[[Mohan K.V 2014-06-28, 02:20:26 Source]]
सदास्वादः
63
अवकॢप्त-समस्त-वस्तु-विहीनोऽपि, अनन्त-तद्-विरोधि-पापाक्रान्तोऽपि, अनन्त-मद्-अपचार-युक्तोऽपि, अनन्त-मदीयापचार-युक्तोऽपि,
(avakḷpta-samasta-vastu-vihīno api, ananta-tad-virodhi-pāpākrānto api, ananta-mad-apacāra-yukto api, ananta-madīyāpacāra-yukto api,)
Meaning
“[…] Even though you may be devoid of every right quality, even though you may be pervaded by wickedness that directly opposes those qualities, even though you may have wronged me, even though you may have wronged my people, […]” Phew! The weight of all those bulky bahuvrīhi compounds are balanced only by the puny ‘api’s (‘even though’s)! What’s going on here? Note also the sighting of the rare vowel ऌ in the wild!
Context
The chapter’s phrase is taken from the Śaraṇāgati Gadya of Śrī Rāmānujācārya. The ācārya lived about 900 years ago in south India, and is the founder of the Śrī-vaiṣṇava sect that thrives even today. He is considered as the chief exponent of the Viśiṣṭādvaita view of Vedānta, and as one of the central figures in all of Hinduism. Much of the information available about his life is from near-hagiographical works; but one is struck even by the stories of his efforts at social reform. For example, one story goes that even from his earliest days, he openly rebelled against caste hierarchies. When he was still a student, after many gruelling tests, his guru at the time, Goṣṭhīpūrṇa, taught him the Aṣṭākṣarī mantra, and warned him that it was to be a kept a profound secret. It had the power to grant supreme liberation to the receiver, but could be revealed only to the most suitable, most vetted disciples — or else the giver would land straight in hell. The first thing Rāmānujācarya did on hearing this was to climb the tallest tower in town and shout out the mantra to everyone in earshot! He even made sure that the sweepers got it right before he climbed down to meet his furious guru.
This all-inclusive attitude continued with even greater force as he gained respect and influence in religious circles; the ācārya himself led members of lower castes into temples, saying Bhakti was universal. Imagine the sight of a man, with an unimpeachable reputation as a scholar and very highly regarded by the staunchest traditionalists, turning against the Establishment with such an act! It would come as a surprise even today; imagine 900 years ago!
The ācārya’s attitude extended even to how he accumulated his learning in the first place. He traveled all over South India, engaging with everyone from the highest-caste priests to the lowest-caste Caṇḍālas as he sought to crystallize his philosophy. The culmination of these efforts was in his magnum opus, the Śrī-bhāṣya, a commentary on the Brahma-sūtras. There are some thrilling legends about this work. One says that the ācārya had to travel to Kashmir with his disciple Kooresan to access the only available copies of the Bodhāyana-vṛtti, an earlier, foundational commentary. Even though the King of Kashmir complied with his request, the priests of the court grew jealous and refused to allow him to make a copy. The ācārya had an ace up his sleeve — he humbly requested that they be allowed to at least glance through the work once. Thinking that the archaic, difficult work would be impossible to be even understood, forget analyzed, in such a glance, the priests agreed. It turned out Kooresan had an exceptional memory, and recited the whole work back to the ācārya when they got back! These legends are mainly to be taken for their poetic value, but how we wish every philosophy came with a bunch of them associated with it!
Everywhere in the ācārya’s work, there is a synthesis of the works of Southern bhakti poets who wrote in Tamil, like the Alwars, and the canonical texts in Sanskrit. Many followers continue to uphold this, and adherents are termed ‘ubhaya-vedāntins’, ‘those with the two vedāntas’.
One of the ācārya’s foremost teachings is Śaraṇāgati, complete surrender. Similar ideas are present in the canonical literature (from ‘yam evaiṣa vṛṇute tena labhyaḥ’ in the Muṇḍakopaniṣad – ‘Only to someone chosen by Him can He be known’, to the famous ‘sarva-dharmān parityajya mām ekaṃ śaraṇaṃ vraja’ in the Gītā), and the ācārya was one of its most forceful exponents.
The Śaraṇāgati-gadya is a prose ritual poem where the ācārya acts out such a surrender. He speaks to Lakṣmī and Nārāyaṇa, and asks Lakṣmī to ‘recommend his case’ to the Lord. Those words resonate as part of the regular daily ritual in hundreds of Śrī-vaiṣṇava temples and millions of Śrī-vaiṣṇava homes even today:
भगवन्-नारायणाभिमतानुरूप-स्वरूप-रूप-गुण-विभव-ऐश्वर्य-शीलादि-अनवधिकातिशय-असंख्येय-कल्याण-गुण-गणां
पद्म-वनालयां भगवतीं श्रियं देवीं
नित्यानपायिनीं निरवद्यां देव-देव-दिव्य-महिषीम्
अखिल-जगन्-मातरम् अस्मन्-मातरम् अशरण्य-शरण्याम्
अनन्य-शरणः शरणम् अहं प्रपद्ये ॥
bhagavan-nārāyaṇa-abhimata-anurūpa-svarūpa-rūpa-guṇa-vibhava-aiśvarya-śīlādi-anavadhika-atiśaya-asaṃkhyeya-kalyāṇa-guṇa-gaṇāṃ
padma-vanālayāṃ bhagavatīṃ śriyaṃ devīṃ
nityānapāyinīṃ niravadyāṃ deva-deva-divya-mahiṣīm
akhila-jagan-mātaram asman-mātaram aśaraṇya-śaraṇyām ananya-śaraṇaḥ
śaraṇam ahaṃ prapadye ||
“O Mother, you are matched with Lord Nārāyaṇa in his infinite noble qualities in every way;
O Goddess Śrī,
O constant one, O blameless one, O consort of the God of the Gods,
O Mother of all worlds, My mother, O refuge of those with no other,
With nowhere else to go, I surrender to you.”
The poetry here is in the sound, and in the beauty at the level of words and compounds. ‘kalyāṇa-guṇa’ is a beautiful way to say ‘noble quality’; ‘aśaraṇya-śaraṇya’ – ‘refuge of those with no other’. Of course, when chanted in a temple in a stentorian voice as a large mass of devotees reverentially listens, it takes on a whole new character!
The ācārya goes on to praise Lord Nārāyaṇa in many paragraphs, and again, the micro-artistry strikes us the most. The attitude of complete surrender pervades the whole work. Indeed, in an associated prose poem called the Śrī-Raṅga-gadya, there is a beautiful line where the devotee admits his lack of control over even his own mind:
एवं-भूत-तत्व-याथात्म्यावबोध-तद्-इच्छा-रहितस्यापि,
एतद्-उच्चारण मात्रावलम्बनेन, उच्यमानार्थ-परमार्थ निष्टम्, मे मनः, त्वम् एव अद्यैव कारय ।
evaṃ-bhūta-tatva-yāthātmya-avabodha-tad-icchā-rahitasya api,
etad-uccāraṇa mātra avalambanena, ucyamāna artha-paramārtha niṣṭam, me manaḥ, tvam eva adya eva kāraya.
“I feel no sincere desire to know the real nature of existence;
I am only saying the words; but please, make my mind follow their meaning, as only you can.”
Today’s phrase appears near the conclusion of the poem, where the ācārya imagines the Lord accepting him with all his faults:
एवं-भूत मत्-कैङ्कर्य-प्राप्त्युपायतया अवकॢप्त-समस्त-वस्तु-विहीनोऽपि ,
अनन्त-तद्-विरोधि-पापाक्रान्तोऽपि , अनन्त -मद्-अपचार-युक्तोऽपि , अनन्त-
मदीयापचार-युक्तोऽपि , …
येनकेनापि प्रकारेण द्वयवक्ता त्वम्, …
नित्यकिंकरो भव ।
evaṃ-bhūta mat-kaiṅkarya-prāptyupāyatayā avakḷpta-samasta-vastu-vihīno’pi ,
ananta-tad-virodhi-pāpākrānto’pi , ananta -mad-apacāra-yukto’pi , ananta-
madīyāpacāra-yukto’pi , …
yenakenāpi prakāreṇa dvayavaktā tvam, …
nityakiṃkaro bhava |
“You have come to me to surrender; Even though you may be devoid of every right quality, even though you may be pervaded by wickedness that directly opposes those qualities, even though you may have wronged me, even though you may have wronged my people, …, for the simple reason that you have somehow uttered these words, … I accept you as mine.”
(The skipped portions are details of the ‘nitya-kiṃkara’ state. We have also skipped the portion where the ācārya copiously quotes from sources like the Gītā and the Rāmāyaṇa to ‘support’ the conversation with ‘precedent’.)
The central idea, that just the words of surrender were sufficient, without even needing conviction or even intent, became a mainstay of the Bhakti movement later on; there is a lovely light song by Purandara Dāsa, which jokingly starts ‘nīn yāko ninna hang yāko?’, ‘Why do I need to put up with you or your tantrums?’, and goes to on to say that just the Lord’s name was sufficient to save devotees like Gajendra and Prahlāda.
Rāmānujācārya’s philosophy may be rather a matter of personal taste, but it is undeniable that the impact of his work extends far beyond just philosophy or religious thought. Many portions of the Carnatic music tradition; national treasures in the form of magnificent Hoysala temples at Belur, Tondanur, Talkad, Melkote and Gadag (famous for Vīra-Nārāyaṇa, which was the very life of the greatest Kannada epic poet, Kumāra-vyāsa); major public works like the Moti Talab reservoir which even today is the cause of the fertility of hundreds of acres surrounding it – all of these have as their core inspiration the perspective that Rāmānujācārya laid out: viewing the Lord as an infinitely compassionate being who accepts anyone who comes to him, and serving him devoutly (kaiṅkarya). A comment by Śatāvadhāni Dr. R. Ganesh in a different context seems apt to relate here: “We don’t know if God exists; but if He does, He better be like this!” :-)
Parting Thought
The Brahma-sūtras start saying ‘Athāto brahma-jijñāsā’ ‘And thus, [begins] curiosity about the Supreme”. They end thus:
अनावृत्तिः शब्दात् ।
anāvṛttiḥ śabdāt |
“Final emancipation, per the scripture.”
Thousands of extraordinarily intelligent people over the millennia have spent large parts of their lives to reach this statement with a feeling of satisfaction – like Rāmānujācārya did when he concluded his Śrī-bhāṣya with, ‘iti sarvaṃ samañjasam’ ‘Thus, everything is proper’.
If we step back from all the debates, from all the profound and silly rational justifications, from oneness with the universe and from the fear of being born again as a lizard or toad, from all the traditions and their devoted defenders – if we step back from all this activity of the ‘human anthill’, and try to empathize with these people, what really is that innate, ‘trans-rational’ craving that motivated them? Surely we must have it too, in some form – what is it?
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