He has set out on the daily ahar round. In an instant, his gaze envelops and absorbs the entire surroundings and he proceeds with slow, measured steps. I am struck by this effortless alertness of his.
The four directions resonate with cries of invitation, “O Lord! Please come hither! Please stay here! The food and water are without blemish.
I marvel at this novel manner of alms-giving, with utmost reverence and love. The giver is keen to part with all that he possesses; but the recipient is confident that he has always possessed all that is worth seeking. He does not have to turn towards anyone else, or seek anything. All that is needed to sustain the body on the voyage of self-realisation will automatically come his way; he does not have to make any effort. He looks for food which has been prepared without hurting any living being, but without any anxiety or eagerness. All of a sudden, in the manner prescribed for a sadhu observing the highest degree of discipline, he halts near a group of shravaks standing by the doorstep of a house in the hope that their invitation would be accepted. Overwhelmed with joy, the shravaks escort him inside with due reverence and devotion and offer him a high seat. They bathe his feet, respectfully sprinkle the run-off on their heads and do their obeisance. They assure him of the purity of their hearts, speech and bodies, as well as of the food and water that they offer. With heads bowed in salutation, they request him to partake of their offerings. The spontaneityand orderliness of these proceeding cast a spell on me and I observe them, transfixed in my corner.
I hear that he shuns variety in his ahar, limiting himself to very few rasas. This sets me wondering about the fountainhead of ras within, which obviates the need of any external ras. His face is awash with a deep satisfaction, which tells of the ambrosial spring inside his self. It is just an illusion that ras is external to one's self. That is why he is endowed with a rare beauty, though he has renounced salt. His sweetness is boundless, though he does not care for sweets. The lamp of his body, though bereft of fat (sneh) burns brightly with the flame of love for his true-self (atma-sneha). He has given up fruit of all kinds; yet his darshan is truly fruitful for the multitude of beholders.
The balanced rigour of his ahar regime shows that he has no particular attachment to his body. For him, it is just a means of attaining the heights of the soul. The body is an instrument of Dharma. His endeavour is to conserve his bodily capacities in order to pursue the goal of selfrealisation with serenity. I realise how meaningful, yet how rare, it is to make proper use of one's body, while treating it as distinct from one's self.
I notice that like a true seeker, he is able to observe all the rituals prescribed for ahar with ease. Just as one uses no matter what to fill up a pit, he cares little for specific foods or tasty morsels to satisfy the needs of the body. Just as one applies the required quantity of grease to the axle to make it function smoothly and ensure that the vehicle does not make any noise while moving, he accepts proper anar in order that the body functions properly and life's journey continues without hindrance.
Just as one can put out a fire with any kind of water, whether fresh or brackish, he quenches his hunger and thirst with any kind of ahar, delicious or insipid, as long as it is appropriate. Like a cow, who is indifferent to the beauty of the flowers blooming in a garden, or the charms of the person feeding her, and who goes back quietly after having her fill of the grass, he is unaffected by the opulence of a shravak and is focussed on the purity of the food offered, which he consumes in the receptacle of his cupped hands in a standing posture but once a day. This is what is called the gochari vritti.
There is rejoicing all round as the ahar is completed without a hitch. Unaffected by the applause, he leaves, a gentle smile on his visage. This reminds me of the bhramari vritti of a sadhu. Just as a black bee comes humming to a flower, takes a little of the pollen and returns to its hive, pollinating and fulfilling the flower in the process; he partakes of the ahar with absolute detachment, lost all the while in the music of his soul and returns to his camp, having fulfilled the shravak.
After he had left, I stood there for a long time, head bowed. When I came out of my trance, I realised that he had gone far ahead. So far, that I will have to follow him all my life in order to come level with him.
Kundalpur (1976)
Ras -: Literally, taste; also nectar. The Indian culinary tradition recognizes six tastes, viz. sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent and astringent. But amongst the Jains, the word ' ras' is also used to signify six different ingredients of cooking, viz. milk, curd, ghee, oil, jaggery and salt. One or more of these may be given up, temporarily or permanently, by way of self- discipline.
Salt -: Lavan in Sanskrit. There is a word play here on lavan, which is the root of the word lavanya, meaning beauty. " Sneha -: Sanskrit for fat, as well as love, or affection.
Bhramari vritti -: The attitude of a bhramar, a large black bee.