Chapter 10 - Author's note

The idea of sanyasa is something that has fascinated me for a long time, and around last December, an idea propped up in my mind. I as usual consulted Shre, and Prasad, and got a nod from the former, while the latter warned me against it. I went ahead nevertheless, and that makes me a little extra scared. Though it is true that no one can do real justice to the topic, it is a humble attempt on my part to do the same!

The dawning sun is an allegory to the idea of a true sanyasin, and his quest to detachment. It is an idea of the ignorance (darkness) of the mind being banished with the approach of knowledge (enlightenment).

Please do read it and tell me what you feel, in the comments section! I apologize if it got a little too depressing, but at times that was the intention (mischievous wink ;)). This one's for you, Shre! :) Thank you folks!

Chapter 9

As he entered the Apollo hospital, he could see the tear-stained angry faces of  Sivaramakrishnan, Swetha, Anandavalli and Srinivasan. As he walked on, Srinivasan walked up to him, and beat him hard with his old umbrella, as he used to when Venkataraman was a kid. At the end of it Srinivasan broke down. Venkataraman calm as ever, kept walking. His mother, and daughter, hugged him to cry, and he walked on towards the ICU. He entered the ICU.

The blood pressure was rising. After nearly a week, it was rising for the first time. People around were shocked. The doctors were still not too confident though. Venkataraman went up to his struggling wife’s body, and touched upon her hand. She had miraculously regained consciousness that morning, and now the sings of revival were encouraging to the rest of the Venkataraman family. As he touched her hand, she turned. The face, first twitched into a big smile, and then, tears rolled out of the eyes. But as she smiled, the breathing started becoming difficult. The pressure started increasing rapidly. Venkataraman knew, this was the flourish before the end. She looked at him, and he looked right into her eyes. As their eyes were locked, the light firmness with which she held his hand was gone. She died with that smile on her face. He closed her eyes, whispered a chant, and turned up.

He completed her final rites. He had not shed a tear in the whole process. As he finished the rites, and walked towards the Indian Ocean, he realized that the mental detachment was beginning to work. He was feeling truly happy, as an individual. He had become a true sanyasin. 

Chapter 8

It struck Venkataraman that the guy had come to work on the day of his son’s death. Some detachment this must be! He was the real sanyasin, wasn’t he? He asked him, “Why do you stress so much importance on work?”

“You mean duty? One’s duties are the most important criteria to check, if you want to know if you’ve lived a good human life. One who doesn’t perform his duties well, does not get anywhere near a complete life. As Lord Krishna says in the Bhagvad Gita, karma yoga is the most visible form of attaining moksha. You know your duties, and you need to follow them. The sanatana dharma does not discriminate even against atheists. As long as their karma yoga count is alright, they are as eligible for moksha as any theist who spends his day in nama sankeertanams. A sanyasin is one, whose duties are completely done with, and does not have any place in the mind for anything else other than the divine thought. Satyananda was the son of the priest of the Sai Baba temple here. He used to hate me for a long time, since he was a strict proponent of vegetarianism. I used to tell him sanatana dharma propagates vegetarianism only for a certain group of the society, but he would never listen. Once when his age took over his senses, he was caught eating onion, which was a strict no for the Brahmins here. The whole town shunned him for the act, and the poor boy, disgusted with everyone around him, tried to kill himself. I saved him and brought him to my place. I talked sense into him, and told him that his life is worth more than a mere onion. He did not walk back into the town which shunned him for the matter of an onion, but he now knew that he had to perform his duties perfectly. He took him father, and went out of Shirdi. Years later, he came back, telling me that his father passed away, and he had taken up the sanyasa ashrama. It was understandable since, his duties ended with his father, and setting up a life for him. He was alone, and did not find the need for a grihastashrama and so took up the final step. So, you must understand, situations are different for different people, but all that should matter in your choice, is the answer to the question, “Are you doing your duty right?”

Venkataraman had got his answer, and he took leave of Khalsapati. Ramachandran got into the car, and they drove back, this time to Chennai.

Chapter 7

Khalsapati went to his customary seat and started the everyday job. As he picked up one pile of flesh, and cut through it completely, and then went ahead on to the second pile, Venkataraman’s stomach twisted, and he felt a sense of being let down. Why on earth would Satyananda send him to a man like this? Not only that, but also claim that this butcher, this lowly butcher who engages in cutting animal flesh everyday, is his guru. He felt Satyananda had definitely lost his head, and the entire last couple of days seemed to be going to the dumps. Khalsapati, while going through his routine, occasionally turned to smile at them, at which their faces twitched and then they turned away.

Khalsapati caught his drift of thought and promptly made a statement. “Even the greatest of people have been born in lowly families. Valmiki was born as Ratnakara, into a family of dacoits. Narada was initially born as the son of a maidservant, and later became the greatest devotee of Lord Narayana ever. Why, for that matter, even Lord Narayana was born first as a varaha, then a kurma, a varaha, and in his greatest avatar to date, as a gopala.”

“Krishna was born in a royal family.”, retorted Venkataraman.

“But, all he did was herd cows.” said Khalsapati as he gave away a pound of flesh to his last customer and went to wash his hands. He came back near Venkataraman, and sat beside him. “Remember my friend, the greatest of them all have lowly origins. But, origins are hardly what matters. I found my philosophy at the place of a prostitute. If that wasn’t enough, Satyananda found his at my place. Where you find your philosophy isn’t important, it’s finding it which is important.”

“I can see that your biggest doubts are regarding sanyasa. Well, Satyananda told you this and I have the same to tell you. Detachment is not necessarily a physical virtue. It could be mental alone, while physically you could attend to the duties prescribed to you. It would rather be gross injustice to the sanatana dharma if you did not attend to your duties in your pursuit for sanyasa. I was earlier an unhappy man. I once decided to visit a brothel. The prostitute came to the bed, when her child started crying outside the room. It made me feel very bad, that she had to attend to me instead of take care of the child. I asked her to go and make it sleep, before coming back to me. She said, “It is my baby. It is bound to keep crying all its life, for the kind of place it’s been born in. So, I don’t really attach any importance to its crying, I have gotten used to it already.” I do not know in which context she made that statement, but in which ever context it was made, it had opened my eyes. Mental Detachment was the answer to happiness. I gave her the money, and walked out. I tried practicing it. Initially it was difficult. But then, as a family man, I had to perform my duties, but I used to try to not keep a mental association with any of them. It soon started working. Life was never unhappy.” 

Chapter 6

Venkataraman, accompanied by Ramachandran in his Toyota Qualis, were racing towards Shirdi. It took them nearly a day and a half to get that far, that standing testament to the speed at which they were going. When they were around 20 km from Shirdi, they found someone asking for a lift. They gave him a lift. He was in a hurry apparently, and couldn’t wait till the next bus came around. He kept muttering the Sai nama to himself as the vehicle kept moving on. Venkataraman tried to strike up a conversation, “The Sai Baba is really popular in this part of the world, isn’t he?” The new guy said, “Yes huzoor, Baba lived and preached the life of love and humanity from here. He taught us how to live, and we are benefiting from the fruits of the seeds he sowed.”

Casually, Venkataraman enquired about the reason behind his hurry to get to work. He replied, “My customers would be waiting for me. I have kept them waiting for too long already. I generally am at my shop, around a couple of hours before this time, but today my son died in the morning. So, I was held up with getting his final rites done. That’s why I’m being late. Venkataraman and Ramachandran were aghast. They didn’t know if they had to feel sorry for this poor man, who had just lost his son, or if they should feel furious at someone who is rushing to work, hardly a couple of hours after his son has passed away.

They looked at each other, and then at the man. He smiled at them and said, “Friends, there is nothing to feel confused about. Lord Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita, that duty is foremost of all duties. Karmanye vadikaraste, maa phaleshu kadhachana. Do your duties, do not let the thought of the fruit cloud your head. My job is my duty. My son’s death is not going to reverse, and nor is his life going to return to that lifeless corpse of a snake-bit child I had seen this morning. My duties towards my son are over, and now I must get on with my duties towards the rest of my family. Death is commonplace in this cycle of life. No one is born to live forever. “

The two again looked at each other, and this time decided to keep quiet till the place of the other man’s shop came about. As he was making his way to move into the shop, Venkataraman asked him if he knew of a Khalsapati in Shirdi, and that he was sent by Satyananda Thirtha of Rameshwaram. The guy asked them to get down from the car and took them straight into a butcher’s shop.

“You impudent fool , how dare you ask me to step into a butcher’s? I am a sanyasin, and this is the worst respect you could show one.”

“No sir, I didn’t mean to hurt you sir. But if it meant to, please forgive me. I brought you here not without reason. I am Khalsapati, the only Khalsapati of Shirdi, and Satyananda Thirtha must have sent you to me.”

“What do you mean?” asked a shocked Ramachandran.

“I mean, welcome to the humble abode of Khalsapati. But you must forgive me, I have customers to attend to. I will be back at the earliest.”

Chapter 5

The waiting area outside the ICU ward was crowded. The nurses were finding it hard to send everyone back as the visiting hours were over. The hospital only let one person stay in the hospital overnight. Sivaramakrishnan did the staying. He would also observe the condition of Varalakshmi in the ICU from time to time. Anandavalli spent her days praying in temples, while Srinivasan spent his time ruing his bad karma. The catering service was closed till the situation got any better. Swetha spent her time on the internet researching new methods which could possibly cure her mom. 

Varalakshmi had endured a multiple organ failure due to the excessive bleeding she had endured in the accident. Also, she had gotten her brain damaged, and that didn't augur too well for her, as she was now brain-dead and only a miracle could revive her now. They were hoping for a miracle, but miracles seldom happen to those who are expecting one. The situation wasn't getting any better, and the doctors were losing hope with every passing day. Ramachandran had promised to bring Venkataraman along, but hadn't turned up yet. They all believed that Venkataraman's presence could make the difference for Varalakshmi. 

The family helper, Marudu, brought them food to eat, and also drove them the car from home to hospital whenever the situation demanded it. The house was devastated. No house realizes the worth of the woman in it, till she hits the bed.When that happens, the world goes haywire. Srinivasan used his railway contacts to fish for the best of doctors available in the country, but it worked to no avail for him. The doctors, unanimously had the same thing to say. It would need a miracle for a brain-dead person to possibly even get back to a conscious state again, forget normalcy. While his family was in despair, Venkataraman was busy making his way to Shirdi in Maharashtra. 

Chapter 4

The atmosphere was serene, by far the most calm he had observed in the last two days. He was hoping for an answer here. He was almost sure he would get one. As he entered, he could hear the soulful rendering of bhajans. He had always felt, that while Carnatic musicians, in their form of music, paid more attention to the beauty of the numbers, Hindustani musicians paid more attention to the beauty of the notes, and therefore made their music more soulful. He was always a rasika of bhajans, and these made him sway to the tunes with joy. With a mind in sync with the song, and heart filled with devotion, he was swaying to the tune of the bhajan when he saw a yogi, presumably the guru, the beggar was talking about, in a yogic trance of a kind.

He went up to the yogi, and sat next to his feet. The rudraksha beads were rotating in his fingers. Venkataraman was involved in the Hare Krishna Hare Rama going on around him, when he felt a hand on his head. He turned to see the guru looking at him with the care of a mother. He didn't know why, but when he saw the yogi, he starting sobbing, like a child which sees its mother returning after a long time outside. The yogi then opened his mouth. "Son, Life is a vicious cycle, like you must have already heard many a time. Cry it out, it makes you think clearer, once your sorrows are drowned. Else you will have to drown in and with your sorrows."

Venkataraman then proceeded to tell him about his sanyasa and the news of his wife following it. He told him, about how sanyasa, and the sadhanas associated with it, were more of a dream, and how he wanted to force it upon himself, while the bonds were not severed totally, and the pangs of the heart still hurt him. The yogi understood it, and told him that true sanyasa involved detachment, on a mental level as well. The mind was more powerful than the body, he said, as the latter is just an instrument, which is used by the former to obtain its ways. He also told him about how mental detachment also did not necessarily mean physical detachment, but this was something Venkataraman's mind was not willing to accept. Sanyasa, as he had read and heard, had always been abandoning your everything, and going off to a place of no return. He could not accept a state of mental sanyasa. This question kept lingering on his mind. The yogi, then asked him to meet his guru, Khalsapati, and tell him that Satyananda Thirtha had sent him. The guru will clarify the questions of his mind, he promised.

Chapter 3

Venkataraman had been a staunch Hindu since the time of his growing up. He did not understand much of the logic behind the various rules imposed on the Brahmin society, and so he was not averse to much of his other friends as well. But, he was always careful to follow Brahmin tradition as much as he could. He sincerely felt, that though the logic behind many ideas in the Hindu society of the times was not easily explicable, it definitely did have some meaning, or else his ancestors wouldn't have followed it. Vedanta prescribes four ways of learning how to lead your life, from Pratyaksha (from what we see), Anumana (through inference), Upamana (through comparisons) and Achara (through traditions). He lived all his life as a proponent of the fourth way. Sanyasa was something that he had once contemplated before marriage itself, but after reading somewhere that it was a sin to abandon life with such disdain when he had duties, he decided to get married.

Brahmacharya, Grihastashrama and Vanaprastha were over finally in his eyes. His daughter's marriage was the final duty, and once it was done with, he took a trip away from home, and took up Sanyasa without people at home having the slightest hint of what was happening. He came down to Rameshwaram where his close friend from college, Ramachandran lived. A day before his initiation into Sanyasa he told Ramachandran. The latter pleaded and begged with him to not go on with the plans, but finally had to yield to him. He had always been clear about this plan. Also, he had prepared himself mentally for this jump. But, when Ramachandran had come to tell him about Varalakshmi's accident, he admitted to himself, it did shake him up a bit. After all, breaking away from all life in a minute is not a joke. Also, this had been a lifelong dream. Something he wanted to do, something that would take him on the path to moksha. Why would he screw it up when the opportunity was right in his hands? But, after all, there lay his wife, no, his ex-wife, struggling for her life. A struggle for her life, a struggle between his minds, as he entered the shrine of Lord Ramanathaswamy, for some direction to the mind.

Thirty minutes in the shrine did bring some calm to his mind. As he walked out, there was a beggar outside the main doors of the shrine, who saw him and walked straight upto him. Venkataraman, kind of freaked out initially, and then raised his eyebrows, so as to ask him 'What?'. The beggar, spoke to him, saying that he would get the answers to his questions if he visited the ashram down the road. For some reason, the suggestion appealed to Venkataraman's mind, and he made his way down the road.

Chapter 2

It was one of the usual days in Rameshwaram. Sadhus flocking around from place to place. The various thirthas or wells, where a bath would cleanse one of all sins, were attracting the usual crowds. A busy place, and definitely a place to be in. Not simply would this be called the Kashi of the south. Popular belief was that death in Rameshwaram was a bypass to moksha. So, there were people who came on trips to this place, old-age irrelevant, hoping for death to consume them during their stay here. The children of those unfortunate ones who couldn't die here, would come to conduct their annual ceremonies here. A place associated with death, and with the one who rules even death, Lord Shiva, Rameshwaram was the ideal pilgrimage spot.

Out of the salty sea waters rose a man. Bare-chested, well-built, but definitely on the wiser side of fifty, he tied his hair in the form of a kudumi (shikha), and took two more dips into the water. He then walked out of the water, and said a few chants, as he removed the garlands of tulasi beads around his neck, one by one, and drifted them into the water. He then walked up to the flight of stairs, and changed from his panchagacham veshti into a saffron robe. He then walked back into the river, and chanted a few mantras, as he cut a part of his hair, and drifted that into the water.

Rameshwaram was buzzing with activity, as the man walked right across the stairs, to get a small blade. He walked back into the water, and took some vibhuthi in his hands. He rubbed the palms against one another and now smeared the vibhuthi all across his body.Then he took the blade in his hand, and in one motion, cut the sacred thread. With a lifting of the hands, and the chant of Om Namah Sivayah, he let it drift into the water too. With just the saffron robe on his body, and the smear of ash on his forhead, he walked back towards the temple, when he heard a familiar voice calling. "Ramanna Ramanna, Lakshmi manni got hit by a tanker lorry. She is in the Apollo. Please come back." He turned back, and said " A true Sanyasin knows no family". Saying this, Venkataraman walked back towards the temple. 

Chapter 1

It was the Brahmamuhurtham. Four-thirty in the morning, during the month of Margazhi had become commonplace at the Venkataramans. The mama of the house, Mr.Srinivasan, Retd.Dty.General Manager, South East Railways, he liked to emphasise the second half every time he introduced himself, Venkataraman's dad, woke up at 4.00, a habit from his working days. He was the typical "Tam-brahm" mama, his radio woke up with him, to belt out Mudakaratha Modakam, Kandha Sashti Kavacham and Vishnu Sahasranamam in the divine voice of M.S.Subbulakshmi. A bath, and sandhyavandhanam later, he would be sipping on his morning coffee, grown in Coorg, brewed in Chennai, but he still preferred calling the Kumbakonam degree coffee. His wife, Anandavalli mami, was his secretary for all practical purposes, and also the man-who-run-the-house. Coming from a humble background, she was soft-spoken, and a very timid creature, till she learnt the ropes of life from her mother-in-law, Srinivasan's mother, the late Letchumi paati.

Srinivasan and Anandavalli were living with his only son Venkataraman and his family, for the last twenty eight years. Venkataraman was an engineer by profession, but like most engineers of his generation, he was into business. He realized the potential of a catering business early in his career, and they started a mess. His wife Varalakshmi, an amazing cook, and his mother ran the kitchen, while Venkataraman went around delivering the orders they received. He had got his daughter Swetha married a week back. She had fallen in love with her classmate while doing her M.S at the U.S. Like any other Iyer father, his first concern was if the boy was an Iyer.When his name was revealed to be Sivaramakrishnan, fears evaporated, and his horoscope was demanded. Though initially Swetha refused to have her horoscope checked for compatibility, she realized she didn't have a way out. Luckily for her, not only did they have astha-porutham (8 agreements on 9), Sivaramakrishnan was also Vadama (an Iyer sub-sect), and so Venkataraman was only over-joyed to give his daughter away in marriage to the boy.

Margazhi was a busy month for the Venkataramans since catering began early in the morning. The madisaar-clad Varalakshmi would start off with making the kolam outside the front gate of the house. This would be followed by the cooking. Venkataraman was away for a week, and Varalakshmi took up the double work of delivering stuff after the cooking was over. But, today, something wasn't feeling right at home. Last evening, a glass tumbler had broken at home, and glass breaking on Friday evenings was considered inauspicious in a Brahmin household. A disturbed Varalakshmi was driving her way to the customer's place when she swooned and lost control of her vehicle. She did not see the tanker lorry coming.