Dasa Avatars

[kalyan chakravarthy]

Namaskaaram,


Understand the usage of the word *proper*. Which means, some puranas were
tampered with, unlike other smriti texts like gItA. Many puranas contradict
each other openly. In this context, the sruti reigns supreme. Purana
portions that contradict sruti will be liable to rejection and cannot be
used as a *valid* smriti. In the brahmasUtras, portions of some smritis are
rejected due to the same reason.

May be it would be better for you read the exact definitions of sruti,
smriti etc.

Best regards
Kalyan




>From: Malolan Cadambi <cadambi at HOTPOP.COM>
>Reply-To: List for advaita vedanta as taught by Shri Shankara
><ADVAITA-L at LISTS.ADVAITA-VEDANTA.ORG>
>To: ADVAITA-L at LISTS.ADVAITA-VEDANTA.ORG
>Subject: Re: Dasa Avatars
>Date: Wed, 30 Apr 2003 19:30:39 -0500
>
> > Are you asking me to believe the padma purana? :):):)
> > The puranas are not even proper smriti texts.
>
>http://www.kamakoti.org/hindudharma/
>
>I suppose it is best for you to start from the basics.
>
> > You are giving me varied definitions of dharma. Sometime back you said
>that
> > chanting janardhana's names is dharma. Now you say that puranas are the
> > heart of dharma.
>
>Dharma has so many meanings. There are atleast 8 Smriti-s like the Manu
>Smriti, Yajnavalkya Smriti, Harita Smriti and so on.
>
>"DharmO rakshati rakshitaha"
>
>Regards,
>
>Malolan Cadambi


_________________________________________________________________
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>From  Thu May  1 22:02:02 2003
Message-Id: <THU.1.MAY.2003.220202.0700.>
Date: Thu, 1 May 2003 22:02:02 -0700
Reply-To: sanjay1297 at yahoo.com
To: List for advaita vedanta as taught by Shri Shankara
        <ADVAITA-L at LISTS.ADVAITA-VEDANTA.ORG>
From: Sanjay Verma <sanjay1297 at YAHOO.COM>
Subject: Adi Shankaracharya's journey to the Narmada River
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Pranama to all, The following is an article from www.sulekha.com. Please note, is is a self-professed fictionalized account. I find the end, in which Adi Shankaracharya introduces himself to his Master, to be particularly edifying. May you be at peace,Sanjay ****************************The article is a fictionalised account of Adi Sankaracharya's journey to the Narmada river to become the disciple of Govindapada.
The boy had been walking for many days now. Walking now came easily to him, and it was a rare day when he did not cover 7 or 8 kos, whatever be the condition of the path. His feet were rock-hard now, not any more lacerated by rocks and thorns like they were only a few months ago. He had also become good in jungle craft -- scouting out safe places to sleep at night and locating edible roots and firewood. He smiled wryly to himself that he could now eat as much tapioca as he wanted; in his younger days he loved tapioca roast-cooked on charcoal -- his mother tried her best to dissuade him from eating this -- according to her -- unhealthy food. Because of his new self-sufficiency he now generally avoided villages.

His first encounter with a forest occurred soon after he left home, but the forests of his country were nothing compared to those of the Middle Country -- thick, dark and terrifying even in mid-afternoon. As he walked through the forest, he remembered a conversation between his father and his mother years ago, when he was barely two years old. His father had been talking of the episode of Nala and Damayanti in the Mahabharata , and quoted a phrase, remarking that it was one of the grandest descriptions he had ever read:

"vanam pratibhayam sunyam jhillikagana naditam"

(The forest great empty | Resounding with the thunder of crickets)

The boy had liked the phrase very much, and stunned his father by repeating the phrase back to him the next day. Since that time, his father had started treating the precocious child like a grown-up and had always included him also in conversations at home. Now walking through the forest, the boy decided that there were many more sounds besides the thunder of the crickets in a forest. </P

He was now quite dirty. In the beginning he hated the dirt and bathed at every opportunity -- but soon stopped caring, as he became dirty within a few minutes of a bath. Also, he had become cautious of the forest ponds after his first horrifying encounter with leeches. He had to actually crush two of the loathsome creatures full of his blood with stones before they let go of his leg.

Neither did he mind his tattered dhoti, now almost in shreds. The change he carried in the bundle on a stick was no better. They were actually his second pair. He remembered the woman who had gifted them. It happened soon after he entered the Middle Country. He was then not the veteran he was now, and was grateful for the sight of a village - a source of cooked food and curious onlookers. He had by then picked up a smattering of the Middle Country dialect, and had gone to a relatively prosperous-looking house in the biggish village that he entered around midday. His exhortation to give alms to a mendicant was answered by a tall, beautiful woman. The woman was as usual unsettled by his extreme youth, and after she was done with staring asked him to go to the backyard to bathe. He had gone to the well, and with the child's lack of self-consciousness undressed at the well, and was washing his dirty tattered dhoti when the lady appeared with a new dhoti and angavastra marked with turmeric. She left them on the edge of the well platform, signing to him to wear them instead.

The meal that followed was the best he had eaten after leaving home. The lady fed him like his own mother. Close up, she looked very sad -- in fact on the verge of tears, and more than once she left abruptly to wipe her tears. He could not tell the reason for the lady's unhappiness -- nor did he sight a man in the house. Except for two or three children slightly younger than him, who stared at him open-mouthed from all around the place, there was no one else in the house.

Unlike many others he had encountered earlier, she never tried to probe his background, and where he was headed. In fact, the only conversation during the meal had happened when he asked her about the Master. She listened gravely to him and shook her head to signify that she did not know anything of the Master. When he was leaving, the lady presented him with another dhoti and angavastra and now openly crying, prostrated herself before him. He had spoken the benediction with a strange lump in his throat.

He had in fact heard of the Master as soon as he entered the Middle Country, from a learned man in a village. Like many other villagers the boy had encountered, the man had thought that he had run away from home, and tried to reason with him to return. He was then disagreeably surprised by the depth of the boy's erudition and his determination, and had thrown the name as a gauntlet -- if you are so good, and aim so high, why not go to the Master? The name had sent a shiver of electricity down the boy's spine -- after all, was he not also seeking a Master? This Master was the most well known Knower in all of the Middle Country, the villager asserted. Still, he could give the boy only a general direction and the name of a river. Knowing that these would not be sufficient, the boy had tried to supplement his knowledge at every opportunity, enquiring in villages and of wayfarers and trying to steer himself in the correct direction.

The country had turned hilly in the last couple of weeks, increasing his fears of getting lost. A couple of days back he had met a huntsman who confirmed that the river was indeed near, but could say nothing of the Master's ashram, other than a vague "there are many holy men near the river". Since then the boy had walked in a heightened state of suspense. He was by no means very sure of his navigational skills; what if he were badly off the mark? Would he get correct directions? Was the river he approached in fact the correct river? If he happened to land up at the wrong spot, would it be possible to walk along the river to locate the ashram? How would he be received? Would he be considered under-aged?

The boy had started early that morning, as usual. He had been climbing throughout the morning towards a ridge, walking through scrub jungle that was by no means unpleasant. The sky was overcast, and it rained occasionally, making the ground quite mushy in places. The fragrance of aromatic shrubs hung in the air. The boy soon reached the ridge towards which he had been climbing for the past few hours. He then stared open-mouthed; for the sight in front of his was breathtaking indeed.

There was indeed a river in front of him, mighty and angry, visible through several low hills covered with scrub jungle in the foreground. The river was in spate, with fast-moving yellow muddy water. But what quickly drew the boy's attention was the flooded plain that separated the hill on which he stood with the hills in the foreground. It quickly became clear to him that the hills in front of him abutted the river; it was evident that the ashram would be on the other side of the hills in front of him, facing the river. He must climb down and climb up, and walk around to the front of the hills for any chance of reaching the ashram.

After a brief rest the boy started to climb down, his anxiety increasing by the minute. He soon reached the flooded plain. The water was muddy; it was impossible to ascertain where it was deep, and what the depth was at any place. He also noticed that there was a current. The boy stood in an agony of indecision for several minutes. Never in his imagination did he expect to cross a flooded and treacherous plain to reach the Master. The floodwaters seemed to be deeper than his height, and it was easily over half a kos wide. The boy realized that this was the toughest challenge he had faced as yet in his voyage, and he might well lose his life crossing the plain.

Pushing back his fears of the current and leeches, he spent some time mentally charting out what seemed to be the shallows. He then abandoned his change of clothing and girded up his loins and slowly waded in. He soon realized that the crossing was very tough work. His feet constantly sank into the mud where there was no current; where there was current it was very strong, and he had to hang on to the semi-submerged shrubs to avoid falling and being carried away. The water was neck deep at many places, but he quickly became adept in spotting the shallows with less current.

After a couple of hours of hard labour, the boy reached the base of the hillock on the other side of the plain. He was muddy and shivering, but exhilarated; it had started to rain as soon as he completed his crossing. The boy began to climb the hill, and soon came across a footpath that skirted the hill. This raised his spirits. He followed it, the roar of the river rising as he rounded the hill. The path became wider with others joining it as he skirted the hill, clearly confirming that a sizeable community lived nearby. As soon as he rounded the hill, he found himself about a hundred feet or so above the huge river. The path led towards some large caves; a crowd began to collect as he neared the caves.

As the boy reached the caves, he was surrounded by several young men in their late teens and early 20's, staring open-mouthed at the muddy apparition before them. Most of them had their hair tied up in topknots, and had straggly beards. The boy also noticed that they were dressed in valkalas, rough garments made of jute or hemp fibre that inmates of ashrams were expected to wear. They stared at him, and were speaking excitedly among themselves in an as yet unfamiliar dialect. He could however make out the gist of the conversation. They were wondering how someone so young could have crossed the flooded plain, where he could have come from, and whether he desired to be a disciple.

The boy waited, but no one addressed him. Finally he spoke, unconsciously slipping into Sanskrit:

"I wish to meet the Master, to beg of him the alms of Wisdom."

The boy waited in an agony of suspense. What if this place turned out to be another master's? Would he be interested to be the disciple of this other master? If he did not, would these boys be knowledgeable or gracious enough to direct him to the Master?

After a while one of the young men spoke in Sanskrit, in a strange accent:

"This is indeed the ashram of the Master. I do not know if he wishes to enlighten you. He spends much time in meditation these days."

So saying, the young man pointed higher up the hill. He then said:

"But you may ask him. I will show the way."

The young man then went inside and came back with a kamandalu, a jug with a spout. He gave this to the boy, and pointed out a safe spot on the bank. The boy went to the river, bathed and filled the jug with water.

It was already late in the afternoon by the time the two of them set off up the hill. Perhaps at another time the boy would have realised that he was faint with hunger and exertion -- but not now. He was exhilarated, and his heart was jumping with joy and hope. His mind acquired a strange clarity and calmness.

On the way the young man directed the boy to pluck some wild flowers and carry them in the folds of his dhoti. After a long and hard climb they came to a very small cave. It was so small that no man could get in without crawling. It was very dark inside, and difficult to make out if any one was inside. The young man whispered:

"The Master meditates inside. Ask him."

So saying, the young man walked away, without looking back.

The boy waited for some time, but nothing happened. Finally he said:

"Master, please give me the alms of Wisdom. I come from the South, far away"

He waited for a long time. Then a deep voice said from inside:

"It does not matter where you are from. Who are you?"

The words were like a whiplash. The boy felt as if he had been launched into the clouds by an enormously powerful catapult. He began to speak, loudly and clearly, in the sing-song accent peculiar to his country, without thinking, as all his education, preparation, experience, and the very memories of his race flooded through him in an ineffable thrill:

I am not of this ego, of mind, reason, and self
I am not of this body of life, wind matter and organs
Nor am I of the sky, energy, and wind </EM

I have no hate nor love nor greed nor desire
Nor conceit nor envy nor pride
I have no dharma, artha, desire nor deliverance </EM

I have neither merit, nor sin, neither pleasure nor sorrow
I have neither mantra nor tirtha, nor sacrifice nor Veda
I am not the enjoyer, the enjoyed, nor the act of enjoyment </EM

I have neither death nor doubt.
I have no class or distinction
I have neither father, nor mother, nor birth
No relatives, nor friends, nor Guru, nor disciple </EM

I have no beginning, no end, no form
Nothing binds or frees me
All-pervading, I am the essence of Joy
I am Bliss, the Pure, the One.

The boy fell silent. It was as if a storm had subsided; he felt close to fainting, an angry ringing in his ears. After a while, the deep voice from inside said:

"You do not need a Master. I believe you came thither only to honour Tradition. Maybe it is Fate. I accept you as my disciple. Perform the ablutions that Tradition requires."

The boy was racked with sobs of joy. Soon a pair of feet emerged from the cave. They were fair skinned and shapely, with thin translucent skin. They were not hard and callused like the boy's. Barely able to see for the tears in his eyes, and his tears freely mingling with the water from the jug, the boy washed the feet. He then worshipped them with the wild flowers.

By then it was late evening. A brilliant moon had risen.


_______________________________________

The journey of a thousand miles begins
with a single step.--Chinese Proverb

_______________________________________

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<DIV><FONT face=arial>Pranama to all,</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial>The following is an article from </FONT><A href="http://www.sulekha.com"><FONT face=arial>www.sulekha.com</FONT></A><FONT face=arial>. Please note, is is a self-professed <EM>fictionalized </EM>account. I find the end, in which Adi Shankaracharya introduces himself to his Master, to be particularly edifying.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial>May you be at peace,</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial>Sanjay</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial>****************************</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=arial><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt">The article is a fictionalised account of Adi Sankaracharya's journey to the Narmada river to become the disciple of Govindapada. </SPAN></I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy had been walking for many days now. Walking now came easily to him, and it was a rare day when he did not cover 7 or 8<I> kos</I>, whatever be the condition of the path. His feet were rock-hard now, not any more lacerated by rocks and thorns like they were only a few months ago. He had also become good in jungle craft -- scouting out safe places to sleep at night and locating edible roots and firewood. He smiled wryly to himself that he could now eat as much tapioca as he wanted; in his younger days he loved tapioca roast-cooked on charcoal -- his mother tried her best to dissuade him from eating this -- according to her -- unhealthy food. Because of his new self-sufficiency he now generally avoided villages. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>His first encounter with a forest occurred soon after he left home, but the forests of his country were nothing compared to those of the Middle Country -- thick, dark and terrifying even in mid-afternoon. As he walked through the forest, he remembered a conversation between his father and his mother years ago, when he was barely two years old. His father had been talking of the episode of <I>Nala</I> and <I>Damayanti</I> in the <I>Mahabharata</I><?xml:namespace prefix = v ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" /><v:shapetype id=_x0000_t75 stroked="f" filled="f" path="m at 4@5l at 4@11 at 9@11 at 9@5xe" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" coordsize="21600,21600"> <v:stroke joinstyle="miter"></v:stroke><v:formulas><v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></v:f><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></v:f><v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></v:f></v:formulas><v:path o:connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" o:extrusionok="f"></v:path><o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></o:lock></v:shapetype></FONT><v:shape id=_x0000_i1025 style="WIDTH: 0.75pt; HEIGHT: 0.75pt" alt="" type="#_x0000_t75"></v:shape><FONT face=arial>, and quoted a phrase, remarking that it was one of the grandest descriptions he had ever read: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><FONT face=arial><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt">"vanam pratibhayam sunyam jhillikagana naditam" </SPAN></I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><o:p></o:p></SPAN></FONT></P>
<P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto"><FONT face=arial><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt">(The forest great empty | Resounding with the thunder of crickets)</SPAN><BR><BR>The boy had liked the phrase very much, and stunned his father by repeating the phrase back to him the next day. Since that time, his father had started treating the precocious child like a grown-up and had always included him also in conversations at home. Now walking through the forest, the boy decided that there were many more sounds besides the thunder of the crickets in a forest. </P</FONT></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>He was now quite dirty. In the beginning he hated the dirt and bathed at every opportunity -- but soon stopped caring, as he became dirty within a few minutes of a bath. Also, he had become cautious of the forest ponds after his first horrifying encounter with leeches. He had to actually crush two of the loathsome creatures full of his blood with stones before they let go of his leg. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>Neither did he mind his tattered <EM>dhoti</EM>, now almost in shreds. The change he carried in the bundle on a stick was no better. They were actually his second pair. He remembered the woman who had gifted them. It happened soon after he entered the Middle Country. He was then not the veteran he was now, and was grateful for the sight of a village - a source of cooked food and curious onlookers. He had by then picked up a smattering of the Middle Country dialect, and had gone to a relatively prosperous-looking house in the biggish village that he entered around midday. His exhortation to give alms to a mendicant was answered by a tall, beautiful woman. The woman was as usual unsettled by his extreme youth, and after she was done with staring asked him to go to the backyard to bathe. He had gone to the well, and with the child's lack of self-consciousness undressed at the well, and was washing his dirty tattered dhoti when the lady appeared with a new <I>dhoti</I> and <I>angavastra</I> marked with turmeric. She left them on the edge of the well platform, signing to him to wear them instead. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The meal that followed was the best he had eaten after leaving home. The lady fed him like his own mother. Close up, she looked very sad -- in fact on the verge of tears, and more than once she left abruptly to wipe her tears. He could not tell the reason for the lady's unhappiness -- nor did he sight a man in the house. Except for two or three children slightly younger than him, who stared at him open-mouthed from all around the place, there was no one else in the house. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>Unlike many others he had encountered earlier, she never tried to probe his background, and where he was headed. In fact, the only conversation during the meal had happened when he asked her about the Master. She listened gravely to him and shook her head to signify that she did not know anything of the Master. When he was leaving, the lady presented him with another <I>dhoti</I> and <I>angavastra</I> and now openly crying, prostrated herself before him. He had spoken the benediction with a strange lump in his throat. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>He had in fact heard of the Master as soon as he entered the Middle Country, from a learned man in a village. Like many other villagers the boy had encountered, the man had thought that he had run away from home, and tried to reason with him to return. He was then disagreeably surprised by the depth of the boy's erudition and his determination, and had thrown the name as a gauntlet -- if you are so good, and aim so high, why not go to the Master? The name had sent a shiver of electricity down the boy's spine -- after all, was he not also seeking a Master? This Master was the most well known Knower in all of the Middle Country, the villager asserted. Still, he could give the boy only a general direction and the name of a river. Knowing that these would not be sufficient, the boy had tried to supplement his knowledge at every opportunity, enquiring in villages and of wayfarers and trying to steer himself in the correct direction. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The country had turned hilly in the last couple of weeks, increasing his fears of getting lost. A couple of days back he had met a huntsman who confirmed that the river was indeed near, but could say nothing of the Master's ashram, other than a vague "there are many holy men near the river". Since then the boy had walked in a heightened state of suspense. He was by no means very sure of his navigational skills; what if he were badly off the mark? Would he get correct directions? Was the river he approached in fact the correct river? If he happened to land up at the wrong spot, would it be possible to walk along the river to locate the ashram? How would he be received? Would he be considered under-aged? <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy had started early that morning, as usual. He had been climbing throughout the morning towards a ridge, walking through scrub jungle that was by no means unpleasant. The sky was overcast, and it rained occasionally, making the ground quite mushy in places. The fragrance of aromatic shrubs hung in the air. The boy soon reached the ridge towards which he had been climbing for the past few hours. He then stared open-mouthed; for the sight in front of his was breathtaking indeed. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>There was indeed a river in front of him, mighty and angry, visible through several low hills covered with scrub jungle in the foreground. The river was in spate, with fast-moving yellow muddy water. But what quickly drew the boy's attention was the flooded plain that separated the hill on which he stood with the hills in the foreground. It quickly became clear to him that the hills in front of him abutted the river; it was evident that the <EM>ashram</EM> would be on the other side of the hills in front of him, facing the river. He must climb down and climb up, and walk around to the front of the hills for any chance of reaching the <EM>ashram</EM>. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>After a brief rest the boy started to climb down, his anxiety increasing by the minute. He soon reached the flooded plain. The water was muddy; it was impossible to ascertain where it was deep, and what the depth was at any place. He also noticed that there was a current. The boy stood in an agony of indecision for several minutes. Never in his imagination did he expect to cross a flooded and treacherous plain to reach the Master. The floodwaters seemed to be deeper than his height, and it was easily over half a <I>kos</I> wide. The boy realized that this was the toughest challenge he had faced as yet in his voyage, and he might well lose his life crossing the plain. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>Pushing back his fears of the current and leeches, he spent some time mentally charting out what seemed to be the shallows. He then abandoned his change of clothing and girded up his loins and slowly waded in. He soon realized that the crossing was very tough work. His feet constantly sank into the mud where there was no current; where there was current it was very strong, and he had to hang on to the semi-submerged shrubs to avoid falling and being carried away. The water was neck deep at many places, but he quickly became adept in spotting the shallows with less current. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>After a couple of hours of hard labour, the boy reached the base of the hillock on the other side of the plain. He was muddy and shivering, but exhilarated; it had started to rain as soon as he completed his crossing. The boy began to climb the hill, and soon came across a footpath that skirted the hill. This raised his spirits. He followed it, the roar of the river rising as he rounded the hill. The path became wider with others joining it as he skirted the hill, clearly confirming that a sizeable community lived nearby. As soon as he rounded the hill, he found himself about a hundred feet or so above the huge river. The path led towards some large caves; a crowd began to collect as he neared the caves. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>As the boy reached the caves, he was surrounded by several young men in their late teens and early 20's, staring open-mouthed at the muddy apparition before them. Most of them had their hair tied up in topknots, and had straggly beards. The boy also noticed that they were dressed in <EM>valkalas</EM>, rough garments made of jute or hemp fibre that inmates of ashrams were expected to wear. They stared at him, and were speaking excitedly among themselves in an as yet unfamiliar dialect. He could however make out the gist of the conversation. They were wondering how someone so young could have crossed the flooded plain, where he could have come from, and whether he desired to be a disciple. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy waited, but no one addressed him. Finally he spoke, unconsciously slipping into Sanskrit: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"I wish to meet the Master, to beg of him the alms of Wisdom." <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy waited in an agony of suspense. What if this place turned out to be another master's? Would he be interested to be the disciple of this other master? If he did not, would these boys be knowledgeable or gracious enough to direct him to the Master? <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>After a while one of the young men spoke in Sanskrit, in a strange accent: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"This is indeed the <EM>ashram</EM> of the Master. I do not know if he wishes to enlighten you. He spends much time in meditation these days." <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>So saying, the young man pointed higher up the hill. He then said: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"But you may ask him. I will show the way." <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The young man then went inside and came back with a <I>kamandalu</I>, a jug with a spout. He gave this to the boy, and pointed out a safe spot on the bank. The boy went to the river, bathed and filled the jug with water. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>It was already late in the afternoon by the time the two of them set off up the hill. Perhaps at another time the boy would have realised that he was faint with hunger and exertion -- but not now. He was exhilarated, and his heart was jumping with joy and hope. His mind acquired a strange clarity and calmness. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>On the way the young man directed the boy to pluck some wild flowers and carry them in the folds of his <I>dhoti</I>. After a long and hard climb they came to a very small cave. It was so small that no man could get in without crawling. It was very dark inside, and difficult to make out if any one was inside. The young man whispered: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"The Master meditates inside. Ask him." <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>So saying, the young man walked away, without looking back. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy waited for some time, but nothing happened. Finally he said: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"Master, please give me the alms of Wisdom. I come from the South, far away" <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>He waited for a long time. Then a deep voice said from inside: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"It does not matter where you are from. Who are you?" <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The words were like a whiplash. The boy felt as if he had been launched into the clouds by an enormously powerful catapult. He began to speak, loudly and clearly, in the sing-song accent peculiar to his country, without thinking, as all his education, preparation, experience, and the very memories of his race flooded through him in an ineffable thrill: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P><EM><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>I am not of this ego, of mind, reason, and self </FONT></SPAN></EM><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><BR><FONT face=arial><EM>I am not of this body of life, wind matter and organs</EM><BR><EM>Nor am I of the sky, energy, and wind </EM</EM></FONT></SPAN><EM><o:p></o:p></EM></I></P>
<P><EM><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>I have no hate nor love nor greed nor desire</FONT></SPAN></EM><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><BR><FONT face=arial><EM>Nor conceit nor envy nor pride </EM><BR><EM>I have no dharma, artha, desire nor deliverance </EM</EM></FONT></SPAN><EM><o:p></o:p></EM></I></P>
<P><EM><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>I have neither merit, nor sin, neither pleasure nor sorrow </FONT></SPAN></EM><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><BR><FONT face=arial><EM>I have neither mantra nor tirtha, nor sacrifice nor Veda </EM><BR><EM>I am not the enjoyer, the enjoyed, nor the act of enjoyment </EM</EM></FONT></SPAN><EM><o:p></o:p></EM></I></P>
<P><EM><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>I have neither death nor doubt. </FONT></SPAN></EM><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><BR><FONT face=arial><EM>I have no class or distinction </EM><BR><EM>I have neither father, nor mother, nor birth </EM><BR><EM>No relatives, nor friends, nor Guru, nor disciple </EM</EM></FONT></SPAN><EM><o:p></o:p></EM></I></P>
<P><EM><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>I have no beginning, no end, no form </FONT></SPAN></EM><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><BR><FONT face=arial><EM>Nothing binds or frees me </EM><BR><EM>All-pervading, I am the essence of Joy</EM><BR><EM>I am Bliss, the Pure, the One.</EM> <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></I></P>
<P><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy fell silent. It was as if a storm had subsided; he felt close to fainting, an angry ringing in his ears. After a while, the deep voice from inside said: <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></I></P>
<P><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>"You do not need a Master. I believe you came thither only to honour Tradition. Maybe it is Fate. I accept you as my disciple. Perform the ablutions that Tradition requires." <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></I></P>
<P><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>The boy was racked with sobs of joy. Soon a pair of feet emerged from the cave. They were fair skinned and shapely, with thin translucent skin. They were not hard and callused like the boy's. Barely able to see for the tears in his eyes, and his tears freely mingling with the water from the jug, the boy washed the feet. He then worshipped them with the wild flowers. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></I></P>
<P><I><SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt"><FONT face=arial>By then it was late evening. A brilliant moon had risen. </FONT></SPAN></I></P></DIV><BR><BR>_______________________________________<br><br>The journey of a thousand miles begins<br>with a single step.--Chinese Proverb<br><br>_______________________________________<p><hr SIZE=1>
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