FORETASTE OF LIFE DIVINE

We have followed Saradamani Devi at Jayrambati up to her eleventh year. In the meantime an important event occurred to which we have now to revert.

Sri Ramakrishna’s nephew Hridayaram Mukherji lived at Shihar, and the Master often went there. In the same village lived the maternal uncles of the Holy Mother. Besides, Shihar had the distinction of possessing a stone temple, built after old architectural patterns and dedicated to Siva under the name Shantinatha. The annual celebrations attracted the villagers from far and near who came to hear kirtana music or to witness open air country theaters called yatra. During one such kirtana at Hridaya’s house a strange thing happened. Sarada Devi, then a mere child, sat in the lap of a woman who asked her in merriment, after the kirtana, ‘Whom among the great number of people assembled here would you like to marry?’ Sarada Devi at once lifted her two tiny hands and pointed to Sri Ramakrishna sitting not far away. At that time she had no idea of what matrimony was; but the unseen power that guided those little hands saw to the fulfilment of the wishes of that unerring heart.

The Mother had then completed her fifth year and entered the sixth; and there at Dakshineswar Sri Ramakrishna, then completing his twenty-third year, was caught in the maelstrom of a spiritual fervour preparatory to the formulation and articulation of his special message for the age. Ignorant people then thought that he had been swept off his moorings and had lost his head. When exaggerated stories of his strange behaviour reached his mother Chandramani Devi at Kamarpukur, the venerable old lady who had hardly got over the shock of losing her eldest son Ramkumar,1 had Ramakrishna brought home and had witch-doctors engaged for curing him of his malady. But although medicines and medicine-men failed, Sri Ramakrishna became a little composed owing perhaps to the repeated spiritual visions that were vouchsafed to him at this time. Chandramani Devi was a little reassured thereby; but along with others she diagnosed the cause of the disease to be his apathy to worldly matters. And so with the help of her elder son Rameshwar, she set about searching for a bride for him; but their efforts were of no avail. At last Sri Ramakrishna came to know of this and, strangely enough, he evinced no rebellious distemper, but rather said with boyish acquiescence and gaiety, ‘Go and find the bride

marked out with a straw1 in Ramchandra Mukherji’s house at Jayrambati.’ Following this meaningful hint the bride was soon found out, and the wedding day was fixed for a suitable date in early May, 1859. On the appointed day Rameshwar went with his brother to Jayrambati and the marriage was duly celebrated.

With regard to her marriage1 the Holy Mother said, ‘I was married when the dates ripen. When I went to Kamarpukur within ten days, I picked up dates there. Dharmadas Laha (the landlord of the village) came and said, “ Is this the newly married girl?” Surya’s father (her uncle Iswar Mukherji) carried me to Kamarpukur in his arms.’ On the evening after the day of marriage, the groom’s party returned to Kamarpukur with the married couple. When they reached there, Chandramani Devi welcomed them home with due ceremonies. The marriage celebration ended with some minor domestic observances and feeding of relatives as a matter of form, on a small scale, for, the poor Chatterjis could not afford to have anything big. Hardly were these over when a sad thought began to oppress Chandra Devi. The Chatterjis paid three hundred rupees as bridal money; moreover, decency and honour demanded that the bride should be duly adorned, for which purpose Chandra Devi took on loan some ornaments from the Lahas, the village landlords. These had now to be returned; and yet Chandra Devi could not think of depriving the person of such a lovable and guileless child as Sarada. Sri Ramakrishna understood his mother’s difficulty and assured her that during the little wife’s sleep, he would imperceptibly remove the ornaments. This he did so deftly that Sarada Devi could not perceive anything. But next morning when she found her body unadorned, she said pointing to her various limbs, ‘Where are the ornaments gone that were here and here?’ Chandra Devi was moved to tears by these simple words of the child, and placing her on her lap consoled her saying, ‘My darling, Gadai (meaning Ramakrishna) will give you better ornaments in future.’ The girl was consoled somewhat by this, but her uncle who came the next day became infuriated and carried her back to Jayrambati.

This time Sri Ramakrishna stayed at home for more than two years. Some two years after his marriage, he once went to his father-in-law’s house. About this visit the Mother said, * When I was seven years old, the Master came to Jayrambati. You know that a married couple go together for a second time to the groom’s house. He told me then, “ If anyone asks you when you were married, say that you were married at the age of five. Don’t say seven.”’ The Master perhaps warned her thus, lest she should think of this second visit together to Kamarpukur as the marriage itself. The Mother also remembered that the Master’s nephew Hridaya, too, came with him and the latter searched out his little aunt and worshipped her feet despite her shyness. Sarada Devi’s thoughts were still immature; and yet, without being instructed by anybody, she washed the Master’s feet and fanned him, which added to the mirth of the people around. From Jayrambati the Master went to Kamarpukur with Sarada; and not long after, he returned to Dakshineswar to dive headlong into the sea of austerities for the realization of God. Sarada, too, came to Jayrambati and resumed her life under the tender care of her mother in the midst of rural beauty and simplicity.

Her third and fourth visits to Kamarpukur were when she was thirteen and fourteen years old. The Master was then at Dakshineswar, where also lived Chandra Devi, his mother. At Kamarpukur the Mother found Rameshwar and his wife and other relatives. Some five or six months intervened between these two visits. During the second visit she stayed at Kamarpukur for a month and a half. After that she spent about three or four months at Jayrambati till in 1867 news reached there that the Master had come home with Hridaya and Bhairavi Brahmani (the lady who guided him in his Tantrika spiritual practices), so that it became necessary for her to go there. The Mother went and lived there with the Master for seven months.

This long stay amidst the quiet natural beauty and healthy surroundings of Kamarpukur improved the shattered health of the Master, and he returned to Dakshineswar with fresh vigour and drowned himself again in spiritual striving. When calm prevailed again, he resumed his visits to his native village, spending the rainy season there every year up till 1880, in accordance with the advice of physicians who condemned that season at Dakshineswar as too bad for his delicate health, undermined as it had been by long and strenuous disciplines. It is no longer possible to ascertain how many times the Mother went to Kamarpukur or what happened there during this long period from 1867 to 1880. Moreover, it is impossible to determine the exact dates of the few incidents that were related of this period by the Mother and others. Hence we shall relate some of these without any attempt at chronological sequence, and then we shall return to the anecdotes of the Bhairavi Brahmani.

The devotees heard from the Mother of a supernatural incident that happened to her when she was at Kamarpukur at the age of thirteen. Just behind the Master’s house was a village road to which a backdoor opened for the use of women. Farther away lay the big Haldar-pukur (the tank of the Haldars) to which they went for bathing and for fetching water. The way lay across the village road and near some houses. In those days women, particularly young women of high caste families, were not allowed to move about freely, so that for the Mother who was shy by nature, it was a problem to traverse this distance alone. Stepping out of the backdoor she mused, ‘I am a newly married young woman; how can I go alone for my bath ?’ As she stood perplexed, she saw eight girls approach her. So she stepped on to the road. Four of those girls walked in front of her, and four behind. Thus they all went to the tank and had their dip; and then they returned in the same manner. This happened during the whole time that the Mother was there. The thought often crossed her mind, ‘Who are these girls who come every day at the time of bath?’ But she could not make out anything, nor did she ever ask them who they were.1

We have already spoken of the Mother’s keenness for study during the Jayrambati days, notwithstanding poverty and pressing duties. And we have to remember that in those days even well-to-do families did not think in terms of high academic attainments for their daughters. Sarada Devi’s efforts thus bespeak of a wonderful enthusiasm for learning, which was kept up even in the more adverse circumstances while she was in her father-in-law’s family. ‘At Kamarpukur,’ said the Holy Mother,

‘Lakshmi2 and myself used to read the first primer a little. Nephew Hridaya snatched away my book saying, “ Women should not learn to read and write; will you ultimately turn to reading novels and dramas?” Lakshmi did not part with her book, for being a daughter of the family she clung to it with determination. I secured another copy secretly for one anna. Lakshmi learnt her lessons at the village school and then taught me.’ In passing, we may refer to the Mother’s reminiscence to show that this ardour lasted even into her youth. ‘I got real education,’ said she, ‘at Dakshineswar. The Master was then at Shyampukur for treatment; and I was absolutely alone. A girl of the family of Bhava Mukherji came to bathe there. She stayed long and often with me. Every day as she came for bath, she imparted

lessons and tested me at them.3 I gave her plenty of greens, vegetables, etc., which came here to me from the (temple) garden.’ As a result of this education the Mother could read such books as the Ramayana (Story of Rama), but she could not write much; and at the end of her life she could not even sign her name. In later days a disciple wanted to have an autograph from her, and she agreed to it in a way. But in a vain attempt to sign her name she scrawled and scrawled, and then, failing to produce anything readable, gave up the attempt.

In all references in her talks to the Kamarpukur family there was a genuine ring of love and respect for her mother-in-law and father-in-law. With regard to the latter she said with pride, ‘The father-in-law I had was a spirited and orthodox Brahmin. He would not accept gifts indiscriminately. There was a standing order to refuse anything even though it might be brought to the house. As for my mother-in-law, however, if anybody brought anything to her secretly, she would accept it and then cook and offer it to Raghuvira (Ramachandra, the family deity), and distribute the prasada (sanctified food) to all. My father-in-law became very angry if he happened to learn of it. But he had a fiery devotion. Mother Shitala (another family deity) ever moved with him. He used to go out plucking flowers long before the day dawned. One day, as he entered the garden of the Lahas, a girl of nine said, “ Father, come this side; the branch this side has plenty of flowers. Well, I shall hold it down and you can pluck them.” He inquired, “ Who are you, my child, here at this time? ” And she replied, “ It is I, I of this Haldar house.’” It is just because he was of this nature that God (the Master) was born in his house.’ Sarada Devi served her mother-in-law like a dutiful daughter, and during that service learnt many anecdotes of the Chatterji family, as also about its various ups and downs. Thus equipped, she contrasted one day the orthodoxy of her father-in-law, of which she came to know when rubbing oil on the back of her mother-in-law, with the liberality of the Master and remarked with a smile, ‘The Master was born in such a strict family, and yet he became the priest of a Kaivarta1 (i.e. Rani Rasmani)!’

During the stay at Kamarpukur, the Mother made perfect what she had learnt earlier about swimming, singing, sewing, embroidery, and cooking.

Village girls in those days did not get any training either in these and allied arts, or in cultural subjects in general. They picked up what they could by themselves, and the social set-up was eminently fitted for such self-education. There were the Bauls (a class of mendicants) and beggars who sang from door to door many songs of the highest religious import, and dramas on mythological subjects were frequently staged, through which rural people had their spiritual edification and temporal enlightenment. Many such factors contributed to the early education of the Mother. But the finishing touches came from the Master himself. Her talks with the disciples in later days bore the unmistakable imprint of such a simple but efficient training and the contact of a great personality during the most impressionable and formative period of her life.

When the Mother came to Kamarpukur, the Master began teaching her many things—both temporal and spiritual. He first conquered the heart of the girl through love and then poured into it all that he had learnt through long experience. On the one hand he held before her an integrated life made impeccable through the influence of the renunciation of all thoughts of enjoyment, and he trained her step by step in reaching that glorious pinnacle through a steady moulding of character and heightening of aspiration; and on the other hand he taught her how to perform the daily duties, to serve the deities, the Brahmins, and the guests, to be respectful to superiors, affectionate to the younger members of the family, and in everyway serviceable to the family as a whole. And by basing his instruction on the common sense view of adaptability according to time, place, and person, he taught her how to deal with others, whether within the family or outside it, how to be careful when getting into or out of a conveyance so that nothing might be left behind; and even such petty matters as trimming lamps, spicing curries, preparing betel rolls, were not left out of that comprehensive and wonderful curriculum. The feeling of elation that Sarada Devi, simple, pure, spiritually-minded and full of faith as she was, felt from those delightfully instructive contacts which were full of zest and yet free from all selfishness and passion, can be better understood from what she once told some woman devotees: ‘From that time onward, I always felt as if a pitcher of bliss was kept in my heart. I cannot convey any idea of how much and in what manner my mind feasted on that steady, unchanging divine j oy. ’

Lakshmi Devi once drew before a monk a picture in these words of how the ever-joyful Master taught the Mother: ‘The Master always alluded to the unreality of the world and its troubles and tribulations, and told the Mother, “ Detachment and devotion are the only things that matter.” He said, “ What would one gain by bearing children, like bitches and vixens? ” The Holy Mother’s mother had many children, some of whom had died. The Mother had brought them up in her lap and had witnessed her parents lamenting the death of some of them; she too had had her share of the sorrow. The Master drew attention to all these and said, “ You too have had much first-hand experience, and you must have realized how painful it all is. Why all this fuss? Without all that, you are your own mistress and will ever remain so.” The Mother was ever busy at work. One morning she was bedaubing the ground inside, with a paste of mud and cow dung,1 and the Master was cutting jokes while brushing his teeth with a twig. To the Mother he said, “ You may dance and sing bedecking yourself with ornaments at the first rice-eating ceremony of your son but you will writhe in agony when the son dies.” The Mother, had been listening to the talk in silence; but when the Master went on alluding repeatedly to the death of sons, she at last blurted out in a low tone, “Will all of them really die?” Hardly had the words escaped her mouth when the Master said loudly, “Ah me! Here indeed I have trampled on the tail of a deadly snake.1 Dear me! I thought she was good-natured, and innocent of everything, but she seems to know a lot! How she says, ‘Will all of them really die?’ ” The Mother left the place in a hurry.

Being free from the constrained manners and artificial courtesies of urban society, the Master felt a spontaneous ease at Kamarpukur and moved freely with people. One day the Mother wanted to go with another lady of the house to an open air religious drama (yatra) which was being staged in a neighbouring village. The Master did not like the idea; but then realizing that they were feeling disappointed, he enacted the whole drama before them without anybody else’s help. He had seen it only once; but so sharp was his memory, so realistic his histrionics and so sweet his music, that the ladies soon got over their sorrow and sat spellbound for a long time, as though they were witnessing the real performance.

About the Master’s disposition at Kamarpukur, the Holy Mother said, ‘I never saw him morose. He rejoiced in everybody’s company—be he a boy or an old man. Certainly, my dear, I never found him gloomy. Ah! At Kamarpukur he would say after leaving his bed every day, “ I shall have this green today for my meal, please cook that.” Overhearing him, we (i.e., Holy Mother and Lakshmi Devi’s mother) would get together some greens and cook them. Sometime later he said, “ Bah! what has happened to me? From early morning I think of eating only! Fie on this! ” And to me he said, “ I have no more desire for any particular dish, I shall eat whatever you cook and whatever you offer.” He used to go to the country for recouping his health; for he suffered very much from digestive troubles at Dakshineswar and said, “ Pooh! The stomach is a store of filth which keeps on flowing out! ” All this made the body repugnant to him, and he took no further care of it. ’

The Master was very fond of cutting jokes. One of his jokes is particularly enjoyable. ‘Lakshmi’s mother and I,’ said the Mother, ‘cooked at Kamarpukur. One day the Master and Hridaya sat for meal.

Lakshmi’s mother was a good cook. Tasting the dish that she had prepared, the Master said, “O Hridaya, it is the Vaidya Ramdas who has cooked this.” And tasting the dish that I had cooked, he ejaculated, “ And this has been cooked by Shrinath Sen.” Lakshmi’s mother was Ramdas Vaidya, and I Shrinath Sen—a quack. At this Hridaya added, “ That is true; but your quack will be ever ready —even for massaging. She has only to be sent for. As for Ramdas Vaidya, his fees are high, you cannot have him at all times. Moreover, people call in the quack first,—he is ever at your service.” The Master said, “ It’s true, it’s true. She is ever there.”’

The Master had a curious boyish liking for seasoning spices. One day, he ordered his niece Lakshmi Devi, ‘Lakshmi, buy an anna worth of flavouring spices.’ And to the Mother he said, ‘Cook a soup of mixed lentils and season it with the spices in such a way that the sound will be like the grunting of a pig.’1 Another day he heard Lakshmi Devi’s mother directing the Holy Mother, saying that as the store was empty of seasoning spices, the cooking was to be done without them. Overhearing this the Master cried out, “How is that, my dear! If the spices have run short why don’t you get a pice worth of them? It won’t do to eliminate any ingredient from anything. It was for the smell of your seasoning spices that I left my delicious dishes at Dakshineswar and came here; and you now want to deprive me of this! ” Put to shame, Lakshmi’s mother at once ordered the spices.’

In 1867, after a long spiritual discipline Sri Ramakrishna came to Kamarpukur and the Holy Mother too came there. Though he had been formally initiated into Sannyasa, his teacher Totapuri had told him, ‘That man is really established in Brahman whose self-abnegation, detachment, discrimination, and realization remain fully unaffected even in the presence of his wife. He is a true knower of Brahman who can ever look upon both men and women as the Self and deal with them accordingly. Those who are conscious of the difference between the sexes may be treading the path of realization, but are as yet far removed from the goal.’ Totapuri, who was a seer himself, added that if a man of the highest realization like Sri Ramakrishna performed his duty towards his wife without any mental deflection, he lost no spiritual value thereby and incurred no demerit. So one can easily understand why a simple, truthful, and bold experimenter in the spiritual field like Sri Ramakrishna accepted his wife with all love when she came to Kamarpukur; and yet this intimacy never affected his mind in the least. But this affected the Bhairavi Brahmani very adversely.

Her first reaction to the Mother’s coming was one of love. The Mother was very young then, and respected the Bhairavi as much as she did her mother-in-law, though fear had, perhaps, something to do in the matter. The Bhairavi, who hailed from East Bengal, would use chillies abundantly in the curries, as was the habit in those parts, and she would offer these to Lakshmi Devi’s mother and the Holy Mother and await their reaction. The former would say bluntly, ‘Forsooth! how terribly hot it is!’ But the Mother, afraid of the Bhairavi’s anger, would say, ‘Good indeed!’— while tears trickled down from her eyes. Unmindful of these the Bhairavi would say to Lakshmi Devi’s mother, ‘But my daughter-in-law (Holy

Mother) here says that it is very savoury. To you, my dear, nothing is good. I shall never again give you any curry.’—The Mother used often to relate the story with a hearty laugh. The Bhairavi one day decorated the Master like Sri Gauranga href=”#bookmark36″>a1 with garlands and called in the Mother to see how charming he looked. The Mother, when she came, found him in a state of divine inebriation which frightened her a little, but when the Brahmani asked, ‘How does he look?’ she replied, ‘Fine,’ and left, after a hurried prostration. Perhaps, she was both shy and nervous; for we have to remember that the Holy Mother was still a veiled maiden who could not yet afford to be bold in her relation with her husband in the presence of an elderly lady like the Bhairavi Brahmani; besides, the Mother who was naturally modest entirely lacked such frivolity.

Though the Mother had no lack of awe and reverence for the Bhairavi, the latter still became jealous because of the Master’s free association with her. Quite a number of families there are which are made unhappy by this unnatural relation between the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law. Be that as it may, the Bhairavi, finding no occasion to have a fling at the Mother, gave vent to her jealousy in other ways. She became apprehensive of Sri Ramakrishna’s future and warned him that by freely mixing with his wife he was but jeopardizing his spiritual welfare. A man of realization like Totapuri could see no harm in the free play of the blazing fire of Sri Ramakrishna’s pure heart; but blinded by her love, the Bhairavi wanted to keep it under her fostering care, not knowing that she would herself get burnt in the process. She refused to realize that the scene was rapidly changing; the little Sarada was steadily but surely coming to the front to take her place as the inheritor of Sri Ramakrishna’s spiritual achievements and the propagator of the glory of motherhood in the world. Sri Ramakrishna, too, fully aware of her life’s mission, was preparing her accordingly. Failing to grasp the divine plan behind it all, the Bhairavi ran counter to them, thereby heaping miseries on herself and making life intolerable for all. The truth, however, dawned on her at last, and finding herself in the wrong, she confessed this to Sri Ramakrishna, took leave of him, and went away to Banaras. She was henceforth totally blotted out of the Mother’s life.

After the departure of the Bhairavi Brahmani, Sri Ramakrishna returned to Dakshineswar and the Holy Mother after a long period of seven months of unalloyed joy, went back to her mother at Jayrambati (November, 1867). ‘We can well understand that henceforward there came a change in her bearing, in her talk and general conduct, etc. But it is doubtful if this was noticed by the ordinary people, for this made her quiet rather than flaunty, introspective rather than obstreperous, and selflessly loving rather than self-centred; and through creating a feeling of unruffled contentment under all circumstances it made her sympathize with people in their trials and tribulations. It thus transformed her into a veritable embodiment of kindness’ (Lilaprasanga, Sadhaka-bhava. pp. 343-44).

1. The Chatterjis of Kamarpukur

1. A figure of speech from the rural custom of marking out a fruit for gods, or a seed by tying a straw round its stem.

1. Sri Sri Ramakriskna Punthi (p. 554) relates, ‘When women went round with twenty-seven burning sticks, the auspicious thread coloured with turmeric and tied round the Master’s arm caught fire and was burnt away. The Master’s acts were all inscrutable. Accepting his permanent Power (meaning the Holy Mother) he got his thread burnt by a trick, as it were.

1. The Hindu belief is that the Mother of the Universe has eight maids on attendance.

2. The Mother was older by about ten years than Lakshmi Devi, her niece (daughter of Rameshwar Chatterji).

3. From an account in Shri Shri Lakskmimani it appears that at the Master’s instance, a boy named Pitambar Bhandari, who was of eleven or twelve years of age, taught Lakshmi Devi and her aunt, the first and second primers, after which the lessons stopped, as that would be enough for enabling them to read the sacred epics like the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. In the recorded talks of the Mother we have no reference to this.

1. Strictly speaking, Rasmani was not a Kaivarta, but belonged to the higher caste of Mahishya, though neither caste could ordinarily expect to have the aristocratic Chatterjis as its temple priests.

1. A practice common in villages where they do not have cemented floors and courtyards. Every morning the housewives mix earth and cowdung in water and then overlay the ground with the paste with the help of a handful of rags.

1. A venomous snake reacts furiously when trampled on, whereas a nonvenomous one tries rather to escape.

1. Cumin (jira), aniseed (mauri), fenugreek (methi), black cumin (Kala jira;, and caraway (randhuni) are singed in oil or clarified butter (ghee), and then the cooked curry or soup is poured on the spices while the pan is still on fire, the reaction being a great sound which can he heard from afar.

1. A 15th century Bengal saint, noted for his unique ecstatic love of God and venerated as an Incarnation.