Triveni Journal
1927 | 11,233,916 words
Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....
BY KAPILESWAR DAS, M.A.
It is said in the Sruti: What we worship and meditate upon, we become. And the Absolute is revealed in worship and meditation from whatever angle of vision we start–though in most cases only partly. As Pushpadanta sings in his famous Hymn to Glory (Mahimna), the Vedas, the Sankhya, the Yoga, the Pasupata and the Vaishnava speak of various ways, and each speaks of a particular way as desirable and ultimate; human-beings follow these paths, straight or crooked, each according to his predilections; but all go to the same destination, as all rivers flow into the ocean. The absolute, the ever-existing all-comprehension, meets us at every point. We see differently and we call differently; but the response is sure to come. As does one and the same house-holder, called by different names in the family by different persons, father by his children, master by his servants, husband by his wife, son by his parents and brother by his brothers and sisters, respond to all, and act in each capacity, so does God. He gives food to the starved as Annapurna, saves another from great danger as Chandi, Tara or Durga, and gives wealth, honour, power and prosperity as Indra, Agni or Aswinikumara. The embodied invokes the Infinite in various ways and methods suitable to one’s samskaras, psychic development and the end in view. Thus is embedded in human nature the attitude of calling on God through personification. Though these personifications may be as many as there are persons, our devotional literature has mainly recognised, and is developed through, six fundamental bhavas or relations of personified devotion–to adore God as master (Dasya), as child (Vatchalya), as friend (Sakhya), as the beloved (Madhura), as intoxication (Unmada) and as peace (Shanta).
These six bhavas have become classical in our devotional scriptures, and much literature has been produced thereon. The garment of medieval Indian life seems especially to be richly woven with the fabric of this devotional expression. Hundreds of saintly souls, following in the wake of Nanak, Kabir, Ramdas, Tukaram and Chaitanya, whose food was God’s love and whole spirits were suffused with God’s glory, have sung in mellifluous cadences of the relation of God and Man. We cannot do better than give a few illustrations here for the elucidation of these bhavas.
Dasya, or the feeling of service to God, is the first natural expression of humanity. The glory of God puts to shame the frail vanity of man. He feels abashed and humbled in the presense of the immeasurable vast, the mysterious deep. He forgets his superiority, stoops at the feet of the Great Master, and feels it a proud privilege to be called upon to serve Him, or to sing His name and glory, in however insignificant a manner. Hanuman is the classical example of this bhava.Deena Krishna, the devotional poet of Utkal, sings:
"At whose feet the four Vargas attend,
At whose beck and call the lightning flashes,
Whose kind glance dissolves the world’s sorrow,
His servant am I, a poor beggar.
Leaving everything, I took shelter at His feet.
He leaves me, and I am sinking in misery."
Vatchalya is the parent’s affectionate attitude towards the child. Indeed, there is something divine in the innocence, sweetness and gentility of a child, which seem to unlock the gates of heaven. Jesus taught humanity to be simple as a child, Wordsworth sang of the child who comes direct from God ‘trailing clouds of glory.’ And there is something in the grown up mind of a parent, depressed and broken by worldly calamities, which follows the smile, the frolic and the babble of the child, that is suggestive of the never-dying hope of man in self-continuance through the link that is heritage and tradition, and his utter disbelief in annihilation. It is said in the Sruti:"One’s soul is reflected in, and is reborn as, one’s son." Tyagaraja, the saint poet of the South, sings in this bhava:
"O mind, meditate on Rama, glory unto Rama!
To kiss his blooming cheeks how much penance
Did Kausalya perform, I do not know;
To make him follow him how much penance
Did Kausika perform, I do not know;
To give his daughter to him how much penance
Did Janaka perform, I do not know;
To sing his name how much penance
Did Narada perform, I do not know."
Another song in the same strain:
"Krishna, do not run away:
Everywhere you are, but nowhere to be caught:
So much maya where did you learn?"
Then comes the bhava of Sakhya or friendship. The first phase of worship in fear and dismay is gone. The fondling of the parent, however full of emotion, is given up as dotage. Through development the devotee has acquired a greater equality of position, and takes God as his friend, philosopher and guide. God takes delight in giving him timely counsel, leads him through the vicissitudes of life, rousing him from despair and solacing him in depression, and calls him up to the Ultimate. A Bengali song in this bhava reads:
"O friend, take me by the hand, lead me;
I do not know the way.
From today you are enthroned in my heart,
I shall adore you–none else."
A Maharastra song in the same strain:
"O friend of the Devas, their supporter,
Fulfiller of needy humanity’s desire,
Give me shelter; take me unto Thee."
Then follows the more complex feeling of love, Madhura. It is the relation of the lover and the beloved, with all its mystic depth, intensity of sentiment, its pangs of separation, its eagerness for union, and the desolate loneliness one feels without the other. Mira Bai, the well-known devotee of Hindusthan, sings:
"Giridhar Gopal is mine, none else’s:
With a flood of tears I have made a river of love;
Eternally it flows and washes the feet of my beloved."
A Bengali song in the same strain runs thus:
"Beloved! I am pining, where are you?
I am sick of separation, my heart wails.
The vision of union came in a dream,
And vanished into the land of sleep;
The lightning faded into the cloud, my heart is dark.
I was alone: why did you steer
The barge of my life to the other shore?
Why did you play the game of death
With my life, and laugh, O cruel one?
Flushed with the roseate hue of dawn,
You stood like an angel in the sky:
With the first flush of love in my heart
You vanished, a deceitful one!"
Then follows the mental attitude of intoxication, wherein the devotee in divine madness is so determined to keep his hold on God that he even directly accuses Him of harshness and indifference. But at the same time the deep pathos of his despair, in not obtaining God’s mercy in spite of earnest soliciting, is present as an under-current. Deena Krishna, whom we quoted before, sings beautifully thus:
"You are the ocean of mercy, I am unfortunate.
I wonder why you have not pitied me.
If you so desired, why did you not hate me before?
Why am I, of all men, down-trodden?
If you, the preserver of the world, are unjust,
Then who can appeal to whom?
Though you repulse, I have none else to go to.
As the moon is to the chakora bird,
The cloud to the chataka, water to the fish,
So are you to me.
To die is happy, living is sad."
In course of time this fit of intoxication ceases. It is like the fermentation of liquor which leaves the liquid clear, or like the storm which leads to perfect quiet. The devotee is then left serene to meditate on the everlasting peace, without a tinge of selfishness or a desire for returns. This state is identical with that of the wise or the Nishkama Bhakta, the state of intense devotion or Parabhakti. No jarring note disturbs the perfect silence. Deep peace prevails.