IN M Y
O P I N I O N
Hindu AND American
How unity in diversity defines my religion, my country,
its people and myself
B Y S A R I K A P E R S A U D
THOUGH AMERICA IS CONVENTIONALLY seen as a country based
in Abrahamic values, one can easily see how seamlessly the values of Sanatana
Dharma, or Hinduism, compliment traditional American ideals. From my own
experience, I have observed how Sanatana Dharma and the idea of being an
American create a larger sense of purposeful direction within an individual.
Sanatana
means eternal, and dharma means duty or purpose; thus, Sanatana Dharma
is a way of life, older than time itself, that directs one toward fulfilling
their true potential. However, Sanatana Dharma does not outline only “one way”
for a person to find their purpose in the world. There are countless directions
one can take toward fulfilling their dharma.
The
very nature of Sanatana Dharma is limitlessness, and its understanding of
freewill is a basic American ideal. One is free to explore any way that they
choose to create their identity. This has led to a rather pliable definition of
the prototypical “American.” The average one from New York City is vastly
different than the average one from Houston. Similarly, there is no strict
definition of who a Hindu is. Sanatana Dharma is a religion of incredible
multiplicity in practices and philosophies. There is no strict dogma or
ultimate set of rules. The definition of a Hindu is usually cited as “one who
believes and practices the teachings of the Vedas,” but there is no set
requirement of which beliefs of the Vedas must be adhered to or accepted.
While
there is a national character one can identify with as an American, and there
are certain purposes one can identify with as a Hindu, neither delineates one
binding set of characteristics for the individual. While we all have roles that
we identify with, our true identity is something beyond them. To the Hindu, who
we really are is something greater, something universally encompassing. Beneath
our self-judgments and personalities lies something more permanent and
universal. Thus, one’s true identity is boundless. This points to a core
unifying principle of Sanatana Dharma—the essential oneness of all things.
“There is on Earth no diversity,… as a unity only is it to be looked upon—this
indemonstrable, enduring Being.” (Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, 4.4.19-20) While
from a worldly standpoint, we all come from different backgrounds, in essence
we are all one. We are all composed of the same subatomic particles, held in
existence by the same energy. And at the deepest level, there is no
diversity—only smooth, peaceful oneness. Within all of us is this proclivity
towards unity and balance. This is what Hindus identify as God: the deepest
essence of our being, that which unites us all. This is where sacredness is
found in all things, where Divinity lies in the magnificent and the
insignificant. Not only is every creature seen as sacred—every moment is
sacred, each worth our full awareness, presence and attention.
Here,
in the profound spirituality of Hinduism, is a clear likeness of American
culture: diversity in the context of unity. While preserving a sense of
national and personal identity is important in both Hinduism and “Americanism,”
there is an ultimate sense of oneness across all people that both recognize. By
accepting this unifying Hindu belief of oneness, we are accepting and adhering
to the basic American idea that all people are equally free and deserve to
fulfill their life’s purpose in whichever way they so choose. In this way,
American society becomes for the Hindu a place where one is allowed to discover
their dharma in an environment of unconditional acceptance.
(SARIKA PERSAUD, of Hindu Students
Council in New York, submitted this for the Hindu American Foundation’s 2011
essay contest.)
S A C R E D A R T S
Poetess and Minstrel, Parvathy Baul Lives and Dances in her Beloved’s Divine Heart
Bengal’s Mausumi Pairal heard Baul songs at age sixteen and was transformed. Initiated as Parvathy Baul, today she takes her Gurus’ songs to the world.
Bengal’s
Vaishnava bards, the Bauls, form a distinct community, living a life of
self-imposed poverty, dedicated exclusively to worship through the yoga of
song. Once considered an auspicious spiritual asset in their rural farming
society, they were supported by alms. But India’s green revolution has robbed
small family farmers of their independent livelihood. Today’s Bauls have very
few to beg from. So, like many of India’s artists, the Bauls must find new ways
to survive. Here follow the stories of one Baul woman and her husband, a Kerala
master puppeteer, whose life’s work is to express and preserve the ancient Hindu
traditions.
BY
RASHMI SAHAI, HONG KONG
HER HONEY-SOAKED,
VELVETY VOICE is soothing to the ears; while talking, she often bursts into
innocent laughter. Looks are deceptive. This beautiful, petite, saffron-clad
woman with ankle-length hair boldly abandoned established society to join
Bengal’s mystic wandering poets, the Bauls. A singer, painter and storyteller,
born Mousumi Pairal and now known as Parvathy Baul, she broke the umbilical
cord with West Bengal and traveled to far-flung Trivandrum in Kerala to fulfill
her spiritual calling. She now travels around the world to spread her Baul
gurus’ message of divine love. Parvathy Baul is now well known for her
masterful solo rendering in the oldest style of Baul song and dance, using
three traditional instruments, all played at the same time. I was fortunate
enough to have her answer my questions, letting her tell her own story of life
in the Baul world.
What attracted you to this path? I was first
exposed to the Baul path as a 16-year-old art student in Viswa-Bharati in
Shantiniketan. Phulmaladi, a Baul singer, would visit our campus and fill the
atmosphere with her songs of prema [love] and bhakti. I was trained a bit from
childhood in Hindustani music, but the voice of Phulmaladi was entirely
different. There was a kind of unknown longing in her song and an indication of
an inner path less traveled. This was my first attraction. I started visiting
the Baul ashrams and learning from Phulmaladi. After a year, Phulamadi
suggested that if I wanted to be a true Baul, I should get initiated. One day I
witnessed a performance by 80-year-old Shri Sanatan Das Baul from Bankura
village of West Bengal. I was so moved by the complete devotion and surrender
of a sadhaka.
As
a student of artistic expression, I had been searching for a true and
unpretentious path. Baul gave me all of that, and it also gave me the inner
world of freedom. This is what I was looking for.
Once
you decided to follow the path, how did you proceed from there? I went to
Sanatan Baba in his ashram in Khoirboni. It was a spring afternoon and he was
standing on a small porch, tall and dark, with his hair tied in a top-knot. He
was full of compassion in the face of my curious questions. The first thing he
asked me was if I had my lunch. I was then served delicious warm lunch by his
daughters-in-law, Gita and Moni. He promised to talk to me later. The next
fifteen days were spent on the same small porch. He didn’t even ask my name. On
the fifteenth day, on the way to the market, he started singing. I didn’t know
what to do, so I remained quiet. He looked at me and lovingly chided, “Stupid
girl, why don’t you also sing?” Joyfully, I started singing. This was my first
lesson.
Sanatan
Das Baul became my diksha guru. He initiated me in the same way he was initiated
by his own guru, Nitai Khepa. The term khepa refers to a mystic fully immersed
in celebration of Divinity, completely abandoning the things of the world, to
the point of seeming to be “mad,” just like Siva. Siva is a khepa, having
abandoned his golden abode in Kashi and becoming an ascetic, ever immersed in
Divinity, sitting in the funeral grounds, detached.
My
guru used to take me with him when he went from house to house begging for alms
of rice and vegetables. He taught me what he had learned from his guru. He then
suggested I go out and learn from other gurus to enhance my knowledge. You can
have as many gurus as you like, but you can only belong to one gurukula.
What role does the guru play in the life of a Baul disciple? The guru is the
most important person in an aspiring Baul’s life. It is the guru who initiates
you to the path, which is otherwise not possible. It is the guru who infuses
the grace and love in a disciple, transforming iron into gold. It is with the
guru’s grace that the disciple’s heart opens like a lotus flower, to experience
pure bliss within. A lotus flower blooms normally in the morning, but it is the
sun’s rays that touch the core of the flower, nourishing and nurturing it. The
guru’s grace connects one’s soul to the Divine.
“Truely mad was
Shiva; He left his golden place, came and sat down at the cremation ground.
Always drunk in higher consciousness, intoxicated in divine love and madness…”
It
is through the blessing of the guru that some sadhakas are able to strongly
adhere to the path, walking till the very end, while others leave the path in
the middle. One needs a guru to get the strength needed to walk on this path.
Do the gurus also impart a formal singing training? No (laughing), no,
there is no need of a formal training. This path is of complete love and surrender.
Unless a complete surrender of the ego is made, one cannot be called a true
Baul. Once you start singing, you abandon yourself in the complete bliss of the
moment, you merge with the song, which is a vehicle to reach the Beloved. When
you submit yourself to the Divine, where is the need of melody and rhythm?
A
fakir used to sing at the door of Mirabai. He had no musical sense. People
complained to Mirabai about him being off tune. They asked her, “Why won’t you
make him stop?” She smiled and answered, “Although he has no raag [tune], his
song has no dearth of anurag [love, devotion]. That is why I love his singing
and can’t ask him to stop.”
What kind of training then does a guru impart to the disciple? My guru, Sanatan
Das Baul, taught me Baul songs for seven years. I used to sing with him in all
the festivals. He taught me right on the spot while the concert was going on.
He used to sing a song to me and I had to repeat phrase by phrase. This is the
oral tradition. He was also very particular about teaching me the footwork of
Baul dance and to play the duggi, the hip-drum.
Later,
when he thought I was ready, he told me to go out and practice. This journey
away from the guru is also essential for the spiritual progress of a Baul.
During that time, one day, when I was singing in Murshidabad in North Bengal, a
professor and connoisseur of Baul songs told me about another Baul guru,
Shashanko Goshai (she chuckles).
What makes you chuckle when you think of Shashanko Goshai? I am reminded of
how I forced Shashanko Gosai to take me as his disciple. He was 97 years old
and very hesitant to take a female disciple. To dodge me, he kept changing his
house, but finally I tracked him down. He was not happy to see me, but I was
adamant. Against his wishes, I sang him a song taught to me by my diksha guru.
After that he could not say no to me outright, because he knew Sanatan Baba and
had sung with him. However, to break my spirit, he made things very difficult
for me. He refused me any place to stay in his house, so I slept outside in his
courtyard. It was winter and I didn’t have a blanket. On the second day I
bought myself a blanket, but in the middle of the night I heard him saying, “My
God! It is so cold.” So I went in and covered him with my blanket. He didn’t complain.
These hardships continued for a month or so. I became disheartened, and one day
I decided to give up. That very day, he decided to take me under his tutelage.
After this, there was no looking back.
No
one has ever taught me with such love and dedication as he did. Some days he
taught me as many as 40 songs. He helped me to realize the depth and vastness
of this tradition and inspired me to take the path of aloneness shown by great
masters, whether in the music form or in the inner search. His patience and
faith in me helped me become what I am today.
Can you tell us about your musical instruments? Each sadhaka
chooses the particular instruments they will use. I use ektara (or gopi
yantra), the duggi (or bama), and the chilambu (or nupur). I started using
duggi and ektara because both my gurus also used them; however, there was no
formal training.
Out
of all these, ektara has a special place in the Baul tradition. It can be
traced back to the Sama Veda. Ektara, or gopi yantra, is a traditional one-string
instrument, made of dried pumpkin, gourd, wood or coconut shell and plucked
with one finger. The ektara is usually held in the right hand and placed very
close to the ear, which gives a constant Aum sound to the singer. The sound of
ektara is synonymous to the sound of Aum, the anhat naad or unstruck sound.
Sanatan Baba used to tell me, “We are only the bearers of ektara. It is the
ektara which decides on travels, sings and meets people. We only are carrier of
the ektaras. I found endlessness in its one string, enough for me to cross my
life with this single string.”
Duggi,
or bama, is a small bass drum made up of clay and leather, weighing around four
and a half pounds, which I strap around my body during the performance. Both
ektara and duggi are tailor-made in proportion to the length of the body and
arms of the user. I also use the chilambu nupur, anklet bells.
Bauls and both your gurus are in Bengal. Why did you settle in
Kerala?
For a Baul, the Earth is the bed and the sky is the roof. Bauls feel at home
everywhere; they seek a realm beyond boundaries. So Bauls are natural
travelers, traveling in search of the masters to seek knowledge. I came to
Kerala in 1997 as a young student. I wanted to know our traditions, which are
purely derived from the temple culture. In Kerala, temples and other forms of
art and music are very well preserved. Here I met Ravi Gopalan Nair, my
husband, and together we built up a Baul akhra in Trivandrum and also a space
to meet other artists and practitioners. I have been traveling between Bengal
and Kerala since then, and also other places, to give performances, interact,
learn, teach, share and meet masters of different genres.
Can you tell us about Rabindranath Tagore’s association with the
Baul community? Traditionally, Baul singing happens in the satsangas
in the Baul ashrams or at the yearly festivals held at Baul ashrams, known as
mocchab. Bauls also gather for annual melas [fairs]. The most renowned fair is
Jaidev Kenduli Mela, which has been held each year in Kenduli village for the
last 500 years. This is the village where the saint-poet Jayadeva composed his
renowned work, Gita Govindam.
Previously
the Baul performances and festivities were only in villages. It was Tagore who
introduced the Baul tradition to the urban intellectual society. He started the
tradition of organizing the Poush Mela in Shantiniketan. From here the Baul
tradition spread far and wide. Tagore’s own compositions were influenced and
inspired by the most celebrated Baul composer, Lalan Fakir of Kushtia
(Bangladesh), who lived around 250 years ago.
How would you explain Baul to a layman? Baul is an ancient
yogic oral and musical tradition which influenced the Bhakti movement of
Vaishnavas. Many believe the term Baul first appeared in Vrindavandas’s
15th-century Chaitanya-Bhagvata. Etymologically, Baul is thought to be from the
Sanskrit vatul, “divine madness,” a state of lightness where ego is completely
transformed in the experience of pure love and true surrender, bhakti. [The
colloquial Bengali word batul also means “mad,” a person who is open and free,
not chained to the mundane.] Elements of Siddha, Tantra, Vaishnavism, Buddhism
and Sufism can be recognized in the tradition.
A
Baul sings, “Crazy! Crazy! Everyone says I am crazy! But often I wonder, is it
the world or me?” For the love of their Beloved, the Moner Manush “The Man of
the Heart,” Bauls surrender and abandon everything to unify with Him. Progress
on this path is achieved through annihilation of all emotional, mental,
physical and physiological bonds.”
Bauls
used to be a common sight in West Bengal, especially in the Bolpur districts of
Bhirbum of Bakura, Murshidabad and Nadia. They wandered around, never settling
down, leading a nomadic life, singing about the love of their Beloved. Social,
political and economic changes have prompted the Bauls to settle, and now many
ashrams have been set up by the gurus. Many Bauls have comfortably adapted to
urban living conditions; some are now even settled abroad. And while Baul
performances used to be solo, today we do have some ensembles.
Can you say more about Baul songs and music? A Baul converses
with his or her Beloved through songs and chanting, trying to connect with Him
in the heart. Baul’s unique songs are carried forward century after century
through the master-disciple system. These metaphorical songs, based on mundane
life experiences, are composed mostly in simple, colloquial Bengali. Their
special language is called sandhya bhasha, “twilight language,” and is loaded
with cryptic mystical meaning.
The Baul Lineage’s Mystic Message
Excerpts
from Baul songs, translated by Parvathy Baul
The Ananda Bazaar
O
the mad one, O my heart
Let us go to the bazaar of Ananda
If you want have the true Darshan.
It is always day there, always shining.
Let us go to the bazaar of Ananda
If you want have the true Darshan.
It is always day there, always shining.
No
nights, no darkness.
It is a sacred space full and complete.
The sacred moon rises there.
The space is surrounded with Vindu,
As if the moon has shadowed the moon.
Go to the four-petaled lotus,
Awaken kula kundalini.
It is a sacred space full and complete.
The sacred moon rises there.
The space is surrounded with Vindu,
As if the moon has shadowed the moon.
Go to the four-petaled lotus,
Awaken kula kundalini.
Find
the stillness inside;
Find the silence in the heart and mind.
At the sacred space between your eyes
The jewel is hidden in the form of Shiva.
Find the silence in the heart and mind.
At the sacred space between your eyes
The jewel is hidden in the form of Shiva.
—Haure
Goshai
The Practice of Dying
O
my heart, do the practice of dying
It brings freedom from the bondage of
Birth and death; born to die,
Dying to be born again; death, birth,
Nothing but endless suffering.
It brings freedom from the bondage of
Birth and death; born to die,
Dying to be born again; death, birth,
Nothing but endless suffering.
Ida
and pingala two Nadi,
Always chanting “Hamsa”
Thru the days and nights.
In the middle, the supreme sushumna,
Piercing all the chakras,
Swings in the two-petaled lotus
In the bhava of ‘I am That.’
Always chanting “Hamsa”
Thru the days and nights.
In the middle, the supreme sushumna,
Piercing all the chakras,
Swings in the two-petaled lotus
In the bhava of ‘I am That.’
—Rasika
Dasa
The Diamond Truth Tale
O
my mad heart,
Where do you seek the divine treasure?
Leave all that insanity; be in silence.
If you want to attain the unattainable One,
Free yourself from all that is
Fragile and temporary.
Where do you seek the divine treasure?
Leave all that insanity; be in silence.
If you want to attain the unattainable One,
Free yourself from all that is
Fragile and temporary.
Know
yourself. Six thieves live in your house.
Go not to them. Go to the sweet
invisible one that always flows in love.
Go not to them. Go to the sweet
invisible one that always flows in love.
Who
is it awake in you?
And who is it asleep?
Who is it that dreams
While you are asleep in the night?
The One in the middle,
Hold on to His feet.
And who is it asleep?
Who is it that dreams
While you are asleep in the night?
The One in the middle,
Hold on to His feet.
The
main door of your house
Is beneath, in the patala.
It is locked. Open that door
By going beyond the conscious self,
The dark sky. And the door will open,
By the grace of guru. Be patient.
You will enter the door
And journey upward.
Is beneath, in the patala.
It is locked. Open that door
By going beyond the conscious self,
The dark sky. And the door will open,
By the grace of guru. Be patient.
You will enter the door
And journey upward.
The
truth remains.
It is neither born nor decays.
It can be realized in this body
Only through surrender to the guru.
Rasikadasa says, my mad heart,
Drink only the truth.
By knowing that worldliness is illusory,
Keep faith, my heart,
And the divine treasure will be yours.
It is neither born nor decays.
It can be realized in this body
Only through surrender to the guru.
Rasikadasa says, my mad heart,
Drink only the truth.
By knowing that worldliness is illusory,
Keep faith, my heart,
And the divine treasure will be yours.
—Rasika
Dasa
The
songs are known as shabd jnana [“sound knowledge,”] or sahaja jnana [as the
Baul sadhana is also known as sahaja yoga.] They are deemed Spoken Truth or the
Living Wisdom, for they erupt from deep inside the soul of the yogic body, from
the understanding and realization of the sadhaka’s heart. The first preserved
Baul song was Charya Geeti, composed by 7th-century Bouddha Abadhoti siddha
yogis, the wandering Buddhist monks, in the spoken Bengali of that time,
similar to Pali.
Baul
singing is meditation in motion, as we sing, dance and play the instruments at
the same time. When the heart and soul are soaked in the devotion of the song
and the body is in continuous motion, the core enters a meditative state, still
and silent. A Baul singer transcends mere aesthetic performance, breaking the
barrier of the mundane to soar into a plane of sheer inner experience of
spiritual seeking. Baul music takes its source and inspiration from the folk
music of Bengal. Like Sufi kalam, these songs are speech oriented. We never say
“sing a song,” we say “speak a song,” as these songs are for remembering the
spoken truth of realized souls and of pure Love.
What keeps you strong on this path, when all around you people
leave this path mid-way to tend to the practicalities of life? I am not sure who
is more practical: someone who is attached to the Divine—when one unchangeable
truth is that life is transient and only God is permanent—or someone who is cut
off from Divinity and attached to the practical world, which is temporary. As
the Baul song goes, “Some are mad for worldly attachment called love; some are
mad for glory and pride; some are mad for material benefit; some mad for fame
and power. They do not know what they are looking for. Always deluded by their
own mad desires, they do not know the difference between the true and false.’”
Search
YouTube for “Parvathy Baul” to listen to her music. Portions of this article
are drawn from an interview conducted by Martin Harris. See sufijournal.org/an-exclusive-interview-with-parvathy-baul/.
A Kerala Art Master’s Life and Vision of the Roots and Evolution of Hindu Art
BY G.K. NAIR, KERALA
RAVI GOPALAN NAIR
WAS BORN IN APRIL, 1959, in Nedumangad, a small town in Thiruvananthapuram,
Kerala’s southern district. He is a master puppet maker, puppeteer, wooden mask
maker, performer, trainer, photographer and artistic director for many of the
performing art groups of Kerala and the Bauls of West Bengal.
Ravi’s
career began in his father’s professional photography studio. He worked there
until 1981, then joined his elder brother, G. Venu, in Irinjalakukuda, Trissur.
Venu was working to revive Kerala’s lesser-known artistic traditions. Ravi
focused on breathing new life into Pava Kathakali, the glove puppet tradition
of Kerala. He received training from the old masters of both puppet making and
manipulation.
On
the same campus was the Ammannur Gurukulam, run by the late maestro Ammannur
Madhava Chakyar, who was working to save the ancient forms of Sanskrit drama,
such as Koodiyattam, from extinction. Ravi recalls, “During this ten-year
period with my brother, I was blessed to interact with masters of almost all
the traditional dance, theater, puppetry and other artistry practices.”
During
this time, the outside world started to call him. “From 1984 on, there were
occasions for me to serve as the artistic director for groups performing
traditional Kerala arts at international festivals. Many of our village artists
traveled outside India for the first time with me. I was careful in preparing
them so that they would never feel inferior. I made sure our art was presented
with the dignity of its lineage.”
In
1992, Ravi left Natana Kairali and joined Parate Labor, a work project to redo
the Para Theatre of Jerzy Grotowsky in France. From 1992 to 1995 he was trained
there in the techniques of modern European theater, practicing over 16 hours a
day. In 2000 he worked with the founder of the Bread and Puppet theater in
Vermont, USA. Through the coming decade, Ravi was constantly on the move,
presenting Kerala’s dance and art through Europe and America. He was an
artistic director in many important performances, including traditional Kerala temple
dances never before performed outside India: the Thirayattom dance, presented
in London, Switzerland, Amsterdam, Belgium and France by the Musée
d’Ethnography of Geneva, Switzerland; and the Theyyam dance form presented by
the Maison des Cultures du Monde at the Festival de la Imaginaire in Paris. He
also collaborated with the Musée D’ Ethnography of Geneva in the production of
Sketches of Kerala, a series of three documentary films: The Gods Never Die,
The Time of the Puppets and The Three Wise Monkeys.
In
2011 Ravi was honored by the Madras Craft Foundation and Friends of
Dakshinchitra with its coveted Virudhu, lifetime achievement award, for his
work in preserving India’s cultural arts.
Taking Baul Singers to the World
So
how did a Kerala artist get involved with the Bengali Baul tradition? One
answer comes from art critic/journalist Renu Ramnath, who told HINDUISM TODAY,
“In 1997, during one of her vagabond trips, Moushumi Parial (who later became
Parvathy Baul) reached Irinjalakuda and met the multi-faceted Malayali artiste
Ravi Gopalan Nair, a photographer-turned puppeteer and mask maker. More
importantly for Parvathy and other Baul singers, he was also a
performer-trainer. It didn’t take long before Moushumi married Ravi.” Meanwhile
she received her initiation in Bengal and became Parvathy Baul. By then Ravi
had moved into the international world of performance theater. Ravi and
Parvathy collaborated, incorporating the Baul tradition in their puppet shows.
The couple first appeared on stage together at the Brooklyn International Toy
Theater Festival about four years ago, Ravi moving the puppets with musical
support from Parvathy. Since 2010 he has been presenting a group of Baul
singers led by Parvathy in many of the international and national music
festivals in Italy, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland and the US. Thus, Ravi and
his troupe, along with Parvathy and other Bauls, have been staging performances
in India and abroad every year.
For Ravi and Parvathy, their partnership
means more than marriage; it is a life dedicated to the traditional performing
arts and the message carried therein. Ravi expounds, “There is a man in every
woman, a woman in every man, according to the Baul philosophy. Finding the
masculine in the woman and the feminine in the man is part of the practice.”
Spiritual Heritage
Ravi
shared his view of a life in which art, spirituality and the guru parampara
traditions are not separate realms. Ravi is from a family of Saivite Siddha
practitioners. He recalls, “Many of my relatives, both from the paternal and
maternal side, chose to live as avadhutas [penniless monks who live beyond name
and norms]. My father, a photographer by profession, was initiated by the great
Variketti Swami of Manacad, Trivandrum, who always carried a bundle of clothes
which he collected from various families. His studio was a meeting place for
many avadhutas in those days.” Ravi explained that Nedumangad is in the valley
of Agasthyakoodam, believed to be the abode of Maharishi Agasthya. For
centuries this small town has been a home for Saiva siddha yogis and avadhutas.
“Until
1940, many lesser-known traditions of performing art were actively practiced in
Kerala. Now people are going toward academic development. Everything is getting
mixed up without proper practical, hands-on training. We are different. We
refused to go for academic study but stayed with the authentic tradition of
personal training from our many gurus. We will not give up our path of the
guru’s kripa (grace).
“I
met my guru in my father’s studio at the age of 17 while I was assisting my
father with black-and-white photography. His name was Karipoor Muhamad Abdul
Salam, an avadhuta known as the mad man in the street who got beaten by police
and others almost every day. He was a siddha. It was a teaching without
teaching. He opened an inner eye to see the world. In fact, my guru took care
of all my work, including the arrival of Parvathy Baul to Kerala so she could
train with my guidance. I took care of his few material needs until 2007, when he
left his body.
“My
deepest love is for the avadhuta gurus, who have such a beautiful practice for
handling the body and the world around it. I am touched by the intensity of
their silence, love and non-possession. My guru weighed less than 62 pounds. He
never performed any miracles, but they would sometimes manifest spontaneously.
During the last year of his life, he remained stationary, never walking, as if
waiting for something. He even let small ants cover his body. We cleaned him
every day, but soon the ants would cover him again. We could see that his
intention was to be as if in a coffin, getting ready to leave his body.”
Modern Changes
“Sadly,
the infrastructure of our artistic and spiritual culture in Kerala is decaying.
The famous Kodungallur Kovilakam Gurukula, which taught everything from
Sanskrit, drama and ayurveda to elephant handling, is no more. The building has
been taken over by the electric board, and I was told that even the precious
palm-leaf manuscripts of this family were neglected—some eaten by white ants,
and the rest given to people outside India.
“There
was a time when every Namboothiri Illam and Mana landlord had a theater. A few
months back we traveled with our puppets to these old estates. Unfortunately,
since their rice cultivating land has been taken away by the government, most
of the structures are dismantled or broken because they have no money for
maintenance. We did our performance tour to those Mana as thanks for preserving
those traditions until the first half of the last century.
“Similarly,
in Bengal, the farmers used to be the patrons of Baul. Modern economic
development programs have brought down the farmers, who have lost their dignity
and place in society. Today every traditional art practitioner has to invent a
new strategy to carry on the gurus’ path.
“I
give you one story of Parvathy Baul. She went to meet Shri Shashanko Gosai, one
of the oldest known Vaishnava gurus of Baul. Once he took her as a disciple, he
started teaching her, at a high speed, all the songs from his memory. Even when
they were on the roof of a farmer’s house for fifteen days during a Ganga river
flood, he continued teaching, saying, ‘If we die in this flood, in our next
birth we don’t need to learn these songs.’
“He
continued teaching her until his last moment of samadhi, at the age of 100.
Three days before he passed, he called her to come to his home and went
carefully over all the songs he had taught her. Then he declared: ‘It is time
for me to go.’ He sat in siddhasana with a smile and left his body. That moment
was witnessed by only two people—Banamala Dasi [his consort] and Parvathy Baul.
He revealed everything to her before he left his body. The karuna [compassion]
of the guru never fails and never stops its flow.”
Om Tat Sat
(Continued...)
(Continued...)
(My humble salutations to Sadguru Sri Sivaya Subramuniyaswami
ji, Satguru Bodhianatha Velayanswami ji, Hinduism
Today for the collection)
(The Blog is reverently for all the seekers of truth,
lovers of wisdom and to share the Hindu Dharma with others on the
spiritual path and also this is purely a non-commercial blog)
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