There are many a devil!

Chicago

There were some informal meetings by the sidelines of the parliament. This meeting at Kina’s was one such meeting. Kina’s was an upmarket restaurant at Chicago – often frequented by the who’s who of the country. Today, the dinner meeting was between Father Carlo of Brazil, Priest Osman of Somalia and  Tsang Hui of China.

“It is important that righteousness rules – whatever way it might.” Osman explained as the others heard with apt attention. “In my country, the masses are with me and I guide them on the right path. The prince cannot question me either. In fact he treads his path as I advice him.” There seemed a touch of pride in his voice. He had his head held high. “My writ rules in not only Somalia, but also Sudan and Kenya. People accept me as their spiritual master and listen to me. Narayanaswami talks about the congress of forces of the good, but his influence in his own nation is  limited – he heads an international sect, that’s fine – and a rich one at it, but what about the power? We need to establish a religious and righteous rule in the world to make it livable.

“ It is impossible in my country Osman.” Carlo replied. “I might have people listening to me, but I can’t extend my influence on  the government to make religious laws. Moreover people are happy.”

“Happy?” Osman replied. “There are two forces in this world. Good and evil. Whatever we do, either makes the god happy or the devil. People don’t count in this Carlo.” His voice became stern. “What matters is that on what side you are?” He looked straight into his eyes. “Remember what O’Donnell said today morning – we need to put limits.”

In the background, sat Lui - listening to the conversation. He haad always wanted to make it big and change the future of people – everything that Osman said felt like making sense. There were people in his nation, and there was power and there was a huge gap between the two. He could easily function as a power broker – he only needed to tread cautiously. Just as he was in a deep thought, Osman called on Freidricho – the chief of the shadow government at Rio.

“Hello Mr. Freidricho, Salam wa’alaikum. Al Osman Al Hameed from the Somalian mosque.”

“Hello Mr. Osman.” Came back the reply. “It’s been a long time since I heard from you. As we had promised you in last elections, we are garnishing support for implementation of religious laws and special previlages for the two million Muslims in Brazil. We welcome your support for upliftment of the community in our country.”

“So  kind of you, Mr. Freidricho.” Osman answered in a pleasant tone. “God willing, you would be the next head of the state. Today, however I have called you for another favour. Favour, as it would be, not only to me and you, but also to the almighty.”

“Go ahead Mr. Osman.” Came the reply.

“I have a good friend in Father Carlo from Rio, who shares my thoughts in the matters of religion.  I hope you would visit him and have a chat. I feel we can work really well together.”

“Oh, that would be a pleasure.” Friedricho replied. “I would definitely visit him once he returns.”

They exchanged some pleasantries before Osman haung up.

Carlo looked at him with disbelief. There was a smile on Lui’s face. 

  _______________________________________________________

Narayanaswami was in a governing body meeting when he got a call from India. It was his deputy Priyavrat.

“Guruji, there is going to be a new development soon.” Priyavrat said.

“What’s it?” Narayanaswami said in a rather uninterested tone.    

“The government is about to announce a tax on milk other than that given to the government stores for distribution. The food and agriculture minister has said that the regulatory mechanisms for checking the purity and quality of milk are quite expensive for which the companies must pay. They have tried to garner support for this since a long time. Their reason is that the companies and people can give the milk in government deposits and take optimum benefits. They allege that private firms are making milk an expensive commodity for their own benefits. They have also found out that the private firms are either overproducing as  is against the Cow Protection act of India and Prevention of cruelty against animals act of India, or not showing the number of cattle they possess.”

Narayanaswami’s eyes widened.

“Priyavrat, note down. Ask these questions to the government. First, would the cost reduce if the same amount of milk is being checked in government dairies? Second, the net amount of milk would remain the same in the market. People would not give milk to the government, and increase the cost of milk, for which the public would have to pay. Third, the government is more concerned with its own benefit rather than benefit of the people.”

He smiled as he disconnected the call. This might prove a turning point in his career. He smiled.

Mountains of the East!

With Shankara at Rishikesh

They sat on the stairs at the ghat of Ganga at Paramarth Niketan, overlooking the ancient Statue of Shiva as it sat on the island in the middle of swiftly flowing Ganga.

“She starts from his locks, and yet years back she devoured him in her tides.” Shankara told Burak, pointing to the Ganga.

He then shifted his gaze at the starry sky above him. “That is the Orion – from where it all started.” He spoke t6o Burak.

“What all?” Burak asked, confused.

“All this around you, whatever you have seen.” Shankara answered.

“I don’t understand.” Burak said.

“The very life that we see now.”  Shankara answered.

“In times immemorial, before the prehistoric, before any human being ever roamed on the face of the earth, there was a cosmic battle. It occurred in the belt of the Hunter as we see it from here.” Shankara pointed towards the Orion. “There lies a higher world there to which we all belong –where we all go after our life – to be born again. That is our seed.”

“Ages back, when ice covered the earth; the vanquished of the war were exiled from the Orion to find their own world. The sages who protected them lived across the skies – headed by the seven most gracious ones. The vanquished approached those sages with a request for refuge. The sages however had another purpose to fulfill. They gave refuge, but on condition that they would leave in two years for the earth. The sages taught them the art of travelling at a speed higher than that of the light – with the speed of mind.

After two years the sages set them off for their new abode. When they reached here, they mixed up with the native life forms to acqire a body, as they were originally, mind bon, as all the cosmic beings. They formed a new species – Homo sapiens.

Some of them went to a higher world and built civilization higher than Orion.  

The seven sages are still our guardian angels who watch us from that dark space between the seven stars. The ones who control the Orion still look for victory and glory – both on earth and the higher planet. They are all mind – bodied except the beings of the earth, therefore their realm of control is mind and the senses. They repeatedly aim at controlling the human minds. That is their battleground.”

“The almighty from whose golden egg everything develops and who holds the world in the balance of his mind intervenes in this game of mind every now and then and enters the realms of the mind to balance out the opposing side whenever one side becomes heavy. The cosmic play continues in many millions of such creations all the time. We think about right and wrong, good and evil; but in reality none of this exists – it is just opposing side of the axis – which has to exist for the very existence of the other side. We are just the pawns in this game of dice, where the turn of the dice decides how much we would move – the only difference is that we have a freedom in deciding the speed of our movement and how high we would jump.”

“Whatever you say seems to make sense.” Burak  said.” But somehow, the brain tells me not to believe in it.”

Shankara smiled, “you have travelled all your life alone, haven’t you?” He asked.

Burak nodded.

“Yes.” He remarked. “It all ended in Mecca.”

“You saw me there?” Shankara asked.

Burak exhibited a sense of mild shock, more than he actually felt there. How does he know?

“You saw many other people there, isn’t it?” Shankara continued. “You were even instructed to go to the eastern mountains.”

Burak nodded silently.

“Look to the north Burak.” Shankara pointed to the snow covered peaks on the horizon. As Burak turned to have a look, Shankara completed his sentence. “Those are the mountains that you were ordained for.”

Burak took a deep sigh. He raised up from the ghat where he sat.  The water of the Ganges made a sweet music in the background. He looked towards the majestic mountains on the north  and their snow covered peaks. He never thought that the fate would take him this far. He looked back. He was talking to a kafir priest. He did not know what was going on, but there was something that was inviting him to the wilderness beyond Rishikesh. Was the seer to be his guide in this journey?

The Transatlantic Meet

The World Parliament of Religions

Chicago, the Central Territories of America

“If there is something that can save the world from its present state of degradation,” he paused for a while and let the words imbibe into the teaming millions who were present there to hear the inaugural address before he resumed, “it is synthesis.”

“We must talk. We must share. We must evolve. We must do it for our future.” He spoke with several pauses as the audience heard aptly. “Our neighbors in east and west have aligned themselves in a way principally different from us. Though, this is not a political platform, but I bring this in because we have a spiritual connection between us. When we in the central territories were talking about a spiritual consensus, our neighbors in the east were talking about a single American identity. This they might have achieved in the area they govern, but, see how flawed their completeness looks with its homogeneity. People are diverse. You cannot ask them to reshape and live, prey and die in the same way. In our west , however, they have given a complete freedom to materialists. They have turned to be like feudal lords. The personal independence should not be so overemphasized that it turns the society into a utilitarian system.” Michael O’Donnell was the Supreme commander of the CTA. A ‘democratic tyrant’ as the world called him. His country saw elections every four years, but the ministry that was elected had to work under his government, and perhaps he had a veto power. He promoted liberal thinking ‘within limits’ that he decided. A seventy years old man – he was running the government since he was thirty. He inherited the throne from his godfather Richard Houston after the latter’s death .As he spoke the finishing line of the inaugural session, people rose at their places, as was the custom and gave a standing applause to the commander. “With such a world in my mind I wish the president elect of the congress His holiness Mr. Narayanaswami, also the head of the Vidyapanthi sect for the success of the programs. With these words I declare the 564^th World Parliament of Religions at Chicago open.”

The board of governors of the parliament thanked the supreme commander and felicitated him before he left. The addresses and the agenda for the meeting followed.

Narayanaswami who was the present president elect was a relatively new face. He emerged two years back from the oblivion and rose to glory. Thousands of people from all walks of life came to him, just as they did to his guru –the late Rajendrananda. He headed the board of governors that comprised of the most influential religious men in the world of all the religions - a body that the world saw with respect in this era of the dying light. His story of rise to fame and glory, however, no one knew. Just as this man rose to speak amidst thunderous applause, another gracious man was rising from his humble bed as the dawn broke around the globe in India.

The Murder of A Saint

Next Day

Travelling through the Deccan on the coach to Rishikesh

After a discourse to Kalia’s pupil, Madhavendra asked Burak and Kalia to follow him to his compartment.

“I had an old friend at Rishikesh. His name was Rajendra – a gem of a man. People would throng him in thousands and he would relieve their worldly agonies while himself being engaged in realms outside of this material existence.” Shankara started. “He had a favorite disciple – a man who would go to any extent for his worldly gains through the way of unworldly pursuits. He rules the world today.”

“In his hijack of the forces of good, he has joined hands with the ones who share his greed. The multitude of go getters who have crushed many a blooming lives to make their  way up to nowhere. The farther they go, the farther go the horizons and the farther goes their insatiable greed. They have become heroes, role models and masters of the earth. They sow the seeds of sin on the earth and reap the harvest of evil, which grows in magnitude – consuming this very earth, until one day living would become impossible on the earth.” The seer had a grave face.“What they don’t know is that they would be gone in a flash. Apamnapat who resides in the water filled clouds waits to devour them and rain the fresh waters in which he hides.”

“Who is he my lord?” Professor asked the seer.

“His name is Ajay. Born in a small hamlet in near Mathura – he was a son of a simple farmer. It was broad daylight in Mathura when he was born, and suddenly it began to rain without clouds. There was a tumultuous uproar as dogs, cats and jackals howled and the birds of prey gathered in the sky and flew in circles. The whole district of Mathura was flooded in this unseasonal rainfall. He tore his mother’s womb and killed her while coming out. His father’s crops failed that year. As he grew up, he would eat all the food in his poor household, leaving his elder and doting brothers hungry.  A bane on the family, his black shadow loomed on the whole village as the rodents and locusts infested the crop and cattle died of mysterious illness. It was at such a time that Rajendrananda arrived in the village. He saw the  agony of the villagers and found out the cause. It was the boy. He took the boy with him and raised him up as his own son, transforming him by the power of his prayers into a positive soul – or at least so he felt. The boy was to become the cause of his death in the time to come. Ajay put up a show of humbleness and righteousness in front of his master so that he became his favorite pupil. One day when Rajendra went up in a mountain cave with a year’s vow ofnot standing up from meditation and eating just once in two days, he appointed Ajay as his sole caretaker who would be the only person to have an access to him. His duty was to bring food to him. For four months he did his duty religiously. By then, he had also taken up the duties of his master as the head of the hermitage. He felt the taste of the position of power and prestige for the first time. People, rich and poor, powerful and impoverished all came to him alike. Moreover, he saw people giving him expensive gifts and the money flowing in. ‘What would happen once his master returns’ he thought. ‘All the privilages would be taken away from him and he would have to hold a subsidiary position again.’ This is when he stopped feeding his master. Rajendra would wait for food for five minutes every second day, while Ajay took the food from the hermitage and threw it away in the stream by the hillside. Within two months Rajendra fell ill.

Ajay reported at the hermitage that the guru was not opening his eyes for food. When Rajendra last met him, he told him that he does not want anyone to meet him. One day, when Rajendra decided to end his fast, he rose up with great difficulty to find Ajay standing by the hillside.

“Why don’t you get me the food?” He called out to him in an annoyed voice.

Ajay just laughed in surprise. “ You have risen father?” He said. “ this is not right. You shouldn’t break your vow. He approached a weakened Rajendra and gently pushed him along the hillside in the stream. The ascetic died of the fall and asphyxia. The seat was permanently taken by Ajay, who now named himself Narayanaswami. He heads a religious sect now and is lately chairing the world parliament of religions in America.”

Shankara continued, “ The board of governors at the parliament of religions is filled with such demons disguised in the veil of holy men. All of them are ready with a shovel in their hands – ready to dig the grave of humankind forever.” Shankara’s voice was furious. “They are the governors of the shovel of the doomsday.”

“What he doesn’t know however is that, the day he killed his master, he gave birth to his destruction. Rajendra’s soul was sucked into the sky with the streams water by Apamnapat – who lives as lightening in the rain clouds- the one who will bring about his destruction.”

The Language of God!

The Kamakoti Peetam

Kanchipuram, India

Madhavendra Saraswati was the Shankaracharya of Kanchi – the one who bore the light of the Adi Shankara down the ages from eighth century. He was the closest parallelism to the catholic pope in Vedantic branch of Hinduism yet, he couldn’t have been more different from the pope. His home was an ancient one room apartment at the Kanchi Math and his belongings were a floor rug made of dried twigs, an earthen tumbler, a stick that went well over his head and a sac full of clothes and daily needs. For clothes, he wore a loincloth and an angavastram. For one hour a day, he would sew clothes for the deities with his own hands which were sold in market and for which he was paid five rupees a day. For one hour, he would oversee the accounts of the instiution, for which he was paid ten rupees a day. His third duty was taking care of two cows at the Gaushala cowshed in which, he spent two hours a day. He was paid twenty rupees for this task. In addition, he performed daily pujas at the temple for two hours, met people for one hour and taught Vedas to the students for one hour. For this, he was provided a luxury of free stay and conveyance. For the rest of day, he would be allowed to spend time on his personal wish. He would usually read, meditate, sleep or do his daily chores in this time. He was given fifty days of paid leave in a year when he could make journeys. On his excursions, he was allowed three staff –a driver, an umbrella man and a flag bearer, who bore his flag with the Sanskrit epitaph : ‘Dharmorakshati rakshita’ – protected righteousness protects.

Shankara sat in his room on the straw mat with his legs folded in lotus posture ready to receive people who had come from around the world to meet him. “There is a teacher with a group of students.” He said to his attendant. “Tell him that I only want to meet him with the student who comes from deserts of the west. Rest of them, I will meet tomorrow.”

It was the second day of Prof. Kalia’s sabbatical with his students. As he waited outside the seer’s room for a hearing, the attendant announced –“A teacher who comes with a student from the deserts of the west.”

Kalia gestured Burak to move in. He told rest of the students to wait.

As Burak entered the room, he was astonished. He saw that the seer with an unintelligible name, who he was told was also called Shakara of Kanchi, and whom for the ease of conversation, they had all shortened to Kanchi was a face that looked so familiar, that he was in a dilemma as to where he had seen him.

Madhavendra Saraswati saw the look om Burak’s face. He smiled and asked them to sit. As they sat,  the seer rose up and approached Burak and touched his head as he said, “I’ll solve your problems.”

As he touched him, he saw flashes of the past in his mind.  He saw his circumambulation of the Ka’aba turn into a garden with people walking with him. In a flash, he saw the seer pass him with a group of people following him. As he chanted, he turned around and smiled at him, before vanishing into a milky white light.

Burak’s eyes widened. He saw the seer smiling before him. He couldn’t speak anything.

By now Kanchi had moved on to Kalia. “ I am leaving on vacations tomorrow for Rishikesh. You can accompany me with your group.  I shall make the arrangements for you if you say. It is an unanticipated leave.”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the seer spoke before him, “come you must.”

 Kalia closed his mouth. He had nothing left to say. It would be difficult to re-plan everything, especially since the students were there with him, but he would have to do it anyways.

Burak looked around him. This place was completely strange for him. It was getting chokingly fragrant –all his senses were awakened. However his sixth sense knew another thing – it was the time for his evening prayers.

Shankara understood what was in Burak’s mind and asked Kalia mildly, “I want to talk to your student alone.” Kalia bowed and left the room.  He dispersed the attendant thereafter.

“We will do the oblations before the prayers Burak.” He said as he offered him water.

As burak started his prayers, he felt his surroundings change once again. Madhavendra was by his side, praying with him – his attire miraculously changed. After he finished, Burak turned toward the seer and saw him sitting in meditation. 

He was outraged.

“What was all that?” he barked.

“I was just praying along with you.” The seer answered.

“You were praying my way.” Burak said.

“I don’t even know a word  of the language you were speaking.” Shankara smiled. “If you saw something, maybe it was an indication from the god that he sees all the prayers the same.”

Shankara was smiling at him all the time. “Our time is over, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning now.” He said calmly.

Burak stormed out of the room in disbelief.