By
Siva-Pada-Renu
SRI SWAMI VENKATESANANDA
A DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY PUBLICATION
Seventh Edition: 1981
(2,000 copies)
World Wide Web (WWW) Edition : 1998
Website: http://www.divinelifesociety.org/
This WWW reprint is for free distribution
© The Divine Life Trust Society
Published By
THE DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY
P.O. Shivanandanagar—249 192
Distt. Tehri-Garhwal, Uttaranchal,
Himalayas, India.
CONTENTS
Lord!
Condescend to accept this humble flower, fragrant with the aroma of
thine own divine glory, immeasurable and infinite. Hundreds of savants
and scholars might write hundreds of tomes on your glory, yet it would
still transcend them all.
In accordance with thine ancient promise:
yada yada hi dharmasya glanir bhavati bharata
abhyutthanamadharmasya tadatmanam srijamyaham
paritranaya sadhoonam vinasaya cha dushkritam
dharmasamsthapanarthaya sambhavami yuge yuge
(Gita IV–7, 8)
You, the Supreme Being, the all-pervading Sat-chidaranda-Para-Brahman,
have taken this human garb and come into this world to re-establish
Dharma (righteousness). The wonderful transformation you have brought
about in the lives of millions all over the world is positive proof
of your Divinity.
I am honestly amazed at my own audacity in trying to bring this Supreme
God, Bhagavan Sivananda, to the level of a human being (though Sage
Valmiki had done so while narrating the story to Lord Rama) and to describe
the Yoga of the Yogeshwareshwara, the goal of all Yogins. Lord! I cling
to Thy lotus-feet and beg for Thy merciful pardon.
If, however, these pages do inspire some others to take up Thy cross
and follow Thee, my Gurudev, I shall have been amply justified in this
misadventure. What is Sivananda’s Cross ?
It is:
Meditate
|
Love– |–Serve
|
Realise
This is what has been dealt with in this humble attempt at the presentation
of Sivananda Yoga.
Sivanandarpanamastu.
SIVA-PADA-RENU
(Dust of Sivananda’s Feet),
Swami Venkatesananda.
CHAPTER ONE
In the history of the world there have been sages, saints and prophets
who have practised and preached one or the other modes of approaching
the goal, which is self-realisation. It was Gurudev (in this work, “Gurudev”,
“Swamiji” and “the Master” refer to Swami Sivananda.),
the prophet of integral yoga, who insisted “It is not enough to
practise any one kind of spiritual discipline, however well you may
strive to do so. Every aspirant should incorporate in his spiritual
programme all the items of all the yogas or modes of approaching God.”
Gurudev had no doctrine of his own. He re-delivered the same message
that has from the beginning of time been given to us by the divine.
His were the lips of God. He was one with God. Yet, if we can audaciously
read a doctrine into his teaching, his own unique approach to the science
of yoga can be called “The Yoga of a Little” or the yoga of
synthesis. He warned us that only the harmonious development of the
entire being could take us easily to the goal. A weak spot anywhere
in the structure would ruin the whole.
He composed a rather simple but beautiful little song, which he himself
sang in the Mahamantra tune at every meeting he addressed, especially
during his All-India-Ceylon Tour in 1950.
hare rama, hare rama, rama rama, hare hare
hare krishna, hare krishna, krishna krishna, hare hare
Eat a little, drink a little;
talk a little, sleep a little.
Mix a little, move a little;
serve a little, give a little;
Work a little, rest a little;
study a little, worship a little.
Do asana a little, pranayama a little;
reflect a little, meditate a little,
Do japa a little, do kirtan a little,
write mantra a little, have satsanga a little.
Do all these, little, little. You will have time for all.
Was the Master against doing more of these wonderful things–like
japa, asanas, or meditation? You ask, “Why only a little, why not
much?” Then, we go on to interpret this to mean, “Do at least
a little .. ..” But he really meant just this, “Do a little
of each, don’t specialise.” That was the message–because
the thing that clamours for specialisation is the ego, for the specialist
is admired by the crowd. Specialisation fattens one’s ego, weakens
the spirit of tolerance and understanding, and creates contempt and
hatred.
Yoga is harmony. A beautiful, symmetrical and integral development
of the total being, which means exercising every aspect of your personality
every day. Otherwise there is an imbalance of personality, which is
no yoga. In Gurudev’s way therefore you cannot spend too much time
per day on any one practice, whatever it may be. A true follower of
Swami Sivananda can only do a little of all. Thus there is harmonious
development, health (wholeness) of body, mind and spirit.
Gurudev, while still a senior student at the medical college, was very
eager that people should know the art of healthy living rather than
the technique of healing. The need for curative treatment arises only
when you have been foolish enough to fall ill. Why not prevent it? Soon
after leaving college, he started a magazine called “Ambrosia”
and in that magazine he published every little hint, secret or non-secret,
that he could unearth. People must be educated on how to prevent themselves
from falling ill, not so much on how to find a cure. Curing is only
emergency treatment.
Throughout his life he was passionately devoted to making knowledge
and service available and free to as many people as possible. These
two were unique passions of the Master–health and service. He had
no use at all for secrets (“I have this special exclusive remedy,
come to ME.”) If he came upon a secret theory, it had to be published
the next morning. Once when someone in the ashram wished to prepare
a correspondence course from Swamiji’s writings, publishing one
lesson a month and making money from the project, Swamiji agreed. But
once it was done, Swamiji immediately put the lessons back into book
form and had them published for immediate distribution, mostly free.
He was a professional doctor, who sought by every possible means to
help you not to go to a doctor. Even so the practice of yoga asanas,
which he enthusiastically commenced with the aid of some books while
in Malaya, became part of this whole approach to health. His book on
hatha yoga contains the fundamental essence of the basic ancient texts.
The importance that hatha yoga played in the total scheme of his teachings
was how to keep yourself healthy, really healthy.
How to be healthy? What does ‘health’ really mean? Health
by definition means WHOLENESS. You cannot have physical health at the
expense of mental health. There is no such thing as physical health.
Health being wholeness cannot be divided into physical, mental and spiritual.
A harmonious development of both body and mind was Gurudev’s speciality.
Frequently in his writings on yoga physical culture, he comes back to
mental health, spiritual well-being. If the mind is completely, disorganised
and neurotic, the body cannot be healthy, however many asanas you practise,
for however long, however perfectly.
Gurudev did not neglect his yoga asana practice even for a day. He
himself only started practising them when he was nearly thirty. He insisted,
“It is never too late to start, and there is no condition under
which the asanas should be given up; even in disease the asanas should
only be modified to suit the condition of the body.” At the best
of times he did the sirasasana (headstand) for five or ten minutes.
He also did sarvangasana (shoulder stand), and to these two he added
a few more; a little forward bending, mahamudra, paschimottanasana and
halasana.
Similarly, some mild physical exercises formed part of Gurudev’s
daily routine. “Sitting on your bed, just after you wake up you
can finish these exercises in five minutes” he used to say. Sitting
cross legged, he bent forward, then leaned backward, supporting the
trunk with the palms planted on the bed, then twisted the trunk left
and right. Catching hold of the toes he would roll and swing backward,
making a seesaw with the back. Getting out of bed he would stand and
lean forward against a wall and do some mild trunk twisting exercises.
Anyone can do these, they are so easy and the benefits are incalculable.
What Gurudev loved he enthusiastically encouraged others to do. He
was by no means a yoga asana specialist, yet if he talked to you about
it his enthusiasm was so infectious that you would feel, “Oh I
must start right away.” While still in Malaya, Gurudev’s cook,
Sri Narasimha Iyer, was also swept up by the doctor’s enthusiasm
and eagerly joined him in the yoga asanas (Many years later he became
his Sannyasin-disciple). Swami Sivananda often taught yoga postures
to young men wherever he happened to be, on the platform of a railway
station, or on the pavement. He used to call it ‘aggressive service.’
“Don’t wait till someone comes to you, pays your subscription
and joins your class. Teach him here and now, wherever you are.”
Gurudev was not fond of theories which say: ‘This is the perfection
in this asana.’ His teaching was: “Do what you can now today,
to the best of your ability, sincerely, seriously, honestly–this
is perfection.” If you reach out to that today and if you are regular,
it is possible you might develop a little more, and a little more. But
do NOT look at somebody else, with envy or to copy.
This was another unique feature of Swami Sivananda–he could really
genuinely and sincerely appreciate someone who did something better
than himself. There was not even a trace of jealousy in him. It was
remarkable. For instance if some great hatha yogi visited the ashram
(and many did) and this man performed some fantastic feat, Swamiji would
talk about this man for years to come, with no reservations: “He
is a yogi! He must be unique in the world!” He would openly glorify
his own disciples too.
The Master was also fond of gymnastics and sports, and he loved walking.
Even as a school student he was so efficient at gymnastics that his
instructor often made him teach the class. In the early years in the
ashram life, he used to run around the bhajan (prayer) hall. Can you
imagine this large man, this great world renowned Swami Sivananda, sage
of the Himalayas, the Great Yogi of India, etc. etc. tying up his dhoti
(cloth around his waist) and jogging around a public hall? He was not
self-conscious at all. With an old tennis racket and a ball, he also
used to play with himself against the wall.
In summer Gurudev loved to swim. He had a bald head, and he would sit
on the Ganges bank, naked except for a loin cloth, and rub his body
nicely with oil. He had his own health hints and sunbathing ideas. Not
only must your skin be exposed to the sun, but your tongue and teeth
also. He would sit there, right in the open, smiling, and grinning at
the sun, sticking his tongue out, bathing them in the sunlight.
Health is a vital pre-requisite for spiritual practice, and even for
enjoying life or for running your business efficiently, but health must
include the body, mind and soul. There must be emotional balance, and
rest and diet are also important.
“This is right and that is wrong.” I have never heard him
lay down such categorical imperatives. You find them in his books–but
there he is only relaying traditional teaching. As regards diet he used
to say: “Take sattvic food”, food that does not excite you,
throw you off balance, or disturb your equilibrium. You have to understand
the principle, understand the teaching, and then see what suits you
at the particular stage you are at. The Master himself took very hot,
spicy, pungent food–but that was alright for him. You cannot copy
him. You must discover what sattvic food means to you; as Swamiji also
used to say, “Use your common-sense.” That seems to be difficult!
With food, as with asanas, Gurudev emphasised more the psychic effects:
psychic in the sense of the effect on the nervous system, the mind,
and the inner psychic principle, rather than mere physiological reaction.
So one has to put all this together and imbibe the spirit–the truth
being neither “this” nor “that” but something in
between.
Gurudev was a great believer and exponent of pranayama. He loved it.
His ideal being integral yoga, both exercise of the body and control
of breath (and thereby the life-force) had their place. Pranayama floods
the system with peace and bliss. It is an astonishing fact that Swami
Sivananda devoted several hours of his extremely busy day to his practice.
He was extremely fond of what he called ‘Sukha Purvaka’ or
the ‘Simple Pranayama’ very easy and comfortable. In the winter
he also did bhastrika: it was beautiful to watch him do this. He did
not insist that you should hold your breath as long as possible (as
the orthodox texts seem to imply) but as long as comfortable. Do you
immediately notice the problem? “Inhale as long as comfortable.
Hold as long as comfortable. Exhale as long as comfortable.” Two
words are equally important–’long’ and ‘comfortable’.
It is not as ‘short’ as comfortable–then just anything
will do. No. It must be prolonged. This made Gurudev’s yoga a bit
more difficult than the traditional approach, where a definite rule
or measure is laid down to guide you.
Gurudev’s pranayama involves vigilance. There must be watchfulness,
seriousness, sincerity. You must set out to find your limit, but not
to exceed it. There must be no violence, no force, and no tension at
all. In this way inner harmony is promoted. Yoga has to be practised
seriously but without violence, without the sprit of competition. It
is a beautiful thing. This is Sivananda’s yoga.
Invariably he woke up before 3.00 a.m. which was well before the time
he asked all the spiritual aspirants to rise. At this time he used to
devote over an hour to pranayama alone, and during an extremely busy
day, he would spend at least another three hours in this practice, in
several sessions, whenever he found the time. In the last year of his
life, when he was not able to do very much in the way of yoga asanas,
he said, “At every opportunity I do pranayama; even lying down
I do pranayama and especially at night if I can’t (don’t)
sleep.” If he could, he would prop himself up on some pillows and
do it. This was his advice to almost everyone who met him, “If
you can’t do the yoga asanas properly, just do the best that you
can, but practise a lot of pranayama.” He realised that pranayama,
not merely breathing exercises, has a direct effect on the nervous system
and on the mind. It promotes an inner state of well-being quite different
from that we conventionally call health.
If someone hasn’t been to a doctor for the last six months, we
think that is health. In Gurudev’s case health meant something
more. He had diabetes from the age of about thirty-five and lumbago
later on and there were other problems. But his face was radiant and
shining, his eyes sparkling with energy and humour and his every movement
full of love and wisdom. His mind, his brain, was supremely alert even
when the body was weak. Even physically he was extremely attractive.
A robust figure, which if it had belonged to somebody else might have
been ugly and uncouth, only added to his charm, added to his majesty.
Even the skin was clean, clear, sparkingly well maintained. His clothes
were always spotlessly clean. Even when his body was ill, there was
that extraordinary glow, that radiance.
Once he was down with typhoid, and his body had been so weakened that
on one or two occasions we thought he would pass away. Even then, his
eyes were sparkling, his face radiant. He had been confined to his room
for about three weeks and wanted to see the sun and the Ganges. Slowly
we brought him outside and he lay in his favourite chair. If you had
looked at him then you would have said that there was nothing wrong.
He was beautiful to look at and he was laughing, joking, and talking
to people. After about an hour or so he said, “Alright, let me
go back to bed. Wait, I’ll try and get up by myself.” He planted
both his feet on the floor and holding the arms of the chair tried to
lift himself off ... and collapsed ... luckily, back into the chair
itself. Perhaps you can visualise the whole scene. You and I would probably
have been full of gloom, despair. As he was collapsing, he started to
laugh, “Hm, my legs have lost their strength.” These were
his exact words. “My legs”, not “I.”
The way he reacted to the many ailments and illnesses that assailed
his body can be used as a revolutionary re-definition of the whole concept
of health. Health is a state of mind, a state of inner well-being which
enables you to function, to do your work, your allotted task without
moaning, grumbling. Health is not the body being declared medically
free from illness. Gurudev didn’t mind taking medicines at all;
on the other hand, there was a whole plate full of them after lunch.
His philosophy was that if you can take food for the body, you can also
take some other thing called medicine.
Never once through all his illnesses did he moan or groan and when
doctors entered his room, it was hard for us to convince them that he
was sick. Swamiji would ask, “And how is your health?”
Likewise when some of the ashram swamis went to see him, he was only
concerned about their health, and requested them to look after
themselves. Who was the patient, who was the doctor? Lying in bed he
used to continue his work marvellously well. He was so tremendously
alert and there was always this state of inner well-being. Sometimes
the body functioned 100% sometimes only 80% or 70% and he was prepared
to adjust, prepared to take the body along with him. It looked as though
he graciously allowed some ailments to dwell in his body.
Once he remarked: “There are two or three things I need. So I’m
very careful about them.” He was careful with his eyesight. His
voice was also very important to him. He had a ringing bell-metal voice
throughout his life and he had his own special exercises for it. He
was careful with his teeth. He said: “If you don’t have proper
teeth, you can’t speak well and you can’t eat well.”
He would adopt any measure that any doctor recommended to keep them
clean. Brushing his teeth in the morning was a big ceremony with him.
Thus he protected certain organs. He did not want to be totally and
completely dependent on others. Also, he did not want to lose the instruments
with which he served humanity. When later on he couldn’t move about
freely, he used a walking stick. He would give it to somebody else to
carry, just in case the need arose. “Keep it with you, if I feel
a bit giddy, I’ll take it from you.” The body should not be
helped too much as this would weaken it. Later it became a bit more
difficult and he himself used to hold the stick and walk; then, even
this was not sufficient and he would hold somebody’s hand. But
the body was nor excused; what had to be done, had to be done. The Master’s
mind was alert, vigilant, energetic, powerful. He refused to give in
to the whims of the body. When the legs would hardly move on account
of lumbago and rheumatism, he still insisted: “I’ll come out.
I’ll work in the office”.
What is that state of mind that is able to overcome physical ailments?
What is that state of mind which sees that though the body is weakening,
it is still capable of some functions and those it should be made to
perform cheerfully, whole-heartedly, brilliantly? That is health.
At one stage he used to spend about half an hour in my room before
he went to the office. The steps next to the room were very steep, and
he had to climb them to get to the office. It was alright for some time
when the body was in good health. Then when he had lumbago and could
not walk so easily, he asked for a long stick with the help of which
he used to climb those stairs. Why did he have to go that way? Nobody
knew. One day he could no longer even use his stick and literally bent
down and crawled up. He could easily have said ‘I am not well,
come to my room.’ There was absolutely no despair, no excuses,
no moaning at all; there wasn’t even self-consciousness.
That spirit, that state of mind is called health, where even an ageing
body cannot dampen or weaken the inner spirit even for a moment. He
had this sense of spiritual well-being at all times throughout his life.
One might attribute some of these to what is popularly known as the
kundalini shakti being awakened. This was never discussed. From within
him came an abundance of energy. It filled him and flowed from him constantly.
In 1953 the Parliament of Religions was held in the ashram. Hundreds
of visitors had come and for three days the ashram was a hive of activity.
The last day’s programme was prolonged by Swami Sivananda and concluded
after midnight, and then Swamiji retired. One of the visitors, the Speaker
of the Indian Parliament, wanted to leave very early the next day, and
had asked Swami Sivananda, “Can I have your darshan (audience),
just to see you before I leave?” and Gurudev had agreed. The Speaker
called on the Master at five o’clock that morning. We could hardly
keep our eyes open, but there was not a trace of fatigue on the face
of Swami Sivananda. He had hardly gone to bed two or three hours before
and here he was, talking and chatting freely. That was an extraordinary
feature. No matter how hard he worked, or how much he worked (and let
us not forget that while we were only in our twenties, he was in his
sixties) he always had more physical and mental energy which filled
him and overflowed, filling others with enthusiasm–call it awakened
kundalini, call it self-realisation, call it anything you like.
In 1950 he was sixty three when he undertook an intense two month tour
of the whole of India. During this period he had to address over five
or six mass meetings a day. At each of those meetings Gurudev spoke,
sang and danced as though he could give his very life to those he addressed.
There were small private gatherings too and informaly visits to same
institutions, and there also Gurudev would speak and sing with the same
zeal and fervour that he displayed whilst addressing mammoth gatherings.
Even if the audience consisted of only four members of a family, to
him it was an opportunity to spread the Gospel of Divine Life, the glory
of the Divine Name, and the gist of all spiritual teachings. To him
it was as great an opportunity as that of addressing five millions.
To him the moment mattered more than the years to come. To the work
of the moment he gave his heart and soul without reserves. While in
Malaya, where for ten years he unceasingly and untiringly served the
people as a doctor, he took upon his shoulders the work of a number
of his colleagues. He expended every ounce of his energy. He could not
withhold anything because he was enthusiasm itself. Anyone else in his
position would have grown old at 38, when he renounced the world and
started a new life!
The life that awaited him in Rishikesh was in no way helpful to the
restoration of the energy spent in Malaya. The meagre fare of an anchorite,
food that he was not accustomed to, and the conditions of life that
prevailed, far from replenishing what was lost, could only have been
expected to drain off what energy was left in him and hasten the advent
of old age.
But it was not so. In 1930, after seven years of rigorous austerities,
when Gurudev addressed his first audiences in U.P. and Bihar, they found
in him a full-blown yogi, youthful, with ebullient vigour, his powerful
voice ringing with a soul force that had conquered old age and put weakness
to shame. What power Gurudev’s words had! They came from his heart,
from his soul.
Once after returning from a tour in 1930, Swamiji received a letter
from a parent of a student of a high school that he had addressed in
Sitapur. It said that after hearing Gurudev speak their son had run
away from home, leaving behind a note: “I am going to meet my real
Father, Swami Sivananda.” Similarly, Dr. Roy joined the ashram
as its medical officer soon after the All-India Tour in 1950, having
heard Gurudev’s lecture at Chidambaram. Such was the awakening
and transforming power of Gurudev’s words.
Gurudev ascribed this continuously bursting inner fountain of energy
to the regular practice of asanas, pranayama, meditation, and the repetition
or the Lord’s name, but particularly to pranayama. This endowed
Gurudev with a phenomenal memory and a marvellous capacity to do ashtavadhana
(doing eight things simultaneously). Pranayama purifies the nadis (the
subtle energy channels) and the nervous system, and strengthens the
mind. Gurudev’s powerful brain could give directions for work to
a hundred people at the same time. Every visitor to “Ananda Kutir”
(literally translated as the “Abode of Bliss” which was Gurudev’s
room, and thus the nucleus of the now world-renowned Sivananda Ashram)
knew that he was registered in Gurudev’s mind and that even after
a decade, he would still be recognised should they meet again. He could
remember a face for 30 or 40 years even if the face had changed. If
someone whom he had seen as a little girl went back after thirty years
he would remark: “You look like a little girl I saw...” and
she would say, “Yes, Swamiji, that was me.”
There are instances galore. During the All-India Tour, he met the then
Chief Minister of Mysore, Sri K. C. Reddy at Bangalore airport, and
conversed with him for a few minutes. Two years later Mr. Reddy came
to Rishikesh and Swamiji recognised him instantly, though Mr. Reddy
was dressed differently. Sadhu Murugadas visited the ashram in 1940
and sang beautiful bhajans (songs of praise of the Lord). He visited
again in 1948 and gave another wonderful programme. When he was about
to conclude Gurudev reminded him: “What about the beautiful prayer
with which you concluded last time–’asato ma sat gamaya’?”
Murugadasji was surprised at Gurudev’s exceptional memory.
There was something extraordinarily special about Gurudev; that attractiveness,
that glowing and sparkling vitality and effervescent energy. Swami Paramananda
once said: “If the Master just walked along any road, he would
gather a crowd around him. It is not necessary that there should be
any advance propaganda. Let him merely walk along a road in London,
he would attract a whole crowd there.” Once we went to Dehra Dun,
a town not far from the ashram. It was winter then and Swamiji had a
huge overcoat on, so that looking at him you wouldn’t say that
he was even a swami. As he was walking along the shopping centre, quite
a crowd gathered around him for no reason. They just wanted to walk
with him!
Why do we want all this health? Why do we even want the body to be
alive? Is health so important in itself? Don’t forget that Gurudev
was a medical doctor and as such it is inevitable that he should have
seen the futility of pampering to the body. He had no illusions concerning
human life, no illusions concerning vitality. He knew that the physical
energy supply is limited; that there comes a time when the body ages
and the energy level falls. He knew that.
Once Swami Sivananda was walking up a flight of steps to go to the
temple and about half way he sat down on a step. Just then a young boy
who was also living in the ashram came running, tumbling down the ‘steps.
Swamiji looked at him, full of admiration. “Haah, he is full of
energy. I also used to be like that once, but now for this body it is
not possible.” He knew that.
Only once have I heard him refer back to his life in Malaya with a
touch of regret. He said: “If I had known then that I would be
engaged later in this kind of activity which benefits not only one patient
or one neighbourhood, but everyone in the world, I would have conserved
a little more energy in my youth. I would have taken better care of
myself and would not have spent so much energy in Malaya.” He knew
that because the energy supply is limited, it has to be spent fruitfully,
intelligently, wisely. He knew that death is inevitable however long
you live. Therefore he was not fond of ‘health’ for its own
sake. He would not have loved to live in that body if it was not of
some service to others. And therefore he declared once: “I live
to serve. I live to serve all.” Every moment of that life, the
body was whipped into service–not just cajoled, but whipped into
service. It was looked after very well, and work was extracted from
it also very well.
CHAPTER TWO
Gurudev Sivananda was such a radiant person that just to look at him
was already an inspiration. I think the greatest service that he did
was to make himself so easily available, so accessible to everybody
at large. This was a unique factor. In the ashram, he was the most easily
accessible person. At least three times a day he was out in the open.
He took part in the morning “classes”, the worship in the
temple and from about ten a.m. he worked in the office. It was open,
anybody could walk in. Children would even run in and ask, “Swamiji,
what is the time now ?”–and he answered them. People who walked
along the road could feast their eyes on him, “Aah, there is Swami
Sivananda!” Just that was a remarkable service, Karma Yoga.
What is Karma Yoga? An American businessman had come to the ashram
in 1947 for a few days visit. It was the custom that visitors addressed
the evening satsang on their last night. The American visitor had wandered
around the ashram and observed us doing various things. He said, “Some
of you practise bhakti yoga, some of you practise hatha yoga, and so
on. We in the United States practise karma yoga. We are all working
very hard, working day and night, earning a lot of money.” Later
Swamiji told him, “This is not really karma yoga. Karma yoga is
different. Isavasyamidam sarvam–God alone pervades all. God alone
is Truth. He is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient. He who has this
vision, he alone is a karma yogi.” Karma yoga is not some form
of service which we pretend is unselfish, but karma yoga is the spontaneous
action, the non-volitional action, the non-egotistic action, the totally
unselfish action of an enlightened person, in whose eyes only God exists,
within and without.
Karma yoga is perhaps not what a student of yoga practises, but rather
how a perfected sage lives. It is not karma yoga if the action is done
with any motivation whatsoever. It is not only a matter of the action
being motivated by selfishness, egoism or vanity. True spontaneous action
is possible only when the mind has become totally unconditioned. As
long as even the feeling persists, “I do this”, the action
is still within the bounds of selfishness; there is some motive there,
however noble it may be.
We must remember however that the Master wanted all aspects of yoga
to go hand in hand every day of our life. For us, karma yoga is any
sort of service that involves the least selfishness. Karma yoga as a
spiritual discipline is what purifies the heart of selfishness.
It is prescribed as a preliminary purificatory practice before entering
the inner court of contemplation and Gurudev amply demonstrated this
during his life in Malaya and Swarg Ashram.
In order to understand the spirit of karma yoga, one has to live with
Someone who is an exemplar of this. Otherwise there is misunderstanding!
For instance, Swami Sivananda has said something very beautiful in
his ‘Song of a Karma Yogin’: “Scrutinise always your
inner motive”. We often pretend to ourselves, “I am scrutinising
my inner motives.” We do not ask ourselves, “But why am I
doing so?” for the answer might well be, “In order to prove
to myself that I am spiritually taller than the next man.” What
is the inner motive for scrutinising the inner motive? Are you even
a little bit closer to God for doing this? If you scrutinise your inner
motive, motivelessly, you will be. That is what we saw in Gurudev. But
for the example the words are lifeless.
But, can you see someone else do something and ask yourself, “Oh
God in that situation, would I have acted as he does?” Without
justifying your defects or idolising the ideal? (Don’t make a mistake–I
have the greatest devotion to the Master. I worship him in every way.
In the ashram every other day someone performed padapuja (worship) when
we would wash his feet and drink the water. All that is good and important.
But you must not merely idolise him). There is the ideal–you
have seen it, you have observed it, watched it. Perhaps it is far, far
above you. It is not for you to look at as we look at a cloud, but to
be imbibed just as the fruit of the cloud (the rainwater) is. We must
enter into this perfection. Otherwise there was no need for Swami Sivananda
to have lived among us.
It was not when Dr. Kuppuswamy became a renunciate that this spirit
of karma yoga was born in him. Even as a child it was there in him.
Gurudev’s elder brother’s wife who looked after him after
his mother had died told me, “He was a normal boy, there was nothing
extraordinary about him. He was mischievous. He was energetic, very
energetic and he could also bully and fight. But one thing–he loved
to share whatever he had with others.” In later life that became
more or less a mantra with him. “Share whatever you have with others.”
(Another characteristic that this lady mentioned was that he liked good
food and it had to be prepared exactly right; if it was a little less
than perfect, he would not have it. That was also there throughout his
life). He could never eat anything hiding himself behind the cupboard.
He always had to call a few friends and have a party. This party spirit
was always there. He could never do anything alone, enjoy anything alone,
which extended to cover even the bliss of self-realisation. He was a
compulsive giver. He had it in his blood.
Free distribution of literature was born with the medical journal ‘Ambrosia’
which he published as a young doctor. In Malaya Gurudev shared his knowledge
of medicine, especially preventive methods. Also he would give away
food, money and clothing. Patients were not treated as patients but
as friends. The doctor would bring them into his house if necessary,
make provision for their convalescence so that they could receive a
proper diet; give them train fares home, help them to find suitable
jobs, and follow up their welfare personally, socially, etc. No sacrifice
was too great for him in the service of ailing persons. Gurudev concerned
himself more with the poor than with the rich–that the poor could
not pay did not matter to him.
Gurudev was charity itself. Indiscriminate and unrestrained charity.
Those who attended the sraddhas in his house (sraddha is an annual ceremony
in memory of one’s parents) used to receive an offering of ten
dollars in addition to valuable presents in clothes, silver vessels,
etc. In most other homes they might get two dollars. A monk who once
visited the Master’s house in Johore-Bahru was warmly welcomed
and treated like a prince. When he left Gurudev gave him a hearty send
off and a first class train ticket to his destination.
That Gurudev lived a simple life goes without saying. A simple life
is one of the prerequisites for charity and any self-sacrificing activity.
If you love luxury, then neither of these is possible. Gurudev gave
and gave and gave, and he also received–obviously, you can only
give out of the cash box what it contains, not more than that. He emphasised
what he described as ‘spontaneous, overwhelming generosity......’
I can still hear these words ringing in my ears. He gave and he received
and in his case on both occasions he was thankful to the other person.
If you gave him something, he would be delighted and when he gave you
something, once again, he was delighted and full of gratitude–to
you for having received and for having given him the opportunity to
serve you. I have heard it from his lips a million times–"When
there is a poor or a sick man at your door whom you have the opportunity
to attend to, know that it is God himself, who has come in this form
to give you an opportunity to serve. Thank the Lord for having come
here?"
When Mr. Narasimha Iyer (Mr. Iyer rejoined the Master who accepted
him as an ordained disciple. Much of the material concerning the Master’s
life in Malaya was gathered from him.) had joined the doctor as his
cook, they had agreed upon a certain salary, say 30-40 dollars, plus
food, clothes and household expenses. On the first day of the following
month, Gurudev ran into the kitchen with a tray in his hands. On it
were fruits, flowers, new clothes and about 50 dollars. In Indian houses,
this is how they welcome and honour a guest, a holy man or a brahmin–as
God. The cook was expecting his wage, and looked questioningly at the
doctor; Gurudev prostrated in front of him saying, “This is your
sambhavana, Iyer......is it adequate?” The word ‘sambhavana’
has a holy connotation. It implies “an offering made with devotion
and reverence.” Gurudev would never use words like ‘pay’,
‘salary’ or ‘wages’. He looked upon his servants
as manifestations of God. This was his attitude throughout his life.
Whatever he gave, including his service, was always a humble offering
unto God.
Whatever Gurudev had was available to anyone who was in need. When
a beggar comes and stands in front of someone’s house it is usual
(to our disgrace) to dispose of “garbage”. You have a bunch
of bananas and have eaten the best ones. What is left is overripe and
rotten. If a beggar comes to your door, he gets them! You could never
persuade Gurudev to do that. I saw it at least once: He was about to
eat something and found that it had become a bit stale and someone suggested,
“Keep it, Swamiji, we can give it to the cow or the monkeys.”
He replied, “No. Throw it away. What is not fit for my consumption,
is not fit for anybody’s consumption.”
Here is a typical oft-recurring incident: A beggar comes to the door
of the doctor (Gurudev) in Malaya. What does he expect? A few odd coins,
or some scraps? There is just enough food for a meal, and the doctor
is about to sit and eat when the beggar calls at the door. The cook
says: “I’ll go and give him something,” but the doctor
fetches him inside and the astonished beggar is made to sit down in
the kitchen and is served with food first. There is not enough food
to feed three people! Together the doctor and his cook share what remains
of the meal. The doctor tells the cook: “Come, you have satisfied
a hungry, man, now we can share whatever remains. His satisfaction will
satisfy our hunger too.” That is the spirit of karma yoga.
Above all, it was feeding people that gave him the greatest delight.
He was happiest when he could persuade people to eat a little more,
and therefore one of his own Twenty Spiritual Instructions was ignored
by him as soon as you entered the ashram. “Eat a little, drink
a little....”, he used to sing, but you could only do so when you
got back home! When he gave prasad–or some fruits or sweets–he
would scoop out with his huge hands and give you. And you had to eat
it immediately, right in front of him. As he watched you, it gave him
endless delight. He was thrilled, thrilled to see about a hundred or
two hundred people sit down and eat to their heart’s content. I
don’t think that he ever felt that this was a contradiction to
his teaching. In the beginning he used to be rather strict with regard
to some observances, like fasting on Ekadasi (eleventh day of the lunar
fortnight), but later even these rules were relaxed. People brought
fruits and sweets into his office and in no time the whole lot was distributed
to those around him.
Once this turned into a rather tricky situation. A very good devotee,
a South Indian lady from Bombay, had come to the ashram and had brought
a very special sweet preparation that she knew Gurudev was fond of.
She was an expert in preparing this and had obviously gone to much trouble.
She knew of the Master’s habit of distributing to others and had
taken that into account, but she was almost in tears when she saw Gurudev
handing the plate around to everyone and not taking any for himself.
Her heart was sinking. Gurudev turned to tell the distributor, “You
must also give a portion to her,” when suddenly he noticed her
expression. He “ordered” the Swami distributing it, “Stop
it, stop it...... Oh Swami, wait, bring it here, the rest is for me,
I’m going to eat it. Don’t give it away.” He saw the
lady’s face begin to blossom, her cheeks become rosy. “Bring
it here. I’m going to eat it.” He put one bit in his mouth
and somehow again the plate went round. The joy that he had when he
shared, and especially food, fruit, or books, was indescribable.
On another occasion–this was even worse. It was in 1948 or ‘49
when the ashram was very poor and fruit was not only rare but expensive.
If anyone entered his kutir they had to receive something. I had taken
him some work and Gurudev asked his cook if there were any oranges.
The cook had bought some oranges exclusively for Gurudev. He had tremendous
devotion to his Guru and he wasn’t going to move. In the meantime
Gurudev walked into the kitchen. He could see where the fruits were.
So he picked one up and gave it to me. Before long he had given some
to the monkeys and fish as well, and one by one all the oranges were
finished. Such was his compulsive giving nature. If oranges were rare
then even the fish and the monkeys should also enjoy their share!
There were only about ten or twelve people in the ashram in 1944-45
and ordinarily all of us used to come to the kitchen and eat. What became
the dining hall later was used more as an office in those days. Sometimes
Gurudev would come and sit on one of those cement benches and talk to
us, and say: “You think it’s a small place now, but one day
you’ll see. From here to Lakshman Jhula people will sit and eat.”
It happened. We didn’t actually serve people all along the road,
but if you lined up all those that ate in the ashram in 1958-59, it
would have been at least one mile–easily four to five hundred people.
That vision he had.
Once he had typhoid and he couldn’t even stand. He was very weak
and dizzy. To go to the bathroom, he literally hung on two people’s
shoulders. From the bathroom one day he was looking out of the window
at the Ganges. He asked, “Who is that sitting there?” One
of us answered. “Oh it is very hot there,” Gurudev replied.
“Go and tell her that she should not sit there. How long has she
been sitting there? Perhaps she hasn’t had any lunch.” He
told his cook, “Go and ask her if she has eaten, if not, ask her
to come here and take something.”
That was his sole wish! You must be fed nicely, you mustn’t suffer,
you mustn’t go without anything. I have never seen anybody else
behave like that. First food for your body and then food for your soul.
This giving was totally indiscriminate. It had to be done. Both food
and books were distributed completely indiscriminately. Charity–giving,
giving, giving, all the time–had to go on; and in that there was
a vision which we can possibly not even contemplate. If we try to understand
it intellectually it is reduced to a set of words.
Once a wandering beggar come to the ashram. Swamiji enquired how he
had travelled since he did not look at all tired. The beggar replied
that he had travelled first class on the train, since those coaches
were emptier, and in that way he was not inconveniencing the overcrowded
third class passengers. This beggar also happened to have a very good
voice and a wonderful innate musical talent. Gurudev asked him if he
could sing. “Swamiji, I guess every beggar knows how to sing a
little bit.” “Wonderful. Today we’ll have your concert
during the satsang.” All the ashramites and visitors gathered in
the Bhajan Hall. For once this poor beggar was really in trouble. You
have never seen a more frightened face! He didn’t know what a satsang
was; he had never given a concert in his life. He was put up on a platform,
and when he saw a swami coming with a garland, he froze. He didn’t
know what to do–and he didn’t know how to run away either!
On top of all this Gurudev gave him a nice title, “Sangita Ratna”,
which means, a music expert. It is impossible for either him or anyone
else who witnessed this whole scene never to forget it.
Once in a while, overwhelm the other man with your generosity; when
he expects just two cents, give him a few dollars and see what happens.
See that glow in the other person’s face, feel the delight in his
heart. Perhaps that is the ‘light of God.’
Why don’t we practise such overwhelming generosity? There seem
to be two inhibiting factors. The first is “Well you know, if I
do this once, he will expect me to do it again and again and I’ll
become bankrupt in ten days.” Quite true. Swami Sivananda also
didn’t do it every day–obviously–for then he would not
have been able to build even a small cottage, let alone an ashram. But,
once in a while do yourself a treat, two dollars is nothing to you–but
when it is given to a poor man, to this beggar, all at once, when all
he expects is a few cents, it creates a tremendous reaction. “Hah!”
He looks at you. “My God, you have really given this to me?”
Once in a while give yourself a blissful, beautiful feeling, a heavenly
pleasure.
The second inhibiting factor is; “How do I know that he deserves
it?” (If God started asking that question we wouldn’t even
be alive. If God asked himself: “How do I know these people deserve
all that fresh air?”, what would be the answer?). Such a question
arises only when we contemplate some charity! What about the new dress
that you bought yesterday?
Gurudev had no use at all for what is called ‘discriminating charity.’
During the Kumbha Mela (a festival) in 1950 there was a continuous stream
of pilgrims passing along the road that went through the ashram. We
had set up a sort of ad-hoc office on the roadside and Gurudev used
to sit there for an hour or two giving darshan to the pilgrims. A small
band of young men with a few musical instruments were singing. Gurudev
heard it. “Call them.” Swami Paramananda called the whole
band. The Master was delighted. “Come on, sit down here and sing
for an hour or so.” They did, and sang beautifully. Gurudev took
out some money, put it on a plate with some fruits and flowers and gave
it to the leader of the band. Someone noticed this, and remarked, “They
are hawkers, Swamiji. They are selling cigarettes. They are not devotees
singing the names of God. The ‘Hare Rama, Hare Krishna’ is
probably only to attract the crowd”. I still remember the mischievous
look on Gurudev’s face, “Is that so? Then add some more money.
Give them another ten rupees. They were singing Mahamantra, singing
God’s names very beautifully. Charity is charity. You must give.
What he does with it is not our business. That is God’s work.”
Spontaneous, overwhelming, unquestioning generosity. It had no motives
at all. Where you find some need, give. And I have never heard him refer
back to it. The feeling one got watching the Master do this was–do
charity in exactly the same manner in which you will drop your body,
when you die.
You can well imagine that it was a headache to the secretary, and the
treasurer, and so on, of an organisation, i.e. the ashram, to have a
person like Swami Sivananda as the head. He just went on giving, giving,
giving–he did not seem to have any notion where the money came
from or where it went. But, I think he knew, though others thought he
did not. He was aware all the time that the source is also the goal.
“It comes from Him and returns to Him: We are merely channels.
We think we are running this institution, this ashram, but we are only
trustees.”
At least once a year the ashram experienced a financial crisis. Gurudev
would seriously consider the position and say; “We will be very
careful. We won’t admit any new aspirants into the ashram.”
Usually this only lasted a few days. Soon a poor man would walk in without
even a change of clothes asking to stay at the ashram, Swamiji would
say: “Yes, yes......... better let him stay. Where else will he
go? Do not worry about expenses. Every man brings his own ration with
him. Before God sends him here, God has already delivered to the kitchen
the food supply that he will need.”
These were not just words; if you looked into his face, into his eyes,
you knew he was speaking the truth. In him there was no doubt at all,
there was no questioning. In him this truth lived. He knew that what
you and I call God’s will, alone prevailed. If we are going to
be bankrupt, we will be bankrupt in any case. There is nothing to worry
about! And the secretary submits “Alright, Swamiji.” And then
the flood-gates are open again–otherwise the next financial crisis
wouldn’t come so soon.
Another time we had a classical tragedy. A young man joined the ashram.
He was a ceaseless and untiring worker, brilliant in every way. He had
captured the heart of the Master. Gurudev loved him and admired him,
and took him into his confidence. He had made him nearly the all-in-all.
He was the post-master, he was the treasurer, he was almost the secretary
too, unofficially. He was the cashier and on top of all this he was
also doing some literary work for Gurudev. He was such a dynamic personality,
and it was only half an hour after he had left the ashram one day that
it was discovered that he had embezzled, heaven only knows how much!
He was the cashier and the post-master, so nobody could really estimate
to what extent the ashram had been robbed. All we knew was this–there
was not a single cent in the entire ashram, which was heavily in debt
to local shopkeepers.
So for once we started with a minus balance, and the news spread to
Rishikesh. Once again, the grocers very politely told the secretary,
“For some time it is better to pay cash for whatever you take,”
because the ashram owed a lot to them already. That was the worst calamity
I have ever seen in the ashram’s life. And what did the Master
do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was enjoying the whole thing as
a big joke: “How was it possible for him to cheat us like this?
He was such a good man! He must be a genius.” Two things he went
on repeating. “He must have been a genius to do this.” And,
“But he did a lot of work.” He added, “We must have owed
him some money–-but he could have asked me, I’d have given
him.” What is that vision, that realisation, established in which
one can say this? That is the vision of God.
One more example of this. In 1946 a businessman came to the ashram
from South India. He knew that the Master was very fond of dissemination
of spiritual knowledge and that the shelves were full of books which
had been printed and published by the ashram. So, he said to Swamiji,
“I can distribute and market all your books in South India. He
took a large consignment. Six months later the secretary wrote to the
address given by the businessman–the letter was returned, ”No
such address!" The secretary was amazed. Gurudev said, “Ohji,
if you think that you are the self of the man who cheated you, you won’t
be disappointed.” If God is one, omnipresent, what is stealing?
Stealing is only transferring the object from the right hand to the
left hand. You think that you are Swami So-and-so, and that you
have an ashram, and that those books belong to the ashram, and someone
else took them, and made a profit, and so on. This makes you
angry. “If you see your own self in that other person, not only
would you not feel sorry, but you may even feel happy.” Nothing
more was said about the whole affair.
“Be equanimous; balanced, even-minded in success and failure,
gain and loss.” It is not grinning and bearing it–not at all.
“He who cheats me, and that which I call ‘me’,
are but the two hands of the omnipresent being, who alone exists!”
But sometimes, to the discomfiture of the authorities of the ashram,
Gurudev could make a big joke of this whole thing. One night the ashram
temple was broken into, although a number of people were sleeping on
the covered verandah which went around the four sides of the temple.
The silver pot and other silver vessels were missing. The priest who
had discovered the loss, reported the theft to the Master. But instead
of getting serious, the Master was curious. “People were sleeping
right there at the time when the theft was taking place?” Then
he burst out laughing. “He must be a very clever thief. If he is
found, I’ll award him a title ‘Chora Shikhamani’ (which
means a super-expert in stealing).”
That was all. Gurudev made it look as if there was no theft. He who
needed them took them away. He used a very beautiful expression. He
used to call it ‘Gupta Daan’–secret charity, in which
the receiver saved you from even the trouble of giving it! He needed
it–he took it.
Once we decided that instead of Swami Sivananda, he should have been
called Swami Givananda–he who rejoices in giving. He knew that
the supply came from the source, and to the source it returned. Material
considerations of accounting did not bother him at all. He proved in
his own life that in such generosity, there was no bankruptcy. He used
to say very often, “Giving has never made a person poor; charity
has never made a person poor.” In 1924, the Master arrived in Rishikesh,
with only the clothes that he had on his body. In 1973, hardly fifty
years later, the ashram that he had built was worth a few million rupees,
and yet he went on giving, giving, giving. He himself used to say, “Such
an attitude puts you in direct communion with the inexhaustible source
of all prosperity.”
Gurudev’s service was the sun before which all the mists of distinctions
of colour and creed, caste and sex, vanished. As a doctor in Malaya,
he served all nationalities, all castes, everyone, especially the poor.
Similarly in Swarg Ashram, where he lived as a mendicant, his service
especially of the sick was his first concern. Later, the doors of the
Sivananda Ashram were ever open (and still are) to people of all castes,
creeds, and nationalities–South Indian Brahmins, non-Brahmins,
Christians, Europeans, Americans, Jews, Muslims, Parsees, and Buddhists
were all received by Gurudev with equal respect and were entertained
with uniform love and hospitality.
Swami Sivananda never bothered about what your religious faith or belief
was; he never interfered with all that. He never suggested that one
religion was valid, and another was false, or that one was superior
to another. Once the Master was scheduled to meet a multi-millionaire,
who was a fanatical Hindu. All he wanted to hear was these few words.
“The Sanatana Dharma (Hinduism) is alone the truth.” While
the Master was being escorted to this meeting the secretary of this
millionaire, dropped a few hints, that the wealthy man could be of great
help in Gurudev’s mission. The Master listened to him. Gurudev
was gloriously received by this rich man, and as predicted, he asked
the standard question, “What do you think, Swamiji, of Islam, is
it also a religion?” “Oh yes. Yes yes. Yes yes.” “The
Qu’ran is also the word of God?” asked the millionaire. “Yes
yes, yes yes, yes,” replied Gurudev. Gurudev returned with a plate
of fruits, most of which he distributed there itself! Swami Sivananda
was not for sale! Your religion is what appeals to you. Ultimately,
religion is an adventure between you and God. Gurudev was not interested
in imposing his doctrines, his belief, his faith, even his realisation
on others.
Where service was concerned, even the distinction of sex disappeared.
Once during his early days in Rishikesh, a young South Indian lady who
was staying at the Kalikamliwala rest house fell ill. The manager there
advised her to consult Gurudev, which she did. Swamiji gave her some
medicine, but since the lady was modest and shy, he gave up the idea
of massaging the patient’s feet, although he considered this more
beneficial than medicine. On returning to his kutir he reflected on
the matter and decided that he should not have neglected what was necessary
for her welfare. “After all the same Atman (self) that dwells in
me dwells in her too. I should not have shrunk back from this service.”
Early the next morning Gurudev along with his disciple called on the
lady again and having given her the medicine, explained to her that
he saw only the Divine Mother of the Universe in her to allow him, her
child, to massage her feet. She made a speedy recovery.
Gurudev would never tire of warning the monks against moving too closely
with members of the opposite sex, and he sternly admonished them not
to spend the night in a room adjacent to which a lady is sleeping alone–this
is the code of morals. But there is a superior code, the code of service.
Once, while at Lucknow, Gurudev discovered that the old Maharani (his
hostess) was seriously ailing with acute rhinitis and he then slept
in the corner of her room, ready at hand should she need someone to
attend to her. Even her own family would not serve her with such solicitude.
When the need arose, Gurudev was ready to do any kind of service.
In Gurudev, the fear of public criticism was conspicuous by its absence.
We should not be arrogant and violate the laws of society, but yet we
should dare to do what we know is right. “If you are convinced
that you ought to wear an overcoat in order to carry on your spiritual
practices undisturbed and to serve humanity best, and if the thought
enters your mind that people may criticise you, at once put on the overcoat!
This is the way to overcome the fear of public criticism. People may
criticise you, but soon they will understand you.”
The question he asked himself constantly was, “What is the appropriate,
the right thing to do in these circumstances?” and never, “What
will people think?” The old Maharani of Singhai frequently used
to visit Rishikesh. If she walked along the road in the hot sun, Gurudev
clad in the fiery robes of a sannyasin, would hold an umbrella above
her head; and his fellow monks would, in their pride of sannyasa, laugh
at this bold renunciate serving the mother instead of treating her as
a mere householder and asking her to bow at his feet.
Once Swami Sivananda went with the Maharani on a pilgrimage to Ganga
Sagar (the holy confluence of the Ganga and the Bay of Bengal). En route
the pilgrims had to wade through the sea for a few yards and the old
lady could not do that. Gurudev at once lent her his broad and muscular
shoulders. The Maharani was reluctant, but without the least hesitation,
Gurudev picked her up and carried her to the boat. On another occasion,
at the Maharani’s palace in Lucknow, a lady mendicant became infuriated
when the Maharani declined to satisfy her inordinate demands for money
to perform some kind of worship. In the frenzy of anger this mendicant
lost all control and fell down unconscious. Gurudev carried her on his
shoulders to the nearby hospital and had her attended to. The Maharani
had a liking for soda, which she invariably took early in the morning.
Her servants, often lax in their duties, might neglect to give it to
her at the appointed hour; but the honoured guest, Gurudev, whom the
Maharani revered as her preceptor would anticipate his disciple’s
needs and would, without her knowledge, make sure that the soda was
ready waiting for her, ready at hand.
However, when the Maharani planned to make Gurudev stay permanently
in the palace as the Royal Preceptor, he quietly slipped away from there
and undergoing great sufferings and hardship en route, walked back to
Rishikesh. He walked, without informing anyone at the palace, without
even taking a blanket when it was midwinter; he suffered cold and hunger
on the way but he was determined to rescue himself from even the least
touch of worldliness.
In the life of this single, mighty individual, selfless service flowed
along many different channels. He used especially to exalt the service
of the sick and the poor. He had seen disease and its consequent suffering
at very close quarters from his very youth and he intensely felt the
pain that afflicted another man. An old friend of Gurudev from Malaya
visited the ashram and told us, “We could not recognise Swamiji’s
greatness in those days. We had more or less concluded that he was full
of unusual eccentricities.” It was the spirit in which he served,
which was unique in Gurudev Sivananda. He was dynamically, busy, active
all day–not in order to gain anything, nor to lose anything, not
out of fear, without any expectation of.........
There was no ‘because’ in his case at all. So, why did he
do it? How does a person who has no ambitions, no desires, no cravings,
no hopes, no expectations, function at all? We are trapped in this idea
that without some motivation, man would be idle. Swami Sivananda questioned,
“Why should we be idle? When you do something you ask ‘Why
should I do that?’, but when you don’t do it, you don’t
ask yourself, ‘Why do I not do that?” When the self is seen
to be non-existent, you are neither interested in doing anything nor
interested in refraining from doing anything, in being lazy, idle. Idleness
is useless. Idleness is just another form of vanity or egoism. When
the self is seen to be non-existent, the energy and the consciousness
in you (which we call God) function. This is where the expression ‘God’s
will’ or ‘God’s grace’ is appropriate. In the life
of Swami Sivananda, that is exactly what we saw.
There is no danger in true selfless service; rather it is the Divine
Realm where the faithful have absolute immunity. During the early days
of Gurudev’s life at Swarg Ashram he earned a reputation for daring
to venture into regions which anyone who valued his life would avoid
from a great distance. Cholera and typhoid cases were earmarked for
him as were most contagious and infectious diseases. When Swami Anantanandaji
was suffering from cholera of a most virulent type, and people feared
to approach his hut, Gurudev was in constant attendance at the Swami’s
bedside. Gurudev had absolutely no revulsion or dislike to handle the
offensive discharges of patients. He would with his own hands clean
the bedpan and wash the excreta from the patient’s body. When Swami
Anantananda was very ill, Gurudev readily and without the least hesitation
inserted his own fingers into the rectum of the Swami and removed the
faecal matter, without revulsion, without fear. This was an assurance
which was not born even of medical knowledge–"I can wash myself
in antiseptic solution." I have never seen him wash his hands in
antiseptic solution. At best he used just pure water. Similarly, when
Sri Veeraraghavachari’s disciple was suffering from cholera, it
was again Gurudev who volunteered to attend him. People were wonderstruck
at Gurudev’s service; and many were like Sri Kalyanandaji who,
when he fell sick, would send for Gurudev alone–no-one else would
do. “Whatever you do with your miraculous healing hand will cure
me”, he would say.
Much later in 1948-49, Gurudev lived in a basement apartment and upstairs
was a family man stricken with the most virulent smallpox. The man’s
skin was not visible at all. Only the eyeballs were sticking out and
the rest of the body was covered with smallpox. And the Master was still
there downstairs. Nobody could persuade him to leave that place and
go somewhere else in the ashram. One could see from his face that there
was no anxiety at all. In the same way, when he himself had typhoid,
it did not bother him.
On the psychological level too, as we have seen, he was utterly fearless–fearless
first of all of public criticism. It is very important to distinguish
this fearlessness from callousness or defiance. There was no defiance
in him. I have seen this; if he wanted to do something and one of his
own disciples said, “No Swamiji, it should not be done like this,
it should be done that way”, he would very meekly and simply say,
“Yes, alright, let us do it that way.” However when it came
to what the whole of him wanted to do, he did not bother at all who
said what. In the early years of this century, till he changed the fashion,
it was unthinkable for a swami wearing the flaming orange robes to sing
and dance, even if it was the Mahamantra–Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama
Rama, Hare Hare; Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare.
A Swami was not even allowed to bow down to others. It was Swami Sivananda
who started bowing down to all. He was criticised! H.H. Sri Swami Tapovanji
vividly recalled how Gurudev used to carry three little cloth bags wherever
he went. One contained leaflets, pamphlets and notebook; one had sweets
and biscuits or some fruits, and the third had some common drugs like
aspirin, dressings etc. On the roadside he would stop at a hundred places
making enquiries about anchorites and villagers and he would distribute
the pamphlets and give medicines to anyone who needed them. The sweets
he gave to children. While he was at Swarg Ashram Gurudev lived only
on alms (from the almshouse) which consisted of soup and dry bread (rotti).
After he had left his home in South India, someone discovered that an
insurance policy of his had matured and was valued at about five thousand
rupees. If he had been rigid he would have refused the money, but instead
he used it to buy medicines, fruit and curd for the sick and to serve
the sadhus. He established the Satyasevashram Dispensary where all patients,
both anchorites and laymen, received medicines, food and money if they
needed them and also sincere gratitude and Sashtang Namaskar (complete
prostration) much to their embarrassment. The patients were treated
as living divinity.
Gurudev was criticised for all this by the swamis and holy men who
used to say about him, “Oh, he is a house-holder swami though he
wears the orange robe, because he handles money and he publishes all
this literature. A swami should walk absolutely bare-handed. He shouldn’t
even carry his own water pot–a disciple should do it.” They
who had adopted this as their rule, naturally criticised him but he
was not moved nor did he react. Only weak men react. Later I myself
heard this from one of the critics. He was a wonderful man and he said,
“We all used to criticise your guru and now we have all joined
him. He was right and we were wrong.”
It is not that the Master ever wanted to prove that he was right. It
was so natural–it had to happen. He was so totally and absolutely
fearless. Fearless because the false identification that ‘I am
the body’ had gone. The body is the body and the ‘I’
does not exist. What functions is the Chit Shakti or the power of God.
This is karma yoga. Only such a one could afford not to hate anyone,
not to harbour a trace of ill-will. It was only pure love and humility
embodied in this gigantic figure that could openly face an assailant
and at the same time bow down and fondly look after a little child.
When Gurudev moved over to the present ashram locality, he again established
a dispensary and all the ashram inmates were put through a rigorous
training in service of the sick. Gurudev would “aggressively”
catch hold of pilgrims returning from pilgrimages in the Himalayas and
rub their bruised legs with turpentine liniment; he would ask another
disciple to rub the other leg, thus giving his disciples practical training
in selfless service. It is this Sat-Sankalpa (holy wish) that has taken
the shape of the Sivananda Eye Hospital and the gigantic Sivananda General
Hospital with all its modern equipment. When Gurudev had lumbago in
1953, we took him to a nearby military hospital for dio-thermy treatment
for his back. He said, “What about buying a dio-thermy machine?
Then all the poor people in the area can use it free.” That was
his temperament.
The three greatest hallmarks of Gurudev’s selfless service were
compassion, tolerance, and a resolute determination not to see evil.
His compassion did not demand any justification for giving away food
and money to old and destitute people who walked into the ashram without
the least idea of leading a life of renunciation.
They approached him seeking only to be fed, clothed, and provided with
shelter. “Where will he go? We will have to look after him.”
This expression very often amazed the ashram authorities and visitors
too. Gurudev took over responsibility for maintaining a destitute who
called at his door with the simple logical reason that the destitute
person had been prompted by the Lord within him, to seek refuge at Gurudev’s
feet. How was the ashram to maintain those people? The question was
answered by Gurudev with equal ease, “The Lord who sends them here
will provide for their maintenance also. At present the State is not
looking after these aged people, so it is my duty to do so, as best
as I can.”
Among the destitutes were widows, whose husbands’ untimely death
had left them helpless; women who had been driven out of their homes
by the ill-treatment of husbands or parents-in-law, and orphans and
old people. To all of them doors of the Sivananda Ashram were ever open.
To them all, Gurudev was mother and father. He never questioned them
about their past, nor about their future plans; they were in need, and
first that need was satisfied. Invariably, after a month or two a ‘miracle’
would happen. They would rise in the estimation of their kith and kin,
and the wound would be healed. There was often a happy reunion of broken
families. Once a destitute person was lying outside Rama Ashram. No
one even cared to look at him, but as usual, as soon as it came to Gurudev’s
notice, he had the man brought into the ashram and made everyone of
the disciples attend to the man. Often Gurudev stepped in at the most
crucial psychological moment for a person and saved that person’s
life. Many, who in utter despair, stood on the brink of life and death,
and preferring death to a miserable existence here, were directed by
the supreme mercy of the Lord, to the divine compassionate embrace of
Gurudev’s love. A miraculous transformation would take place in
their lives, gloom and despair yielding to peace and hope.
This sort of service was rendered by Gurudev even in Malaya. Narasimha
Iyer told us how young men, completely broken and hopeless had stumbled
into the doctor’s house. They wished to end their life and their
misery, and the doctor always showed them how to end the misery, and
gain a new lease on life. He would look after them as he would his own
brothers, pursuing their life’s careers until such time as they
could take their place honourably in society.
Throughout his life this service continued, and the only reason given
for admitting such persons into the ashram was, “God has sent them
to us in order that we may serve them.” People who were suffering
severe shocks, whether due to the loss of beloved ones, or set-backs
in their official and social careers came to Gurudev for protection.
They found that they were welcomed. Gurudev’s Abhaya-Hasta (the
hand that guarantees fearlessness) granted them freedom from all kinds
of tensions and anxieties allowing the sun of hope and joy to dawn in
their lives. Such indiscriminate protection is granted only by the Lord.
It was this attitude that made Gurudev assert that there was no one
in the world who did not deserve his service, no one in the world who
did not deserve charity. It is this feeling that was behind his indiscriminate
service and charity–and that is the key to yoga.
Are there not in the world, individuals and institutions that render
one or more, or even all the types of services described? Perhaps there
are. So, what is it that distinguished Gurudev in this respect? What
is it that a mere social worker often misses, which if it had not been
overlooked would have raised him to the level of Godhead? It is this
inner bhava (attitude) which later blossoms forth as anubhava (experience).
If while being engaged in service, one reminds oneself that all hands
and feet are HIS, then the service becomes a sacred duty. The rendering
of the service is itself the greatest reward, and no result is even
anticipated.
That then is the secret of Gurudev’s untiring training of aspirants,
even if a number of them proved false and unworthy, and of serving them
even if they had behaved badly towards him. Had you offered him an opportunity
to serve you, he would have done so without a second thought. What you
might do in return to him, was not his concern. The service has already
fulfilled itself. This attitude was the secret of Gurudev’s perfect
detachment.
Gurudev’s tolerance had no limit. If some Swami X had once done
some service to the ashram and then began to lead a life of comfort
without doing any work, Gurudev wouldn’t ask him to work again
or to leave the ashram. On such an occasion, he said: “For the
work that he has done, I am bound to look after him for five or six
lives to come.” Gurudev himself was busy twenty-four hours of the
day, every day of the year–no holidays, no Sundays, nothing. Even
when he was sick he was active; active in the service of humanity, yet
he would never find fault with another for not following his example.
Gurudev could see no evil at all anywhere, and there was nothing that
he could not forgive. His power in this capacity was also tested to
the very limit of human endurance. This happened on the night of the
8th January, 1950. We did not have electricity in the Bhajan Hall in
those days. On the altar there stood pictures of Rama and Krishna and
just a wick lamp. For the readings we used a hurricane lantern and as
soon as the reading part of the satsang was over, it was put away. So
it was quite dark in the satsang. The Master always sat immediately
next to the door, the entrance.
Once someone asked him, “Why do you sit there, why not sit somewhere
a bit less draughty?” and he replied, “You know, I have loose
bowels and I’m diabetic, and sometimes I may have to get up and
go to the bathroom, I don’t want to disturb the whole satsang.
So I sit here. Also I might come late. I don’t want to cause any
disturbance.” Never once did he actually leave the satsang. He
was never late either; usually he was the first there.
On this particular day the satsang had started, the readings were over
and the light was put away. It was winter and the Master used to wrap
a shawl around his head but usually he would remove it immediately on
entering the hall. For an unknown reason he did not do so that night.
A young man, disgruntled and probably mentally deranged, walked into
the satsang with an axe in his hand. He knew where Swami Sivananda usually
sat and he aimed three blows at Gurudev’s head. The first blow
that came down fell on the turban. Nothing happened. There was only
the sound of something hitting something. So, hurriedly the assailant
raised the axe again and in doing so he hit one of the pictures hanging
on the wall above Gurudev. More noise was created, by which time this
man had become thoroughly nervous and even though he aimed another blow,
he somehow hit the open door, and only slightly grazed Swami Sivananda’s
arm. People got up and caught hold of the man, thus discovering the
whole horrible truth. All that Gurudev was interested in at this stage
was that satsang should be continued and brought to its usual end with
all the concluding prayers and so on. Some of us were working down in
the office when someone rushed in and told us. Immediately we ran up,
and then I heard the whole congregation chanting “sarvesam svasti
bhavatu, sarvesam santir bhavatu...” and I said to my companion,
“Swamiji must be alright,” because only he could have the
nerve, the calmness and the presence of mind to continue the satsang
and treat the whole incident as if nothing had happened. Gurudev was
sitting there calmly repeating all the mantras!
Later we discovered that this was Gurudev’s second miraculous
escape of the day. This man, whom Gurudev maintained in the ashram out
of purest compassion, without asking him for even a scrap of his time
and energy in service of the institution, had calculated another attack.
He had been waiting for Gurudev at the turn of the road, at the time
when Gurudev usually walked up for the morning meditation. The Master
always walked alone. But that morning was the one morning that he missed
the meditation and he was unhappy about it. When he came to the office
later he said, “Today I slept so heavily...... I don’t know
what happened–I just overslept.” Only later we discovered
that if he had come, probably he would have lost his life, as this man
had been waiting. Having missed that chance he came to the hall in another
attempt.
After the incident, this man had been taken to a room near the present
printing press. Gurudev went there and stood before the assailant, folded
his palms and said, “Are you angry with me? Are you satisfied?
Do you want to give me some more blows?” It was a beautiful scene.
What love! The next morning the police inspector said, “We are
going to charge him.” Swamiji replied, “No. There is no charge.
He has done nothing; only my karma has been worked out. Why should he
be punished for that?” The police wanted to take proper action.
So Swamiji eventually agreed that the man be sent back to his home town
in South India. The morning of his departure Swamiji himself went down
to the police station with a plate on which he had put a flower garland,
fruits, clothing, books and money for the train fare and pocket expenses.
He garlanded this man, fed him, and worshipped him, falling at the assailant’s
feet in prostration. None but Gurudev could have done this. Then he
said, “God Himself came in that form for His own reasons. God comes
to you not only as your benefactor, as a beggar, as a sick person, but
God comes to you even as your murderer. Even that person is none but
God.” He still continued to walk to the bhajan hall in the dark.
He still took his regular evening walk all alone. This is called faith.
It is easy to see God in one who has murdered your enemy, but if you
are able to see God in one who has come to kill you, then you have gone
beyond all division.
Gurudev said, “Honour those who have bad characters. Serve the
rogue first. Treat him as a future saint, or as a saint himself; this
is the way to purify your heart and to elevate him also.” In one
of his earliest letters to Swami Paramanandaji (1934-35) he wrote, “I
want around me a number of people who will abuse me, insult me, vilify
and injure me. I want to serve them, educate them and transform them.”
In a crowd he would seek out the bad characters first, whether they
be in white or ochre robes and greet them with folded palms. He would
address them in the most respectful terms. Gurudev said, “Acclaim
the rogue as a saint; publicly honour him and he will be ashamed to
continue his evil doings. Persistently tell an ill-tempered man, ‘You
are an embodiment of peace’ and he will be ashamed to lose his
temper. Call a lazy man a dynamic worker and he will plunge himself
into service. But the praise must come from the very bottom of your
heart and you must pour your soul force into every word, sincerely feeling
that behind the apparent negative quality, there is a resplendent positive
virtue latent, waiting only to be established. If you do this both of
you will be benefited.”
If this spirit of karma yoga is awakened within our hearts, then our
every action must necessarily reflect this attitude. In the Master’s
case one could see that he felt the presence of God, not only in shrines,
temples, in holy people and holy places, but even in plants, in animals,
and also in inanimate objects. The way he closed his fountain pen was
a delight to watch. He would place it–not drop it–on the table.
It was beautiful. It was an art. There was a delicacy about it. When
he picked up a shawl and wrapped it around himself, there was beauty.
The art was there, because the heart was behind. Even when Gurudev was
bedridden and someone gave him a parcel, though he couldn’t reach
the floor, you could see how much he would strain not to drop it. I
don’t think he ever broke anything. Only once a monkey picked up
his fountain pen and took it away and later somebody gave it a banana–it
dropped the pen. Otherwise I don’t remember an accident ever happening
to the things that he used. People; especially foreign visitors, often
used to give him things, then he would give the old ones to somebody
else. Nothing ever went out of order. Even in these things he could
feel the presence of God.
It is not that in order to practise karma yoga you must go and seek
out some poor people to do charity, or find the sick (or even make them
sick) to render them some service. For Swami Sivananda, everything was
sacred. All the Objects in the world were sacred. The Master did not
confine karma yoga to special departments. He was definite and emphatic,
“Unselfish, motiveless action is possible wherever one may be,
whatever one’s lifestyle or profession. The right spirit demands–do
your allotted duty or work, without any motivation whatsoever and your
actions will be peaceful, blissful and fruitful.”
In the Master’s ashram in Rishikesh, swamis themselves were engaged
in every kind of activity you can think of. Once Gurudev himself said,
“Not only do I work hard, I know how to extract work from others.”
It is a beautiful expression. How did he do this? Sometimes he would
lean back in his chair and put his spectacles up; sometimes he would
close one eye and look just look. And then he would smile. What was
there in that voice, in those few words, in that mere look? And something
in that face, something in those eyes was bewitching. He conquered by
love.
Gurudev was extremely patient with sloppy work, with inefficiency,
mistakes. These he did not mind at all. There was virtually nothing
he would not put up with, except, he used to say, laziness. How does
one make another person work? The first answer is that you must set
an example. Swami Sivananda was himself the best example.
There was another method which he adopted. If you were lazy, first
you would get from the Master some fruit, and milk and coffee, and some
other gifts. Whenever you went near Swami Sivananda, he would greet
you and praise your good qualities. This was an indirect way of suggesting,
“You are such a wonderful man, why don’t you do something
about it ?” Sometimes you take the hint, and at others you say,
“I am meditating six hours a day,” and he would respond eagerly,
“Very good, you must meditate, do some kirtan and bhajan.”
You think he is encouraging you to do that and you become even more
lazy. Even the fruit and the coffee do not inspire you, stimulate you.
Then in your presence he starts talking about somebody else; “What
a dynamic man he is. Everybody ought to be like that.” This applies
to you, but you already have an image of sitting and meditating for
six hours and so do not heed it. If all this does not work, he might
say, “For a change, get up and do something.” He could come
down like a thunderbolt for a few minutes and then he would be milk
and honey again. If even that failed, when there was a financial crisis
the first ones to go were the lazy people. Laziness, he would not tolerate.
Even when he had typhoid and therefore he was extremely weak, he often
enquired about lazy people in the ashram. “We should not entertain
lazy people here.” He himself was never lazy. The body was looked
after very well, and then it was made to work hard. Why do you want
to drop a healthy body in the grave for the worms to consume? Squeeze
it; extract the last ounce of “juice” from it before you throw
it away.
Gurudev was more than father and mother for the aspirants in the ashram.
If someone manifested the least trace of a hidden talent, he would almost
dedicate himself to awakening it, cultivating its unfoldment to the
fullest manifestation. Gurudev would incessantly contemplate ways and
means to do this. Each must express himself fully for the benefit of
mankind. One young man who said he knew the technique of paper manufacturing
walked into the ashram. The next morning Gurudev asked for the pit to
be dug, and raw materials were ordered. Gurudev encouraged this man
to experiment with his ideas, though he had absolutely no credentials
and Gurudev never asked for any.
A good musician joined the ashram and the very next day a new harmonium
and tabla were ordered for him. Gurudev himself would take such a keen
interest in all these enterprises, that you would think that he had
been waiting just for you to come along and help him in this work. Such
was his enthusiasm that in a short while, he would be giving the adept
in his field, hints for improving his work.
Swami Saradananda joined the ashram in 1947. When Gurudev found that
he had an aptitude for photography, immediately a photographic department
was formed, and Gurudev was all encouragement. Eventually, it was one
of the best equipped studios in the country. One must remember that
all this took place at the foot of the Himalayas, not in a technologically
advanced metropolis.
Another interesting event occurred when a cook, who had not come to
stay at the ashram, was encouraged by Gurudev to open a restaurant and
carry on a business for his own profit. Gurudev’s attitude was:
“First make him stay here, and then slowly convert him to spiritual
practice.”
All ashram departments were run by the swamis themselves. The swamis
did all the correspondence and maintained accounts. These activities
were not shunned as “worldly” activities.
Gurudev was not ashamed to do whatever had to bo done. In the early
days of the ashram, Swamiji used to conduct yoga camps for a week during
the Christmas and also the Easter holidays. Visitors used to come from
all over India, as well as from abroad. Some of them were magistrates,
police officials, advocates, business people, but in the ashram they
were treated as spiritual aspirants. One morning the Master would announce,
“Today is karma yoga. Come on, we are all scavengers–today
we shall clean the roads.” And there were no distinctions at all,
the Master was there first. When you set out to clean the roadside in
some of the villages in India you may find anything–cow dung, dead
rats etc. Now comes the problem: the professional road-sweeper has his
broom with which he shoves all the dirt away, but we may not do that.
That is not the right spiri
