[[Mohan K.V 2016-02-28, 20:14:11 Source]]
सदास्वादः
79
ददाम्यहं तण्डुलम् एव शुष्कम्
(dadāmi ahaṃ taṇḍulam eva śuṣkam)
Meaning
“All I give back is [a morsel of] dry rice”
Context
This chapter’s phrase is from the Mātṛ-pañcakam, a short set of verses attributed to Ādi Śaṅkara. He is said to have written these when his mother passed away. Among them lies the single most powerful jolt we have experienced in all our poetry reading:
मुक्तामणि त्वं! नयनम् ममेति
राजेति जीवेति चिरं सुत त्वम् ।
इत्युक्तवत्यास् तव वाचि मातः
ददाम्यहं तण्डुलम् एव शुष्कम् ॥
muktāmaṇi tvaṃ! nayanam mama iti
rājā iti jīva iti ciraṃ suta tvam |
iti uktavatyāḥ tava vāci mātaḥ
dadāmi ahaṃ taṇḍulam eva śuṣkam ||
“ ‘My dearest pearl!’, ‘The apple of my eye!’,
‘My prince!’ ‘May you live long!’
– to the lips which constantly uttered these words,
all I give back is a morsel of dry rice.”
In one of the last acts before cremation, the relatives gathered around pour a morsel of dry rice into the mouth of the deceased. The son is the last to do so. Śaṅkara’s verse is in that moment.
We can say little more about the heart-rending sincerity of this masterpiece than to note that the moment we read it, it was seared onto our memory like a branding iron, to last till the end of our days.
Dealing with the ultimate loss has been the subject of human thought since the origin of thought itself. One reflexive emotional reaction appears to be to create a context around the event to reduce its intensity. Our time here is simply a brief part of a much bigger narrative spanning many births and species – देहिनोऽस्मिन् यथा देहे कौमारं यौवनं जरा … , वासांसि जीर्णानि यथा विहाय … – and so death is merely just another transition in life like from childhood to youth, and changing bodies as simple an act as changing worn-out clothes. To some, this explanation is so convincing that accepting it is seen as a mark of intelligence and knowledge: from the Kaṭha’s “हन्ता चेन्मन्यते हन्तुम्…” to its later echo in the Gītā, “य एनं वेत्ति हन्तारं …”, it is simply of matter of ignorance if one thinks otherwise.
Others find the idea of ऋण, debt and a fixed time on this earth, to be of comfort. We are here because of our past debts. Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, we’re clearing one or the other debt with our every action. The moment we’re free, off we go. A grand cosmic accountancy of sorts keeps the whole system running. It is fair and equal, and the mature thing to do is to simply accept the existence of the system.
Yet others find solace in memories: photos, conversations, jokes, fights, writings – any imprint at all becomes a valuable, cherished memento, to be celebrated alone and in company, over and over as one goes through life’s stages oneself. And as long as memories exist, “शब्दः पुण्यस्य कर्मणः” – talk of one’s good deeds – exist, Hofstadter’s strange loops exist, one lives on.
Naturally, some of these well-meaning mechanisms may become distorted and misapplied over time. Special status is accorded to the last moment of life, from the thoughts and words that occupy it, to its exact timing in calendar charts. Great anxiety and sadness arise from holy days that are narrowly missed. The discussion on Devayāna and Pitṛyāna in the Chāndogya Upaniṣad, and its echoes in the Gītā and in Bhīṣma’s choice of postponing his death, have come to be (mis)summarized as, ‘Uttarāyaṇa good, Dakṣiṇāyana bad’. Heaven forbid a coin flip ending in the latter. Such ‘bad things’ happening to good people puts great stress on the cosmic accountancy’s fairness, and all sorts of discrepancies are sought in the departed’s unconscious actions or past lives to ‘explain’ the seeming injustice.
All that is for the experts to debate. As for us, only one truth seems evident: no matter how many śāstras or wise men we refer to for solace, when faced with loss, the grand total of all our capacities is simply a morsel of dry rice, offered too late.
Parting Thought
Many legends say that Śaṅkara was treated cruelly by his relatives at the time of his mother’s passing. They wouldn’t help with the cremation rites because of social restrictions on what a sannyāsin could do. Blind adherence to blinder tradition overrode humanity, like so many other times.
It is hard enough to deal with the blow from Fate, without also having to put up with social pain and dependency. But such is the nature of this blow that one is always forced into wretched dependency, perceived or real. If it was cruel relatives for Śaṅkara, for us it may be uncaring doctors or a haunting feeling of wondering whether we could have done more, asked for more help. No matter what the proximal situation, one develops a kind of extreme detachment that makes even the slightest dependence abhorrent.
Since times as old as the Yajurveda, at the very end of the strenuous karmakāṇḍa śrāddha rituals, after the pitṛs have been fed and satisfied, one is given the opportunity to ask for a prescribed blessing (the pitṛ-prārthanā). After going through all this hardship, what is the final blessing that is sought?
याचितारश् च नः सन्तु
मा च याचिष्म कञ्चन ।
yācitāraḥ ca naḥ santu
mā ca yāciṣma kañcana |
“May we have people who ask of us [so that we may give away freely],
but may we never need to beg anyone.”
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