The doorbell rang at a quarter past two. It had been a busy
day, i'd had a lot to do and the day was only half way done yet. I was not
expecting visitors and was in no mood for them.
At the door was a mendicant, he wore a yellow robe and was
in a group, it was Ramnavmi today, I remembered, as I looked at the men scattered
around the bock, ringing doorbells, asking for alms. The one at my door, I looked
at and thought with Keats, “full beautiful, a fairy’s child”. He truly was, and
the thought that crossed my mind was of a mother who searched for him still,
and then of a woman, lovelorn, forlorn…
He asked for water and sat to drink on my garden bench. I looked
again. Why was he a Renunciate? Why was he a Sadhu? When he, (indeed everyone of us)
could be anyone he wanted. Was this really a rational choice made in full
awareness of all available options, or was it merely a state of acceptance of
what was given the external limitations one could not master the courage to
overcome? I looked again. I did not see any inner radiance, no shiny glow,
nothing otherworldly , no beatific smile lightened his dark countenance, indeed
he frowned , troubled by the glare of the Sun and the heat of the day.
The giving up of the material world and its earthly
shackles, in order to seek freedom, in order to pursue greater edifying objectives
that would free the soul from earthy bondage, is greatly revered in Indian society.
That reverence has never found acceptance with me. I've questioned the logic, as
well as the merit of that argument. I’ve pondered the merit of the Budha sneaking
away at night, pondered the need he felt to ‘sneak’ away in the middle of the
night while his young wife and infant son slept. If that decision was above
suspicion why did he not seek the blessings of his loved ones to traverse a new
path, a path that would lead to glory and enlightenment? I’ve wondered if men
ought to this abandon social responsibility, no matter how ennobling the ideal
they pursue.
No man is an island , and I’ve found such men , many of whom
do achieve higher states of consciousness, or acquire tremendous achievement,
focused solely on the self, to the exclusion of the other. Where no
relationships are involved, this almost narcissistic self centeredness hurts no
one, but the self perhaps. Where friends and family are whimsically abandoned,
a great deal of pain manifests, pain that is real and life altering for those
on whom the decision is thrust. That pain must subtract from the brownie points
earned in terms of pious merit, surely? Many young men are simply misled, or
find this life of living with group, hive like, perhaps an easier life than the
one they leave behind. That besides, even if each individual did indeed make
that conscious choice guided by an inner light leading him to God…should he
really have done so?
I’ve wondered therefore, does one really need to abandon the
world in order to achieve that higher consciousness that they say is manifested
as pure energy in the Brahman? The sublimated submission of the Sufi may seem
to border on the lunatic fringe. Indeed walking the streets in rags, living in
a cocoon of one’s making is outside the purview of the ‘normal’.
However living that philosophy of simple submission, and
doing ones best in the given circumstances, striving to make a positive
contribution, as and when one can, feeding a smile and healing a soul, is
perhaps all the religion one needs. Certainly works for me…
Vinny Jain
8/4/14
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