I used to think that

those who consider themselves param-yogis or gurus do not speak

with anybody. They do not salute anybody. If strongly urged they

allow others to serve them. But his behavior was quite different.

With the utmost humility he was showing respect to everybody by

bowing his head on the ground. An old friend of mine, pointing at

him, said sarcastically: "The dancing girl seems to have a

previous intimacy with him. That's why he is laughing and joking

with her." But I did not like these insinuations. Just then,

another of my friends said, "I have had enough of this, let's

go."' Girish went with him. He had half wanted to stay, but was

too embarrassed to admit this, even to himself.

 

Lessons in Humility

 

Only a few days after this, on September 21, 1884, the saint and

some of his devotees visited the Star Theatre, to see a play

based on the life of the great Vaishnava devotee Shri Chaitanya,

authored and directed by Girish. The latter reminisced: 'I was

strolling in the outer compound of the theatre one day when a

disciple of Sri Ramakrishna came up to me and said: "The guru has

come to see the play. If you will allow him a free pass, well and

good. Otherwise we will buy a ticket for him." I replied: "He

will not have to purchase the ticket. But others will have to."

Saying this, I proceeded to greet him. I found him alighting from

the carriage and entering the compound of the theatre. I wanted

to salute him, but before I could do so he saluted me. I returned

his greeting. He saluted me again. I bowed my head and he did the

same to me. I thought this might continue forever, so I let him

perform the last salute (which I answered mentally) and led him

upstairs to his seat in the box.'

 

This was Girish's third meeting with Ramakrishna; but his

intellect continued to refuse to accept another human being as a

guru. This is how he reasoned: 'after all, the guru is a man. The

disciple also is a man. Why should one man stand before another

with folded palms and follow him like a slave? But time after

time in the presence of Sri Ramakrishna my pride crumbled into

dust. Meeting me at the theatre, he had first saluted me. How

could my pride remain in the presence of such a humble man? The

memory of his humility created an indelible impression on my

mind.'

 

Three days later, Girish was sitting on the porch of a friend's

house when he saw Ramakrishna approaching along the street: 'No

sooner had I turned my eyes towards him than he saluted me. I

returned it. He continued on his way. For no accountable reason

my heart felt drawn towards him by an invisible string. I felt a

strong urge to follow him. Just then, a person brought to me a

message from him and said: "Sri Ramakrishna is calling you." I

went. He was seated with a number of devotees around him. As soon

as I sat down I asked the following question:

 

"What is a guru?"

 

"A guru is like the matchmaker who arranges for the union of the

bride with his bridegroom. Likewise a guru prepares for the

meeting of the individual soul with his beloved, the Divine

Spirit." Actually, Sri Ramakrishna did not use the word

matchmaker, but a slang expression, which left a more forceful

impression. Then he said: "You need not worry, your guru has

already been chosen."

 

Girish, however, was a complex personality: a mixture of shyness,

aggression, humility and arrogance. Although in one corner of his

heart he did believe that Ramakrishna was the guru who he had

hoped for, another part of his old self revolted against the

idea. On December 14th of the same year, the playwright was in

his dressing room when a devotee came up to inform him of

Ramakrishna's arrival. "All right," Girish said rather haughtily,

"take him to the box and give him a seat."

 

"But won't you come and receive him personally?" The devotee asked.

 

"What does he need me for? " said the annoyed Girish.

Nevertheless, he followed the disciple downstairs. At the sight

of Ramakrishna's peaceful countenance Girish's mood changed. He

not only escorted the saint upstairs but also bowed down before

him and touched his feet. Later Girish said: 'seeing his serene

and radiant face, my stony heart melted. I rebuked myself in

shame, and that guilt still haunts my memory. To think that I had

refused to greet this sweet and gentle soul! Then I conducted him

upstairs. There I saluted him touching his feet. Even now I do

not understand the reason, but at that moment a radical change

came over me and I was a different man.'

 

The Transforming Power of Faith

 

'Soon he started conversing with me. He spoke of several things

while I listened longingly. I felt a spiritual current passing,

as it were, through my body from foot to head and head to foot.

All of a sudden Sri Ramakrishna lost outer consciousness and went

into ecstasy, and in that mood he started talking with a young

devotee. Many years earlier I had heard some slandering remarks

against him, made by a very wicked man. I remembered those words,

and at that moment his ecstasy broke and his mood changed.

Pointing towards me, he said, "There is some crookedness in your

heart." I thought, 'Yes indeed. Plenty of it - of various kinds."

But I was at loss to understand which kind he was particularly

referring to. I asked, "How shall I get rid of it?Have faith,"

Shri Ramakrishna replied.

 

On another occasion when Ramakrishna offered Girish a spiritual

discourse, the latter stopped him short saying: "I won't listen

to any advice. I have written cartloads of it myself. It doesn't

help. Do something that will transform my life." Girish had a

writer's skepticism about the authority of the written word.

Ramakrishna was highly pleased to hear his view and asked a

disciple to sing a particular song whose words went like this:

"Go into solitude and shut yourself in a cave. Peace is not

there. Peace is where faith is, for faith is the root of all." At

that moment Girish felt himself cleansed of all impurities and

doubts: 'my arrogant head bowed low at his feet. In him I had

found my sanctuary and all my fear was gone.'

 

Girish's faith however required constant strengthening; years of

suffering and torment had damaged it severely. In a later meeting

he again directed the question to Ramakrishna:

 

"Will the crookedness of my heart go?"

 

"Yes it will go."

 

Girish repeated the question and received the same reply. The

process was replayed twice until one of the other disciples

reprimanded Girish: "Enough. He has already answered you. Why do

you bother him again?" The theatre veteran turned towards the

devotee to rebuke him since no one who dared criticize him ever

escaped the lash of his tongue. But he controlled himself

thinking: 'my friend is right. He who does not believe when told

once will not believe even if he is told a hundred times.'

 

Venerating with Poison

 

One night, while Girish was in a brothel with two of his friends,

he felt a sudden desire to see Ramakrishna. Despite the lateness

of the hour he and his friends hired a carriage to Dakshineshwar.

They were very drunk and everyone was asleep. But when the three

tipsily staggered into Ramakrishna's room, he received them

joyfully. Going into ecstasy, he grasped both of Girish's hands

and began to sing and dance with him. The dramatist thus

described his feelings: 'here is a man whose love embraces all -

even a wicked man like me, whose own family would condemn me in

this state. Surely, this holy man, respected by the righteous, is

also the savior of the fallen.'

 

Girish, however, was not always so pleasant when drunk. Once at

the theatre he publicly abused Ramakrishna, using the coarsest

and most brutal words. All those present were shocked and advised

the sage to sever all links with the playwright.

 

It is interesting to read what Girish himself says about this

incident:

 

'Although I had come to regard Sri Ramakrishna as my very own,

the scars of past impressions were not so easily healed. One day,

under the influence of liquor, I began to abuse him in most

unutterable language. The devotees of the master grew furious and

were about to punish me, but he restrained them. Abuse continued

to flow from my lips in a torrent. Sri Ramakrishna kept quiet and

silently returned to Dakshineshwar. There was no remorse in my

heart. As a spoiled child may carelessly berate his father, so

did I abuse him without any fear of punishment. Soon my behavior

became common gossip, and I began to realize my mistake. But at

the same time I had so much faith in his love, which I felt to be

infinite, that I did not for a moment fear that Sri Ramakrishna

could ever desert me.'

 

A common friend reminded Ramakrishna of the story of the serpent

Kaliya, who, while battling Krishna, spewed enormous quantities

of venom and said: "Lord you have given me only poison, where

shall I get the nectar to worship you?" Similarly, Girish too had

worshipped Ramakrishna with abuse, which was in accordance with

his nature.

 

Ramakrishna smiled and immediately asked for a carriage to go to

Girish's house, where he found the latter repentant. Seeing the

guru, Girish was overwhelmed. He said, "Master if you had not

come today, I would have concluded that you had not attained that

supreme state of knowledge where praise and blame are equal, and

that you could not be called a truly illumined soul." On another

occasion Ramakrishna had told Girish: "You utter many abusive and

vulgar words; but that doesn't matter. It's better for these

things to come out. There are some people who fall ill on account

of blood poisoning; the more the poisoned blood finds an outlet,

the better it is for them. You too will be purer by the day. In

fact, people will marvel at you."

 

Binding Through Freedom

 

One night, Girish drank himself into unconsciousness at the house

of a prostitute. In the morning, he hastened to visit

Ramakrishna. He was full of remorse but had not neglected to

bring a bottle of wine with him in the carriage. On arriving at

Dakshineshwar, he wept repentantly and embraced Ramakrishna's

feet. Then, suddenly, he felt in urgent need of drink, and

discovered, to his dismay, that the carriage had already driven

off. But presently a smiling Ramakrishna produced not only the

bottle, but Girish's shoes and scarf as well; he had privately

asked a devotee to bring them from the carriage before it left.

Girish could not control himself; he drank shamelessly before

them all - and, having done so, was again remorseful. "Drink to

your heart's content" Ramakrishna told him, "It won't be for much

longer." Girish said later that this was the beginning his

abstention from intoxicating drinks. But the abstention was

gradual; and this was certainly not the last time that Girish was

drunk in his guru's presence. Sri Ramakrishna never forbade

Girish to drink because he knew that it takes time to change

deep-rooted habits. Yet the silent influence of the guru's love

worked wonders. In the playwright's own words: 'from my early

childhood it had been my nature to do the very thing that I was

forbidden to do. But Sri Ramakrishna was a unique teacher. Never

for a moment did he restrict me, and that worked a miracle in my

life. He literally accepted my sins and left my soul free. If any

of his devotees would speak of sin and sinfulness, he would

rebuke him saying, "Stop that. Why talk of sin? He who repeatedly

says, 'I am a worm, I am a worm,' becomes a worm. He, who thinks,

'I am free,' becomes free. Always have that positive attitude

that you are free, and no sin will cling to you."'

 

The Power of Attorney

 

One day Girish finally surrendered himself at the feet of

Ramakrishna and asked him for instruction. "Do just what you are

doing now," said the guru. "Hold on to god with one hand and to

the material world with the other. Think of god once in the

morning and once in the evening, no matter how much work you have

pending." Girish agreed that this sounded simple enough. But he

then reflected on his disorganized life, so much on the mercy of

impulses and emergencies and realized that he did not even have

fixed hours for eating and sleeping; how then could he promise to

remember god? Making a false commitment was out of the question.

 

Ramakrishna, as if reading his mind said: "Very well, then

remember god just before you eat or sleep. No matter what time of

the day it is." Girish however, couldn't even make this simple

promise, the fact being that any kind of self-discipline was

repugnant to him. "In that case," said Ramakrishna, "give me your

power of attorney. From this moment on, I'll take full

responsibility for you. You won't have to do anything at all."

 

Girish was overjoyed. This is what he had been wanting all the

time; to be rid of responsibility and guilt forever. He readily

agreed to the suggestion and thought to himself, 'now will I be

as free as air.' He was however mistaken - as he soon found out.

By consenting, he had turned himself into Ramakrishna's slave.

Whenever Girish indulged himself, he was forced to think of the

tremendous moral burden he would be placing on his guru. In fact,

he found it hard to not constantly think of Sri Ramakrishna

before performing any action.

 

The Garlic Container

 

One day he went to a brothel intending to spend the night there.

At midnight however, he experienced an unbearable burning

sensation all over his body and had to immediately leave the

place to return home. Girish was reminded of the time when

Ramakrishna had compared him to a cup of garlic paste. Though

such a container may be washed an umpteen number of times, it is

not possible to get rid of the smell altogether. "Will my smell

go?" Girish had enquired. "Yes it will. All offensive odor

vanishes when the vessel is heated in a blazing fire." Was this

the same heat that was tormenting him now? So wondered the

playwright.

 

In later years he would tell young devotees that the way of

complete self-surrender was actually much harder than the way of

self-reliance and effort: "Look at me, I'm not even free to

breathe, Sri Ramakrishna has taken full possession of my heart

and bound it with his love."

 

The Guru as Mother (In Girish's Own Words)

 

'One day, when I arrived at Dakshineshwar, Sri Ramakrishna was

just finishing his noonday meal. He offered me his dessert, but

as I was about to eat it, he said: "Wait. Let me feed you

myself." Then he put the pudding into my mouth with his own

fingers, and I ate as hungrily and unself-consciously as a small

baby. I forgot that I was an adult. I felt like a child whose

mother was feeding him. But now when I remember how these lips of

mine had touched many impure lips, and how my guru had fed me,

touching them with his holy hand, I am overwhelmed with emotion

and say to myself: "Did this actually happen? Or was it only a

dream?" I heard from a fellow devotee that Sri Ramakrishna saw me

as a little baby in a divine vision. And from then, whenever I

was with him, I would actually feel like a child.'

 

Here it is also relevant to observe that though Girish had the

company of his mother till the age of eleven, he only had a

limited interaction with her. This restriction was due to an

innate fear on the part of the parent that if she came near her

children she would lose them; blaming herself for the many such

bereavements she had already suffered before Girish.

 

The Vision of Bhairava

 

Long before he had met the dramatist, Sri Ramakrishna had a

vision, which he described as follows: 'One day, when I was

meditating in the Kali temple, I saw a naked boy skipping into

the temple. He had a tuft of hair on the crown of his head, and

was carrying a flask of wine under his left arm and a vessel of

nectar in his right. "Who are you?" I asked. "I am Bhairava," he

replied. On my asking the reason for his coming, he answered, "To

do your work." Years later when Girish came to me I recognized

that Bhairava in him.'

 

In fact, Ramakrishna had often chided his disciples who derided

Girish's enchantment with the bottle, saying, "What harm can

alcohol possibly cause to someone who embodies Bhairava himself?

None other than our beloved Mother Kali can ever judge or

restrain him. We, who are her mere servants, may not even dare to

do so. Girish is not a hypocrite, he is the same, inside and

outside." The analogy with Bhairava is both apt and instructive.

Bhairava was generated from the wrath of Shiva, when the latter

was forced to listen to the vain boastings of another deity

(Brahma). Having such provocative origins, holding within himself

a simmering potential, Bhairava is thus visualized in Indian

thought as an ambivalent, excitable and dangerous character,

reflecting the emotions aroused at his birth, and even today is

worshipped with offerings of alcohol in many shrines across India.

 

The bonding through sharing of food was further strengthened when

one day Girish went to the house of a friend, who too was a

devotee of Ramakrishna. He found the host cleaning rice. Now, the

latter was a rich landlord with many servants, but nevertheless

he was performing this unaccustomed job himself. Girish was

amazed and enquired of the reason. The householder replied: " The

master is coming today, and he will have his lunch here. So I am

cleaning the rice myself."

 

Girish was touched by this extraordinary devotion. He reflected

on his own ability to be of such service to Ramakrishna. He

returned home and lay on the bed thinking, 'Indeed, god comes to

the home of those who have devotion like my friend. I am a

wretched drunkard. There is no one here who can receive the

master in the proper manner and feed him.' Just then there was a

knock on his door. Startled he jumped up. In front of him stood

the master. "Girish I am hungry, could you give me something to

eat?" There was no food in the house. Asking Sri Ramakrishna to

wait, he rushed to a restaurant nearby and brought home some

fried bread and potato curry. The food, coarse and hard, was much

different from what the frail guru's constitution permitted.

Nevertheless, he relished it with visible joy and delight.

 

A Unique Solution

 

As time progressed and age took over Ramakrishna, his health

began to deteriorate. On the advise of doctors he was moved

outside the city where the air was felt to be better.

 

An arrangement was made whereby the householder disciples

contributed money for his treatment, food and rent. The younger,

unmarried devotees, who later would establish the Ramakrishna

Mission, managed the household, including the nursing and

shopping. After a while however, some of the householders felt

that the expenditure was getting out of hand and demanded that a

strict accounting system be maintained. The youngsters felt

offended and decided not to accept any more money from them. When

the situation reached a flashpoint, Girish came forward with a

solution. He simply set fire to the account book in front of

everybody. Then he told the householders to each contribute

according to his means and that he would make up the shortfall.

To the unmarried monks he said: "Don't worry. I shall sell my

house if the need arises and spend every bit of the money for the

master." Whatever might have been the fate of Ramakrishna's

physical well being, one thing was certain - Girish's healing was

complete - and he later remarked in humor: 'Had I known that

there was such a huge pit in which to throw one's sins, I would

have committed many more.' It was this transformed soul who began

the practice of paying homage to Sri Ramakrishna before the

commencement of a theatrical performance.

 

===========================================

This article by Shri Nitin Kumar.

===========================================

 

JAI MAA

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What a beautiful reflection of divinity he is!

 

Jai Maa!

Chris

 

 

 

, "ecjensen_us" <ecjensen_us>

wrote:

> OM NAMAH SIVAYA

>

> i received this article on Ramakrishna from Exotic Indian....

>

> ===================================================

> Healing Through Faith and Love - A Case Study of Sri Ramakrishna

> ===================================================

>

> It is a little known fact that actors in Bengali theatre, prior

> to entering the stage, bow down before the image of an unshaved,

> rustic-looking, middle-aged man, who is now unofficially the

> patron deity of all dramatic performance in the region. It

> becomes all the more intriguing when we realize that the

> gentleman in question was an unlettered individual who was never

> formally related to theatre and saw only a few plays during his

> own lifetime.

>

> The story of how this came to be about begins on February 28,

> 1844, with the birth of a boy named Girish at Calcutta. Girish

> lost his mother when he was eleven and his father at fourteen.

> From his boyhood, he was a voracious reader but left school since

> he found the formal atmosphere detrimental to the process of

> learning. Without the restraining hand of a loving guardian,

> Girish's life drifted into drunkenness, debauchery, waywardness

> and obstinacy. He had to earn his living through a succession of

> office jobs, which he found thoroughly boring. His spare time was

> devoted to the theatre, both as playwright and performer. He was,

> in fact, a bohemian artist. An early marriage proved unable to

> stabilize his lifestyle and his wife passed away when he was

> thirty. Thus did he lose his mother in childhood, father in

> boyhood and wife in early manhood.

>

> For the next fifteen years he worked in various capacities in

> different offices. He continued to indulge his appetites but also

> remained devoted to writing and acting. In his late thirties, he

> had already begun to be recognized as the father of modern

> Bengali drama. He was single-handedly revitalizing the revival of

> theatre by producing a vast body of dramatic work in the Bengali

> language, and at the same time was molding the first generation

> of actors and actresses by leading from the front; in fact, such

> was his versatility that he often played two or three roles in

> the same play. In 1883, the Star Theatre was opened in Calcutta

> with his money; this later developed into an active center for

> the evolution of Bengali drama.

>

> In Girish's case, talent and licentiousness gradually achieved a

> state of peaceful co-existence. He himself sized up his

> personality as follows: 'from my early boyhood I was molded in a

> different way. I never learned to walk a straight path. I always

> preferred a crooked way. From childhood it had been my nature to

> do the very thing I was forbidden to do.'

>

> Skepticism

>

> The course of Girish's tumultuous life continued till he read one

> day about a holy personality who was living in the famous shrine

> of Goddess Kali (Dakshineshwar) near Calcutta.

>

> A skeptical Girish, without ever having met the sage, concluded

> that he was probably a fake. However, soon after he heard that

> the guru would be visiting his neighborhood and decided to see

> him firsthand. It was nearing sunset when Girish reached the

> place, and lamps were being brought into the room. Yet the

> ascetic kept asking, "Is it evening?" This confirmed Girish's

> earlier opinion, 'what pretentious play-acting, it is dusk,

> lights are burning in front of him, yet he cannot tell whether it

> is evening or not' thus murmuring under his breath and not

> recognizing the saint's super conscious stage, he left the

> premises. Thus was the first impression of Girish Chandra Ghosh,

> the father of modern Bengali theatre, regarding Sri Ramakrishna,

> the beloved saint and priest of one of India's most renowned Kali

> temples.

>

> Some years later, Girish saw the holy man again, at the house of

> a common acquaintance. In his own words: 'after reaching there, I

> found that the sage had already arrived and a dancing girl was

> seated by his side and singing devotional hymns. Quite a large

> gathering had assembled in the room. Suddenly my eyes were opened

> to a new vision by the holy man's conduct. I used to think that

> those who consider themselves param-yogis or gurus do not speak

> with anybody. They do not salute anybody. If strongly urged they

> allow others to serve them. But his behavior was quite different.

> With the utmost humility he was showing respect to everybody by

> bowing his head on the ground. An old friend of mine, pointing at

> him, said sarcastically: "The dancing girl seems to have a

> previous intimacy with him. That's why he is laughing and joking

> with her." But I did not like these insinuations. Just then,

> another of my friends said, "I have had enough of this, let's

> go."' Girish went with him. He had half wanted to stay, but was

> too embarrassed to admit this, even to himself.

>

> Lessons in Humility

>

> Only a few days after this, on September 21, 1884, the saint and

> some of his devotees visited the Star Theatre, to see a play

> based on the life of the great Vaishnava devotee Shri Chaitanya,

> authored and directed by Girish. The latter reminisced: 'I was

> strolling in the outer compound of the theatre one day when a

> disciple of Sri Ramakrishna came up to me and said: "The guru has

> come to see the play. If you will allow him a free pass, well and

> good. Otherwise we will buy a ticket for him." I replied: "He

> will not have to purchase the ticket. But others will have to."

> Saying this, I proceeded to greet him. I found him alighting from

> the carriage and entering the compound of the theatre. I wanted

> to salute him, but before I could do so he saluted me. I returned

> his greeting. He saluted me again. I bowed my head and he did the

> same to me. I thought this might continue forever, so I let him

> perform the last salute (which I answered mentally) and led him

> upstairs to his seat in the box.'

>

> This was Girish's third meeting with Ramakrishna; but his

> intellect continued to refuse to accept another human being as a

> guru. This is how he reasoned: 'after all, the guru is a man. The

> disciple also is a man. Why should one man stand before another

> with folded palms and follow him like a slave? But time after

> time in the presence of Sri Ramakrishna my pride crumbled into

> dust. Meeting me at the theatre, he had first saluted me. How

> could my pride remain in the presence of such a humble man? The

> memory of his humility created an indelible impression on my

> mind.'

>

> Three days later, Girish was sitting on the porch of a friend's

> house when he saw Ramakrishna approaching along the street: 'No

> sooner had I turned my eyes towards him than he saluted me. I

> returned it. He continued on his way. For no accountable reason

> my heart felt drawn towards him by an invisible string. I felt a

> strong urge to follow him. Just then, a person brought to me a

> message from him and said: "Sri Ramakrishna is calling you." I

> went. He was seated with a number of devotees around him. As soon

> as I sat down I asked the following question:

>

> "What is a guru?"

>

> "A guru is like the matchmaker who arranges for the union of the

> bride with his bridegroom. Likewise a guru prepares for the

> meeting of the individual soul with his beloved, the Divine

> Spirit." Actually, Sri Ramakrishna did not use the word

> matchmaker, but a slang expression, which left a more forceful

> impression. Then he said: "You need not worry, your guru has

> already been chosen."

>

> Girish, however, was a complex personality: a mixture of shyness,

> aggression, humility and arrogance. Although in one corner of his

> heart he did believe that Ramakrishna was the guru who he had

> hoped for, another part of his old self revolted against the

> idea. On December 14th of the same year, the playwright was in

> his dressing room when a devotee came up to inform him of

> Ramakrishna's arrival. "All right," Girish said rather haughtily,

> "take him to the box and give him a seat."

>

> "But won't you come and receive him personally?" The devotee asked.

>

> "What does he need me for? " said the annoyed Girish.

> Nevertheless, he followed the disciple downstairs. At the sight

> of Ramakrishna's peaceful countenance Girish's mood changed. He

> not only escorted the saint upstairs but also bowed down before

> him and touched his feet. Later Girish said: 'seeing his serene

> and radiant face, my stony heart melted. I rebuked myself in

> shame, and that guilt still haunts my memory. To think that I had

> refused to greet this sweet and gentle soul! Then I conducted him

> upstairs. There I saluted him touching his feet. Even now I do

> not understand the reason, but at that moment a radical change

> came over me and I was a different man.'

>

> The Transforming Power of Faith

>

> 'Soon he started conversing with me. He spoke of several things

> while I listened longingly. I felt a spiritual current passing,

> as it were, through my body from foot to head and head to foot.

> All of a sudden Sri Ramakrishna lost outer consciousness and went

> into ecstasy, and in that mood he started talking with a young

> devotee. Many years earlier I had heard some slandering remarks

> against him, made by a very wicked man. I remembered those words,

> and at that moment his ecstasy broke and his mood changed.

> Pointing towards me, he said, "There is some crookedness in your

> heart." I thought, 'Yes indeed. Plenty of it - of various kinds."

> But I was at loss to understand which kind he was particularly

> referring to. I asked, "How shall I get rid of it?Have faith,"

> Shri Ramakrishna replied.

>

> On another occasion when Ramakrishna offered Girish a spiritual

> discourse, the latter stopped him short saying: "I won't listen

> to any advice. I have written cartloads of it myself. It doesn't

> help. Do something that will transform my life." Girish had a

> writer's skepticism about the authority of the written word.

> Ramakrishna was highly pleased to hear his view and asked a

> disciple to sing a particular song whose words went like this:

> "Go into solitude and shut yourself in a cave. Peace is not

> there. Peace is where faith is, for faith is the root of all." At

> that moment Girish felt himself cleansed of all impurities and

> doubts: 'my arrogant head bowed low at his feet. In him I had

> found my sanctuary and all my fear was gone.'

>

> Girish's faith however required constant strengthening; years of

> suffering and torment had damaged it severely. In a later meeting

> he again directed the question to Ramakrishna:

>

> "Will the crookedness of my heart go?"

>

> "Yes it will go."

>

> Girish repeated the question and received the same reply. The

> process was replayed twice until one of the other disciples

> reprimanded Girish: "Enough. He has already answered you. Why do

> you bother him again?" The theatre veteran turned towards the

> devotee to rebuke him since no one who dared criticize him ever

> escaped the lash of his tongue. But he controlled himself

> thinking: 'my friend is right. He who does not believe when told

> once will not believe even if he is told a hundred times.'

>

> Venerating with Poison

>

> One night, while Girish was in a brothel with two of his friends,

> he felt a sudden desire to see Ramakrishna. Despite the lateness

> of the hour he and his friends hired a carriage to Dakshineshwar.

> They were very drunk and everyone was asleep. But when the three

> tipsily staggered into Ramakrishna's room, he received them

> joyfully. Going into ecstasy, he grasped both of Girish's hands

> and began to sing and dance with him. The dramatist thus

> described his feelings: 'here is a man whose love embraces all -

> even a wicked man like me, whose own family would condemn me in

> this state. Surely, this holy man, respected by the righteous, is

> also the savior of the fallen.'

>

> Girish, however, was not always so pleasant when drunk. Once at

> the theatre he publicly abused Ramakrishna, using the coarsest

> and most brutal words. All those present were shocked and advised

> the sage to sever all links with the playwright.

>

> It is interesting to read what Girish himself says about this

> incident:

>

> 'Although I had come to regard Sri Ramakrishna as my very own,

> the scars of past impressions were not so easily healed. One day,

> under the influence of liquor, I began to abuse him in most

> unutterable language. The devotees of the master grew furious and

> were about to punish me, but he restrained them. Abuse continued

> to flow from my lips in a torrent. Sri Ramakrishna kept quiet and

> silently returned to Dakshineshwar. There was no remorse in my

> heart. As a spoiled child may carelessly berate his father, so

> did I abuse him without any fear of punishment. Soon my behavior

> became common gossip, and I began to realize my mistake. But at

> the same time I had so much faith in his love, which I felt to be

> infinite, that I did not for a moment fear that Sri Ramakrishna

> could ever desert me.'

>

> A common friend reminded Ramakrishna of the story of the serpent

> Kaliya, who, while battling Krishna, spewed enormous quantities

> of venom and said: "Lord you have given me only poison, where

> shall I get the nectar to worship you?" Similarly, Girish too had

> worshipped Ramakrishna with abuse, which was in accordance with

> his nature.

>

> Ramakrishna smiled and immediately asked for a carriage to go to

> Girish's house, where he found the latter repentant. Seeing the

> guru, Girish was overwhelmed. He said, "Master if you had not

> come today, I would have concluded that you had not attained that

> supreme state of knowledge where praise and blame are equal, and

> that you could not be called a truly illumined soul." On another

> occasion Ramakrishna had told Girish: "You utter many abusive and

> vulgar words; but that doesn't matter. It's better for these

> things to come out. There are some people who fall ill on account

> of blood poisoning; the more the poisoned blood finds an outlet,

> the better it is for them. You too will be purer by the day. In

> fact, people will marvel at you."

>

> Binding Through Freedom

>

> One night, Girish drank himself into unconsciousness at the house

> of a prostitute. In the morning, he hastened to visit

> Ramakrishna. He was full of remorse but had not neglected to

> bring a bottle of wine with him in the carriage. On arriving at

> Dakshineshwar, he wept repentantly and embraced Ramakrishna's

> feet. Then, suddenly, he felt in urgent need of drink, and

> discovered, to his dismay, that the carriage had already driven

> off. But presently a smiling Ramakrishna produced not only the

> bottle, but Girish's shoes and scarf as well; he had privately

> asked a devotee to bring them from the carriage before it left.

> Girish could not control himself; he drank shamelessly before

> them all - and, having done so, was again remorseful. "Drink to

> your heart's content" Ramakrishna told him, "It won't be for much

> longer." Girish said later that this was the beginning his

> abstention from intoxicating drinks. But the abstention was

> gradual; and this was certainly not the last time that Girish was

> drunk in his guru's presence. Sri Ramakrishna never forbade

> Girish to drink because he knew that it takes time to change

> deep-rooted habits. Yet the silent influence of the guru's love

> worked wonders. In the playwright's own words: 'from my early

> childhood it had been my nature to do the very thing that I was

> forbidden to do. But Sri Ramakrishna was a unique teacher. Never

> for a moment did he restrict me, and that worked a miracle in my

> life. He literally accepted my sins and left my soul free. If any

> of his devotees would speak of sin and sinfulness, he would

> rebuke him saying, "Stop that. Why talk of sin? He who repeatedly

> says, 'I am a worm, I am a worm,' becomes a worm. He, who thinks,

> 'I am free,' becomes free. Always have that positive attitude

> that you are free, and no sin will cling to you."'

>

> The Power of Attorney

>

> One day Girish finally surrendered himself at the feet of

> Ramakrishna and asked him for instruction. "Do just what you are

> doing now," said the guru. "Hold on to god with one hand and to

> the material world with the other. Think of god once in the

> morning and once in the evening, no matter how much work you have

> pending." Girish agreed that this sounded simple enough. But he

> then reflected on his disorganized life, so much on the mercy of

> impulses and emergencies and realized that he did not even have

> fixed hours for eating and sleeping; how then could he promise to

> remember god? Making a false commitment was out of the question.

>

> Ramakrishna, as if reading his mind said: "Very well, then

> remember god just before you eat or sleep. No matter what time of

> the day it is." Girish however, couldn't even make this simple

> promise, the fact being that any kind of self-discipline was

> repugnant to him. "In that case," said Ramakrishna, "give me your

> power of attorney. From this moment on, I'll take full

> responsibility for you. You won't have to do anything at all."

>

> Girish was overjoyed. This is what he had been wanting all the

> time; to be rid of responsibility and guilt forever. He readily

> agreed to the suggestion and thought to himself, 'now will I be

> as free as air.' He was however mistaken - as he soon found out.

> By consenting, he had turned himself into Ramakrishna's slave.

> Whenever Girish indulged himself, he was forced to think of the

> tremendous moral burden he would be placing on his guru. In fact,

> he found it hard to not constantly think of Sri Ramakrishna

> before performing any action.

>

> The Garlic Container

>

> One day he went to a brothel intending to spend the night there.

> At midnight however, he experienced an unbearable burning

> sensation all over his body and had to immediately leave the

> place to return home. Girish was reminded of the time when

> Ramakrishna had compared him to a cup of garlic paste. Though

> such a container may be washed an umpteen number of times, it is

> not possible to get rid of the smell altogether. "Will my smell

> go?" Girish had enquired. "Yes it will. All offensive odor

> vanishes when the vessel is heated in a blazing fire." Was this

> the same heat that was tormenting him now? So wondered the

> playwright.

>

> In later years he would tell young devotees that the way of

> complete self-surrender was actually much harder than the way of

> self-reliance and effort: "Look at me, I'm not even free to

> breathe, Sri Ramakrishna has taken full possession of my heart

> and bound it with his love."

>

> The Guru as Mother (In Girish's Own Words)

>

> 'One day, when I arrived at Dakshineshwar, Sri Ramakrishna was

> just finishing his noonday meal. He offered me his dessert, but

> as I was about to eat it, he said: "Wait. Let me feed you

> myself." Then he put the pudding into my mouth with his own

> fingers, and I ate as hungrily and unself-consciously as a small

> baby. I forgot that I was an adult. I felt like a child whose

> mother was feeding him. But now when I remember how these lips of

> mine had touched many impure lips, and how my guru had fed me,

> touching them with his holy hand, I am overwhelmed with emotion

> and say to myself: "Did this actually happen? Or was it only a

> dream?" I heard from a fellow devotee that Sri Ramakrishna saw me

> as a little baby in a divine vision. And from then, whenever I

> was with him, I would actually feel like a child.'

>

> Here it is also relevant to observe that though Girish had the

> company of his mother till the age of eleven, he only had a

> limited interaction with her. This restriction was due to an

> innate fear on the part of the parent that if she came near her

> children she would lose them; blaming herself for the many such

> bereavements she had already suffered before Girish.

>

> The Vision of Bhairava

>

> Long before he had met the dramatist, Sri Ramakrishna had a

> vision, which he described as follows: 'One day, when I was

> meditating in the Kali temple, I saw a naked boy skipping into

> the temple. He had a tuft of hair on the crown of his head, and

> was carrying a flask of wine under his left arm and a vessel of

> nectar in his right. "Who are you?" I asked. "I am Bhairava," he

> replied. On my asking the reason for his coming, he answered, "To

> do your work." Years later when Girish came to me I recognized

> that Bhairava in him.'

>

> In fact, Ramakrishna had often chided his disciples who derided

> Girish's enchantment with the bottle, saying, "What harm can

> alcohol possibly cause to someone who embodies Bhairava himself?

> None other than our beloved Mother Kali can ever judge or

> restrain him. We, who are her mere servants, may not even dare to

> do so. Girish is not a hypocrite, he is the same, inside and

> outside." The analogy with Bhairava is both apt and instructive.

> Bhairava was generated from the wrath of Shiva, when the latter

> was forced to listen to the vain boastings of another deity

> (Brahma). Having such provocative origins, holding within himself

> a simmering potential, Bhairava is thus visualized in Indian

> thought as an ambivalent, excitable and dangerous character,

> reflecting the emotions aroused at his birth, and even today is

> worshipped with offerings of alcohol in many shrines across India.

>

> The bonding through sharing of food was further strengthened when

> one day Girish went to the house of a friend, who too was a

> devotee of Ramakrishna. He found the host cleaning rice. Now, the

> latter was a rich landlord with many servants, but nevertheless

> he was performing this unaccustomed job himself. Girish was

> amazed and enquired of the reason. The householder replied: " The

> master is coming today, and he will have his lunch here. So I am

> cleaning the rice myself."

>

> Girish was touched by this extraordinary devotion. He reflected

> on his own ability to be of such service to Ramakrishna. He

> returned home and lay on the bed thinking, 'Indeed, god comes to

> the home of those who have devotion like my friend. I am a

> wretched drunkard. There is no one here who can receive the

> master in the proper manner and feed him.' Just then there was a

> knock on his door. Startled he jumped up. In front of him stood

> the master. "Girish I am hungry, could you give me something to

> eat?" There was no food in the house. Asking Sri Ramakrishna to

> wait, he rushed to a restaurant nearby and brought home some

> fried bread and potato curry. The food, coarse and hard, was much

> different from what the frail guru's constitution permitted.

> Nevertheless, he relished it with visible joy and delight.

>

> A Unique Solution

>

> As time progressed and age took over Ramakrishna, his health

> began to deteriorate. On the advise of doctors he was moved

> outside the city where the air was felt to be better.

>

> An arrangement was made whereby the householder disciples

> contributed money for his treatment, food and rent. The younger,

> unmarried devotees, who later would establish the Ramakrishna

> Mission, managed the household, including the nursing and

> shopping. After a while however, some of the householders felt

> that the expenditure was getting out of hand and demanded that a

> strict accounting system be maintained. The youngsters felt

> offended and decided not to accept any more money from them. When

> the situation reached a flashpoint, Girish came forward with a

> solution. He simply set fire to the account book in front of

> everybody. Then he told the householders to each contribute

> according to his means and that he would make up the shortfall.

> To the unmarried monks he said: "Don't worry. I shall sell my

> house if the need arises and spend every bit of the money for the

> master." Whatever might have been the fate of Ramakrishna's

> physical well being, one thing was certain - Girish's healing was

> complete - and he later remarked in humor: 'Had I known that

> there was such a huge pit in which to throw one's sins, I would

> have committed many more.' It was this transformed soul who began

> the practice of paying homage to Sri Ramakrishna before the

> commencement of a theatrical performance.

>

> ===========================================

> This article by Shri Nitin Kumar.

> ===========================================

>

> JAI MAA

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OM NAMAH SIVAYAi received this article on Ramakrishna from Exotic

Indian....===================================================Healing

Through Faith and Love - A Case Study of Sri

Ramakrishna===================================================It is a

little known fact that actors in Bengali theatre, priorto entering the

stage, bow down before the image of an unshaved,rustic-looking,

middle-aged man, who is now unofficially thepatron deity of all

dramatic performance in the region. Itbecomes all the more intriguing

when we realize that thegentleman in question was an unlettered

individual who was neverformally related to theatre and saw only a

few plays during hisown lifetime.The story of how this came to be

about begins on February 28,1844, with the birth of a boy named

Girish at Calcutta. Girishlost his

mother when he was eleven and his father at fourteen.From his boyhood,

he was a voracious reader but left school sincehe found the formal

atmosphere detrimental to the process oflearning. Without the

restraining hand of a loving guardian,Girish's life drifted into

drunkenness, debauchery, waywardnessand obstinacy. He had to earn his

living through a succession ofoffice jobs, which he found thoroughly

boring. His spare time wasdevoted to the theatre, both as playwright

and performer. He was,in fact, a bohemian artist. An early marriage

proved unable tostabilize his lifestyle and his wife passed away when

he wasthirty. Thus did he lose his mother in childhood, father

inboyhood and wife in early manhood.For the next fifteen years he

worked in various capacities indifferent offices. He continued to

indulge his appetites but alsoremained devoted to writing and acting.

In his late thirties, hehad already begun to be

recognized as the father of modernBengali drama. He was

single-handedly revitalizing the revival oftheatre by producing a

vast body of dramatic work in the Bengalilanguage, and at the same

time was molding the first generationof actors and actresses by

leading from the front; in fact, suchwas his versatility that he

often played two or three roles inthe same play. In 1883, the Star

Theatre was opened in Calcuttawith his money; this later developed

into an active center forthe evolution of Bengali drama.In Girish's

case, talent and licentiousness gradually achieved astate of peaceful

co-existence. He himself sized up hispersonality as follows: 'from my

early boyhood I was molded in adifferent way. I never learned to walk

a straight path. I alwayspreferred a crooked way. From childhood it

had been my nature todo the very thing I was forbidden to

do.'SkepticismThe course of Girish's tumultuous life continued

till he read oneday about a holy personality who was living in the

famous shrineof Goddess Kali (Dakshineshwar) near Calcutta.A

skeptical Girish, without ever having met the sage, concludedthat he

was probably a fake. However, soon after he heard thatthe guru would

be visiting his neighborhood and decided to seehim firsthand. It was

nearing sunset when Girish reached theplace, and lamps were being

brought into the room. Yet theascetic kept asking, "Is it evening?"

This confirmed Girish'searlier opinion, 'what pretentious

play-acting, it is dusk,lights are burning in front of him, yet he

cannot tell whether itis evening or not' thus murmuring under his

breath and notrecognizing the saint's super conscious stage, he left

thepremises. Thus was the first impression of Girish Chandra

Ghosh,the father of modern Bengali theatre, regarding Sri

Ramakrishna,the beloved saint and priest of one of India's most

renowned

Kalitemples.Some years later, Girish saw the holy man again, at the

house ofa common acquaintance. In his own words: 'after reaching

there, Ifound that the sage had already arrived and a dancing girl

wasseated by his side and singing devotional hymns. Quite a

largegathering had assembled in the room. Suddenly my eyes were

openedto a new vision by the holy man's conduct. I used to think

thatthose who consider themselves param-yogis or gurus do not

speakwith anybody. They do not salute anybody. If strongly urged

theyallow others to serve them. But his behavior was quite

different.With the utmost humility he was showing respect to

everybody bybowing his head on the ground. An old friend of mine,

pointing athim, said sarcastically: "The dancing girl seems to have

aprevious intimacy with him. That's why he is laughing and jokingwith

her." But I did not like these insinuations. Just then,another of my

friends said, "I

have had enough of this, let'sgo."' Girish went with him. He had half

wanted to stay, but wastoo embarrassed to admit this, even to

himself.Lessons in HumilityOnly a few days after this, on September

21, 1884, the saint andsome of his devotees visited the Star Theatre,

to see a playbased on the life of the great Vaishnava devotee Shri

Chaitanya,authored and directed by Girish. The latter reminisced: 'I

wasstrolling in the outer compound of the theatre one day when

adisciple of Sri Ramakrishna came up to me and said: "The guru

hascome to see the play. If you will allow him a free pass, well

andgood. Otherwise we will buy a ticket for him." I replied: "Hewill

not have to purchase the ticket. But others will have to."Saying

this, I proceeded to greet him. I found him alighting fromthe

carriage and entering the compound of the theatre. I wantedto salute

him, but before I could do so he saluted me. I returnedhis

greeting. He saluted me again. I bowed my head and he did thesame to

me. I thought this might continue forever, so I let himperform the

last salute (which I answered mentally) and led himupstairs to his

seat in the box.'This was Girish's third meeting with Ramakrishna;

but hisintellect continued to refuse to accept another human being as

aguru. This is how he reasoned: 'after all, the guru is a man.

Thedisciple also is a man. Why should one man stand before

anotherwith folded palms and follow him like a slave? But time

aftertime in the presence of Sri Ramakrishna my pride crumbled

intodust. Meeting me at the theatre, he had first saluted me.

Howcould my pride remain in the presence of such a humble man?

Thememory of his humility created an indelible impression on

mymind.'Three days later, Girish was sitting on the porch of a

friend'shouse when he saw Ramakrishna approaching along the street:

'Nosooner had I

turned my eyes towards him than he saluted me. Ireturned it. He

continued on his way. For no accountable reasonmy heart felt drawn

towards him by an invisible string. I felt astrong urge to follow

him. Just then, a person brought to me amessage from him and said:

"Sri Ramakrishna is calling you." Iwent. He was seated with a number

of devotees around him. As soonas I sat down I asked the following

question:"What is a guru?""A guru is like the matchmaker who arranges

for the union of thebride with his bridegroom. Likewise a guru

prepares for themeeting of the individual soul with his beloved, the

DivineSpirit." Actually, Sri Ramakrishna did not use the

wordmatchmaker, but a slang expression, which left a more

forcefulimpression. Then he said: "You need not worry, your guru

hasalready been chosen."Girish, however, was a complex personality: a

mixture of shyness,aggression, humility and arrogance. Although

in one corner of hisheart he did believe that Ramakrishna was the guru

who he hadhoped for, another part of his old self revolted against

theidea. On December 14th of the same year, the playwright was inhis

dressing room when a devotee came up to inform him ofRamakrishna's

arrival. "All right," Girish said rather haughtily,"take him to the

box and give him a seat.""But won't you come and receive him

personally?" The devotee asked."What does he need me for? " said the

annoyed Girish.Nevertheless, he followed the disciple downstairs. At

the sightof Ramakrishna's peaceful countenance Girish's mood changed.

Henot only escorted the saint upstairs but also bowed down beforehim

and touched his feet. Later Girish said: 'seeing his sereneand

radiant face, my stony heart melted. I rebuked myself inshame, and

that guilt still haunts my memory. To think that I hadrefused to

greet this sweet and gentle soul! Then I conducted

himupstairs. There I saluted him touching his feet. Even now I donot

understand the reason, but at that moment a radical changecame over

me and I was a different man.'The Transforming Power of Faith'Soon he

started conversing with me. He spoke of several thingswhile I listened

longingly. I felt a spiritual current passing,as it were, through my

body from foot to head and head to foot.All of a sudden Sri

Ramakrishna lost outer consciousness and wentinto ecstasy, and in

that mood he started talking with a youngdevotee. Many years earlier

I had heard some slandering remarksagainst him, made by a very wicked

man. I remembered those words,and at that moment his ecstasy broke and

his mood changed.Pointing towards me, he said, "There is some

crookedness in yourheart." I thought, 'Yes indeed. Plenty of it - of

various kinds."But I was at loss to understand which kind he was

particularlyreferring to. I asked, "How shall

I get rid of it?Have faith,"Shri Ramakrishna replied.On another

occasion when Ramakrishna offered Girish a spiritualdiscourse, the

latter stopped him short saying: "I won't listento any advice. I have

written cartloads of it myself. It doesn'thelp. Do something that will

transform my life." Girish had awriter's skepticism about the

authority of the written word.Ramakrishna was highly pleased to hear

his view and asked adisciple to sing a particular song whose words

went like this:"Go into solitude and shut yourself in a cave. Peace

is notthere. Peace is where faith is, for faith is the root of all."

Atthat moment Girish felt himself cleansed of all impurities

anddoubts: 'my arrogant head bowed low at his feet. In him I hadfound

my sanctuary and all my fear was gone.'Girish's faith however required

constant strengthening; years ofsuffering and torment had damaged it

severely. In a later meetinghe again

directed the question to Ramakrishna:"Will the crookedness of my heart

go?""Yes it will go."Girish repeated the question and received the

same reply. Theprocess was replayed twice until one of the other

disciplesreprimanded Girish: "Enough. He has already answered you.

Why doyou bother him again?" The theatre veteran turned towards

thedevotee to rebuke him since no one who dared criticize him

everescaped the lash of his tongue. But he controlled

himselfthinking: 'my friend is right. He who does not believe when

toldonce will not believe even if he is told a hundred

times.'Venerating with PoisonOne night, while Girish was in a brothel

with two of his friends,he felt a sudden desire to see Ramakrishna.

Despite the latenessof the hour he and his friends hired a carriage

to Dakshineshwar.They were very drunk and everyone was asleep. But

when the threetipsily staggered into Ramakrishna's room, he received

themjoyfully. Going into ecstasy, he grasped both of Girish's handsand

began to sing and dance with him. The dramatist thusdescribed his

feelings: 'here is a man whose love embraces all -even a wicked man

like me, whose own family would condemn me inthis state. Surely, this

holy man, respected by the righteous, isalso the savior of the

fallen.'Girish, however, was not always so pleasant when drunk. Once

atthe theatre he publicly abused Ramakrishna, using the coarsestand

most brutal words. All those present were shocked and advisedthe sage

to sever all links with the playwright.It is interesting to read what

Girish himself says about this incident:'Although I had come to

regard Sri Ramakrishna as my very own,the scars of past impressions

were not so easily healed. One day,under the influence of liquor, I

began to abuse him in mostunutterable language. The devotees of the

master grew furious andwere about

to punish me, but he restrained them. Abuse continuedto flow from my

lips in a torrent. Sri Ramakrishna kept quiet andsilently returned to

Dakshineshwar. There was no remorse in myheart. As a spoiled child may

carelessly berate his father, sodid I abuse him without any fear of

punishment. Soon my behaviorbecame common gossip, and I began to

realize my mistake. But atthe same time I had so much faith in his

love, which I felt to beinfinite, that I did not for a moment fear

that Sri Ramakrishnacould ever desert me.'A common friend reminded

Ramakrishna of the story of the serpentKaliya, who, while battling

Krishna, spewed enormous quantitiesof venom and said: "Lord you have

given me only poison, whereshall I get the nectar to worship you?"

Similarly, Girish too hadworshipped Ramakrishna with abuse, which was

in accordance withhis nature.Ramakrishna smiled and immediately asked

for a carriage to go toGirish's house,

where he found the latter repentant. Seeing theguru, Girish was

overwhelmed. He said, "Master if you had notcome today, I would have

concluded that you had not attained thatsupreme state of knowledge

where praise and blame are equal, andthat you could not be called a

truly illumined soul." On anotheroccasion Ramakrishna had told

Girish: "You utter many abusive andvulgar words; but that doesn't

matter. It's better for thesethings to come out. There are some

people who fall ill on accountof blood poisoning; the more the

poisoned blood finds an outlet,the better it is for them. You too

will be purer by the day. Infact, people will marvel at you."Binding

Through FreedomOne night, Girish drank himself into unconsciousness

at the houseof a prostitute. In the morning, he hastened to

visitRamakrishna. He was full of remorse but had not neglected

tobring a bottle of wine with him in the carriage. On arriving

atDakshineshwar, he wept repentantly and embraced Ramakrishna'sfeet.

Then, suddenly, he felt in urgent need of drink, anddiscovered, to

his dismay, that the carriage had already drivenoff. But presently a

smiling Ramakrishna produced not only thebottle, but Girish's shoes

and scarf as well; he had privatelyasked a devotee to bring them from

the carriage before it left.Girish could not control himself; he drank

shamelessly beforethem all - and, having done so, was again

remorseful. "Drink toyour heart's content" Ramakrishna told him, "It

won't be for muchlonger." Girish said later that this was the

beginning hisabstention from intoxicating drinks. But the abstention

wasgradual; and this was certainly not the last time that Girish

wasdrunk in his guru's presence. Sri Ramakrishna never forbadeGirish

to drink because he knew that it takes time to changedeep-rooted

habits. Yet the silent influence of the guru's loveworked

wonders. In the playwright's own words: 'from my earlychildhood it had

been my nature to do the very thing that I wasforbidden to do. But Sri

Ramakrishna was a unique teacher. Neverfor a moment did he restrict

me, and that worked a miracle in mylife. He literally accepted my

sins and left my soul free. If anyof his devotees would speak of sin

and sinfulness, he wouldrebuke him saying, "Stop that. Why talk of

sin? He who repeatedlysays, 'I am a worm, I am a worm,' becomes a

worm. He, who thinks,'I am free,' becomes free. Always have that

positive attitudethat you are free, and no sin will cling to

you."'The Power of AttorneyOne day Girish finally surrendered himself

at the feet ofRamakrishna and asked him for instruction. "Do just what

you aredoing now," said the guru. "Hold on to god with one hand and

tothe material world with the other. Think of god once in themorning

and once in the evening, no matter how much

work you havepending." Girish agreed that this sounded simple enough.

But hethen reflected on his disorganized life, so much on the mercy

ofimpulses and emergencies and realized that he did not even

havefixed hours for eating and sleeping; how then could he promise

toremember god? Making a false commitment was out of the

question.Ramakrishna, as if reading his mind said: "Very well,

thenremember god just before you eat or sleep. No matter what time

ofthe day it is." Girish however, couldn't even make this

simplepromise, the fact being that any kind of self-discipline

wasrepugnant to him. "In that case," said Ramakrishna, "give me

yourpower of attorney. From this moment on, I'll take

fullresponsibility for you. You won't have to do anything at

all."Girish was overjoyed. This is what he had been wanting all

thetime; to be rid of responsibility and guilt forever. He

readilyagreed to the suggestion and thought to

himself, 'now will I beas free as air.' He was however mistaken - as

he soon found out.By consenting, he had turned himself into

Ramakrishna's slave.Whenever Girish indulged himself, he was forced

to think of thetremendous moral burden he would be placing on his

guru. In fact,he found it hard to not constantly think of Sri

Ramakrishnabefore performing any action.The Garlic ContainerOne day

he went to a brothel intending to spend the night there.At midnight

however, he experienced an unbearable burningsensation all over his

body and had to immediately leave theplace to return home. Girish was

reminded of the time whenRamakrishna had compared him to a cup of

garlic paste. Thoughsuch a container may be washed an umpteen number

of times, it isnot possible to get rid of the smell altogether. "Will

my smellgo?" Girish had enquired. "Yes it will. All offensive

odorvanishes when the vessel is heated in a blazing fire."

Was thisthe same heat that was tormenting him now? So wondered

theplaywright.In later years he would tell young devotees that the

way ofcomplete self-surrender was actually much harder than the way

ofself-reliance and effort: "Look at me, I'm not even free tobreathe,

Sri Ramakrishna has taken full possession of my heartand bound it with

his love."The Guru as Mother (In Girish's Own Words)'One day, when I

arrived at Dakshineshwar, Sri Ramakrishna wasjust finishing his

noonday meal. He offered me his dessert, butas I was about to eat it,

he said: "Wait. Let me feed youmyself." Then he put the pudding into

my mouth with his ownfingers, and I ate as hungrily and

unself-consciously as a smallbaby. I forgot that I was an adult. I

felt like a child whosemother was feeding him. But now when I

remember how these lips ofmine had touched many impure lips, and how

my guru had fed me,touching them with his holy hand,

I am overwhelmed with emotionand say to myself: "Did this actually

happen? Or was it only adream?" I heard from a fellow devotee that

Sri Ramakrishna saw meas a little baby in a divine vision. And from

then, whenever Iwas with him, I would actually feel like a

child.'Here it is also relevant to observe that though Girish had

thecompany of his mother till the age of eleven, he only had alimited

interaction with her. This restriction was due to aninnate fear on the

part of the parent that if she came near herchildren she would lose

them; blaming herself for the many suchbereavements she had already

suffered before Girish.The Vision of BhairavaLong before he had met

the dramatist, Sri Ramakrishna had avision, which he described as

follows: 'One day, when I wasmeditating in the Kali temple, I saw a

naked boy skipping intothe temple. He had a tuft of hair on the crown

of his head, andwas carrying a flask of wine

under his left arm and a vessel ofnectar in his right. "Who are you?"

I asked. "I am Bhairava," hereplied. On my asking the reason for his

coming, he answered, "Todo your work." Years later when Girish came

to me I recognizedthat Bhairava in him.'In fact, Ramakrishna had

often chided his disciples who deridedGirish's enchantment with the

bottle, saying, "What harm canalcohol possibly cause to someone who

embodies Bhairava himself?None other than our beloved Mother Kali can

ever judge orrestrain him. We, who are her mere servants, may not even

dare todo so. Girish is not a hypocrite, he is the same, inside

andoutside." The analogy with Bhairava is both apt and

instructive.Bhairava was generated from the wrath of Shiva, when the

latterwas forced to listen to the vain boastings of another

deity(Brahma). Having such provocative origins, holding within

himselfa simmering potential, Bhairava is thus visualized in

Indianthought as an ambivalent, excitable and dangerous

character,reflecting the emotions aroused at his birth, and even

today isworshipped with offerings of alcohol in many shrines across

India.The bonding through sharing of food was further strengthened

whenone day Girish went to the house of a friend, who too was

adevotee of Ramakrishna. He found the host cleaning rice. Now,

thelatter was a rich landlord with many servants, but neverthelesshe

was performing this unaccustomed job himself. Girish wasamazed and

enquired of the reason. The householder replied: " Themaster is

coming today, and he will have his lunch here. So I amcleaning the

rice myself."Girish was touched by this extraordinary devotion. He

reflectedon his own ability to be of such service to Ramakrishna.

Hereturned home and lay on the bed thinking, 'Indeed, god comes tothe

home of those who have devotion like my friend. I am awretched

drunkard.

There is no one here who can receive themaster in the proper manner

and feed him.' Just then there was aknock on his door. Startled he

jumped up. In front of him stoodthe master. "Girish I am hungry,

could you give me something toeat?" There was no food in the house.

Asking Sri Ramakrishna towait, he rushed to a restaurant nearby and

brought home somefried bread and potato curry. The food, coarse and

hard, was muchdifferent from what the frail guru's constitution

permitted.Nevertheless, he relished it with visible joy and delight.A

Unique SolutionAs time progressed and age took over Ramakrishna, his

healthbegan to deteriorate. On the advise of doctors he was

movedoutside the city where the air was felt to be better.An

arrangement was made whereby the householder disciplescontributed

money for his treatment, food and rent. The younger,unmarried

devotees, who later would establish the RamakrishnaMission,

managed the household, including the nursing andshopping. After a

while however, some of the householders feltthat the expenditure was

getting out of hand and demanded that astrict accounting system be

maintained. The youngsters feltoffended and decided not to accept any

more money from them. Whenthe situation reached a flashpoint, Girish

came forward with asolution. He simply set fire to the account book

in front ofeverybody. Then he told the householders to each

contributeaccording to his means and that he would make up the

shortfall.To the unmarried monks he said: "Don't worry. I shall sell

myhouse if the need arises and spend every bit of the money for

themaster." Whatever might have been the fate of

Ramakrishna'sphysical well being, one thing was certain - Girish's

healing wascomplete - and he later remarked in humor: 'Had I known

thatthere was such a huge pit in which to throw one's sins, I

wouldhave committed many

more.' It was this transformed soul who beganthe practice of paying

homage to Sri Ramakrishna before thecommencement of a theatrical

performance.===========================================This article

by Shri Nitin Kumar.===========================================JAI

MAA

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