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May 2012, No. 147

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Where is my guru dakshina?
by Acharya K. Sadananda

When the Day is Done
by Chetana Neerchal

He Who Kindles Love
by Uma Bhatnagar

Tasmai Shri Gurave Namaha
by Swami Sarveshananda

“Where is my guru dakshina?”
by Acharya K. Sadananda
Based on the article originally printed in Hinduism Today, January 2010; edited for print herein

A long time ago, I requested Pujya Gurudev to record a series of 30-minute talks for public radio broadcasts. After he kindly completed the same, when he was handing over the tapes to me, he asked, “Where is my guru dakshina for this?”

At that time, I was still new to the Mission. I was not sure what I should give him. So I spontaneously gave him a signed blank check, asking him to fill it up with whatever amount he thinks I should give. Swamiji took it, looked at me, and kept the check. After two days, the secretary returned the check to me and I found that he had filled it as payable to “Hari Om,” and under the box for the amount, he wrote, “Lots of blessings.”

In spiritual evolution, sadhana chatushtaya curbs the overly free lifestyle of the sadhaka. While karma yoga first converts the adharmik ajnani to become a dharmik ajnani, jnana yoga blesses the dharmik ajnani to become a dharmik jnani. The ajnani seeker follows dharma deliberately; the jnani follows it spontaneously.

When the Day Is Done
by Chetana Neerchal

He Who Kindles Love
Talk by Uma Bhatnagar; transcribed by Akhilesh Menawat
Students at the 2011 Dharma Sevak Course were asked to reflect and speak on three spiritual questions. Below is the satsang presentation made by long-time devotee, Uma Bhatnagar.

I’ve been dreading this moment [to speak] although I teach at a university in San Francisco. This is a very personal topic, so I can’t guarantee that there might not be tears.

When I first saw those three questions [all students were asked to answer], I first thought, actually my answer to all three of them is Param Pujya Gurudev. He is the person who has given my life meaning, direction, and through the most terrible times, total support. This has been the case since 1983 until today.

When I was about 13-14 years old, I went on a ski trip and came across a copy of Vivekachudamani, which was too profound for a young girl. But at that point, there was some resonance. I read it and just felt there is something in it that just calls me and to which I willingly respond. Later, when I went to college and majored in Philosophy and Religion, I studied with Joseph Campbell.

Then, I went on to the University of Pennsylvania to do graduate work in South Asian Studies and worked on a Ph.D. in Vedanta. I was working on Ramanuja’s commentary on Bhagavad Gita. My family members were saying, “What are you doing? You’re studying Sanskrit. You’re studying Hindi. Is this a practical course of action?” But I had also found in a bookstore when I was maybe 16-17 a small booklet of Ramana Maharishi, and again, I felt some resonance. So, I did a terrible thing that I should always regret as a booklover: I cut out the photo from the book, and I put it—not knowing about mandirs or anything—on some small space in front of which I would sit and do whatever kind of meditation, or at least concentration, that you can do when you don’t know very much. That was a constant.

I never thought I would have a teacher, or at least a living teacher, in my life. So, in the meantime, I got married in India. My husband is originally from Punjab. I had two children born in India, Chandra and Gayatri. I see a lot of familiar faces here also; we all know each other as the parents of individual kids in Bala Vihar and CHYK.

We had travelled extensively in India; our family hobby was to go on yatra. We went to Badri, Kedar, Gangotri, Rameshwaram, Mathura, Vrindavan, Ayodhya, Chitrakoot, almost everywhere. And again, it was a very profound experience. I was immersed personally and professionally in Indian culture, as it has been my deepest interest. Sometimes I shock myself when I look in the mirror to comb my hair, realizing then that I am white. But everything I love derives from Indian tradition and culture. There is an old song of Raj Kapoor: “Mera juutaa hai Japaani, ye patluun Englishtani, sar pe laal topi ruusi, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani.” So, yes, that is my predicament, as it were.

It is at this point, in 1983-84 that I met Pujya Gurudev. I was in our study room at the University of Pennsylvania and there was a flyer on the wall with his photograph. The photograph just struck me, so I called and the number and the person who answered said, “Why don’t you come over and meet him?” So I did.

I arrived at Kusum Patel’s house and I remember distinctly that there was a dining area to the left, it was teatime, and the room was rather dim. And Swamiji’s—we used to call him Swamiji—Swamiji’s back was to me in the chair and there was a light over the table where he was eating; I think it was poha. There was quite a narrow distance between him and the wall, so I was kind of guided over to him. He didn’t look at me; he was just eating. I pranam-ed, and as I came up, we both kind of looked at each other at the same time, and as he gave me, what I’m sure many of you have had, that deep, penetrating look. A look where, from his beautiful eyes, you feel he is really seeing you, in your entirety, to the bottom of your soul, the good and the bad. And then there was a gentleness and a kindness there. I was (I basically had no chance) done at that point.

Thereafter, I was inspired. I went to camp, I came back and started Chinmaya Bala Vihar, I started Study Groups at home, and all this evolved into the Tri-state center. Swami Shantanandaji came and things began to just blossom, with more devotees joining. And it’s just been wonderful since then.

The time came when it was just by Pujya Gurudev’s grace that I was able to travel with him around the world and render him service. I accompanied him in the United States and Canada, and then internationally as well—London, Switzerland, Bahrain, Nigeria, Kenya, Mauritius, Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong, Jakarta, Australia, and around India (with the exception of some cities, such as Ahmedabad and Indore). That was purely his grace; I have no explanation to this day as to how it happened.

As many of you know, when Pujya Gurudev willed something to happen, even though I had 2 kids at the time, it just manifested. So I am forever indebted to him. And the irony of course is that when I approached him, I approached him as an Advaitin, a Vedantin, and of course, he was quite a jokester, so he transformed me into a bhakta. And I am his nitya-dasi. I can never, repay that debt to him.

What gives me peace is Pujya Gurudev—all that he represents. And while he gives me tremendous peace, he also give me exquisite joy. There are moments of burning anguish and tremendous pain. And, as a scholar, I know this is a certain spectrum that is a given. For anyone who thinks that maybe the bhakti path is a light one, I would say it is quite the contrary. You need a lot of fortitude—because your mind is not your own. It is not in your control because you relinquish that control—willingly relinquish it. If a symbol exists for this, it is the idea of a hollow bamboo, the venu [flute]—that you surrender yourself so that you can be played to the touch of the Divine. You surrender your actions, your entire agenda.

After Pujya Gurudev departed from his physical form, as with many people, I was shattered. My life fell apart completely. In a space of six months, six relatives died—my mother, my father, my mother-in-law, my two brothers-in-law, and my sister-in-law. And I don’t have any brothers and sisters, so my husband’s family was my family—so many people in such a short time. It was tragic and shocking. And to top it off, I had been married for 28-29 years and that marriage broke. So there I was, with everything broken.

Again, my rock and support was Pujya Gurudev, and those who are accomplishing his work—in particular, Swami Shantanandaji. People said to me, “What are you going to do now?” And I was in servant mode. I didn’t have anything to accomplish. I knew I had to survive somehow, but I didn’t have a burning ambition to suddenly become an attorney. I thought I could go back to school and finish my doctorate, for which I had done all the course work.

Finally, I reinvented myself in another way. What was my focal point, and remains my focal point, is Pujya Gurudev and what he represents. To me, he is many different things, and certainly, a portal to something greater. In serving him, I began to understand that I had thought of myself as an Advaitin, thinking that the bhakti tradition is not for me. And I had even cheekily said that to him at some time. I had said, “Oh, I’m not a gopi.” And he had just laughed and said, “We’ll see.” It was true. He sometimes had that quality of pushing you beyond your comfort zone into an area where things were new and unexpected, and you had to just surrender and trust.

Pujya Gurudev was an ultimate rasika. He was a great connoisseur of music, dance, literature, and poetry, both Indian and Western. He was also a great connoisseur of tennis; he loved watching Wimbledon and the French Open. He allowed us to serve him. And he allowed us to bring whatever interest we had and offer it to him.

He was ever santushta, and everyone left his presence feeling satisfied, whether it was a child, or an adult, or someone with a burning problem. I think everyone went away feeling that they had been acknowledged, that the problem had been taken off their shoulders. They went away with a warm feeling, a feeling that they had really been blessed.

I am reminded of when Pujya Gurudev would come back after the last class of the day, or after the last bhiksha of the day, or after the last pranam. There is a beautiful verse from Gopi Gita (verse 12) and its rough English translation is, “At the end of the day, You show us again Your lotus face, framed by blue-black curls, covered in dust from herding the cows. O gallant One, kindle love in our hearts.”

Tasmai Shri Gurave Namaha
Based on talks on Guru Stotram by Brahmachari Uddhav Chaitanya (now Swami Sarveshananda); transcribed by Rupali Gupta

How does the master help us grow?
At a camp in Chicago, somebody asked Pujya Guruji, “In spite of attending satsanga regularly for 30-40 years, I don’t find a systematic development or change in myself. So, what is the necessity or the purpose of attending satsanga?”

Guruji replied with a story. He said a similar question had been in a spiritual journal and it had stirred up a lot of doubts and discussions. Finally all the discussions came to a finish when one gentleman wrote this beautiful letter to the editor: For the past so many years, I have been eating regularly, three times a day. And today if you ask me what I have eaten and when, I will not be able to give you exact answers. But I definitely know that if I had not eaten regularly for the past so many years since I was born, I would not have been able to write this to you.

We may not be able to remember what has happened, how it happened, what we have read, or what we have undergone. But whatever we have gone through has made us what we are now. So all our efforts will definitely have their effect, and these effects will impact our life. It’s just that these effects may not manifest immediately because we are trying to clean up an accumulation of lifetimes of dirt.

Aneka janma samprapta: We have accumulated all kinds of tendencies through different lives. All these impressions have to be totally wiped out from our chitta, the memory bank. Chitta can be defined as RAM (Random Access Memory) in computer terminology, where everything we process or experience gets recorded. And as these recorded patterns pile up, they express as actions. To reach this state we must have gone through several different kinds of yonis (wombs). If someone does something wrong or if someone says something wrong, we tend to get irritated, “Have I not told you how to do it? Why did you make the mistake?” But imagine the guru’s love and compassion. He keeps repeating the same tattva in different ways so that different students can easily understand it. Never does he get disappointed that the students are not catching it.

Once there were two disciples who fought vigorously with each other. They both approached the guru and said, “Swamiji, he did this . .  . !” “Tell me,” said the guru, “who started it all?” One said, “Swamiji, he beat me! He called me names!” and the other disciple said, “He also called me names!” The guru asked, “What did you call him?” “I called him a donkey.”

The guru, instead of solving the problem, started laughing loudly. The students were puzzled. The guru asked, “How many years have you been in the ashram?”One student said, “Five and a half years” and the other said, “Six years.” The guru laughed even more loudly and said, “For five and half to six years, I have been telling that you are satchidananda svarupa and it never clicked. Yet today he called you a donkey and you think that is real!”

The guru always repeats the same thing to us: you are satchidananda. In spite of this repeated knowledge, seeing that we are still not grasping it, the guru does not feel disappointed. Instead, he teaches us the knack of eliminating the tendencies that we have accumulated over many lives through these beautiful processes called karma yoga (for the body), bhakti yoga (for the mind), and jnana yoga (for the intellect). When someone asks, “Are you a karma yogi, bhakta, or jnani?” the three cannot be separated, because we don’t just exist at a body level, mind level, or intellectual level. Whatever action expresses through the body should be karma yoga. All our emotions should be dedicated to the Lord. And intellectually our manana should be continuous.

The guru communicates spiritual knowledge to us with a tremendous amount of compassion and understanding. In Vivekachudamani, Adi Shankaracharya calls it ahetuka daya, or compassion without cause. It is not a compassion born out of reasoning or logic. If logic and reasoning were to be applied, we would not be deserving of such compassion. In spite of what we are, the master still showers his grace on us.