TV Channel

Part 1: The Power of a Single Word: Stories of Tulsīdās and Vālmīki There is a river called the Yamunā—the Yamunā River, Gaṅgā, Yamunā, Sarasvatī. A young boy, perhaps twenty or twenty-five years old, had recently married. It often happens that after the wedding, after a few days or a month, the parents bring the bride back home. She should stay for some days, and then she can go again. So the girl had come to her parents’ house, and the young boy—she is young, he is young—felt intense emotion. And what does he do? He wants to go to her. In the night he wants to visit her and then return quickly, otherwise his parents… well, you know how strict parents can be. Her parents too would say, “My God, what is this?” But she was more humble, more spiritual. At that time there was no electricity, and the Yamunā River flowed there. It was not the monsoon, so the water was not too high. He went, and he swam. But how to cross? A dead body was floating in the river. He caught hold of it, and with that dead body he swam and reached the other shore, the opposite bank of the river. And she knew; he knew. He went to their house. It was about ten, ten-thirty, eleven o’clock—at that time everyone slept after sunset. He knocked on the door from behind, at the windows, something like that. He knew where his wife, or this girl, stayed—which room it was. He knocked, and she opened. She said, “Oh my dear, my lord, at this time! My parents, what will they say? You could have let us know, but not like this.” He said, “Don’t speak. It is like this, but I love you so much.” His wife said to him, “My dear, you have that much love for me. If you had even a small part of that love for God, it would mean more than my love for you.” And that young boy was so angry that he said, “I will never see your face again.” He went out and did not return. He went away somewhere. And who was that? Tulsīdās, who wrote the holy Rāmāyaṇa. That is what came to be; it is called vairāgya, dispassion. With one word, his wife said something, and he said, “No more.” He left, and he became Tulsīdās. This is beautiful; it is written in the Rāmāyaṇa itself. Yes, previously he was a useless person. What can we do about that? So there are many things. This is a real teaching, a proper learning. One should have knowledge, but the master will teach you what no scripture can teach. Just studying scriptures or going elsewhere will not provide it. There is no sound, only camera—oh, my camera. Where is the camera? In Australia, that camera. That is very good. And so, if you want to become the master—when you become that holiness—do not look at the book, do not look at sitting in tapasyā, but sit in the company of the master. Without words, knowledge flows there. That is very important. Many of us can read, we can go to university, we hold many diplomas, this and that. But still, the knowledge we have learned is only on the surface. That means after death it is gone. Only pictures remain, somewhere or in books that have been written or spoken about, but that is nothing compared to this. So whether female or male, the master, the mother—that female can be a great master. And she was the master of Tulsīdās. How? By always giving knowledge, saying “do this” and then “do that”? No, no. But one day the word comes like an arrow. And where does the arrow land? In the heart. There is a poem: “Lagi Lagi Sab Koī Kahe, Lagi Lagi Sab Koi Kahe, Lagi Nahi, Lagi Jiske Aisi Lagi, Ho Gayi Parampara.” Everyone says, “Oh, I am hurt, I am hurt,” but not really. The arrow that pierces right through the heart will stay forever. For Tulsīdāsjī, that is what vairāgya means—no more, finished. Then you can no longer run after this and that. You want to go there, you want to go there. You don’t want to do this; I don’t want to be in that. None of it. You have found your path, and now you will stay on it. And Tulsīdāsjī—until now, such a holy book he wrote. But the Rāmāyaṇa that Tulsīdāsjī wrote—in truth, Tulsīdās did not write it. There was another person in the forest, like among the Maoris here. That person, among the Maoris, would catch people, kill them, and take everything away. Mahāprabhujī karatā hai kevalam: “I will take from you, and if I take your life, otherwise you will always say, ‘I gave him something and went my way.’ No.” So they were killing humans. Then it came to Tulsīdās—no, not Tulsīdās, but someone else whose name I have somewhere… never mind. The story goes that one day Bhagavān came as Nārada—Nārada Ṛṣi, Nārada. Nārada often comes from Brahma Loka; that is called saṃskāra. When they come, there is Śiva, Praṇām, everything. You are protected here, yes? Good. So Nārada Ṛṣi came. The thief said, “I want to give him knowledge.” Actually, whatever he had, the thief said, “This is mine.” The victim said, “Okay, you can take it. But why did you kill me?” He answered, “Because you didn’t give me a donation. I will fight with you and kill you.” The man pleaded, “Please, why do you kill me? For what?” The thief replied, “For my family, for my wife, my father, for them.” The man said, “This is a sin.” This whole story is there. You can read it many times, go to the temple, and they will give you the same story I am telling you. So Nārada Ṛṣi said, “It is a sin to kill someone.” The thief asked, “Why? I am not taking without purpose, but I will kill you.” “Why? Your parents… you are doing this?” The thief said, “I bring food and all this for my family.” So what I said is, when you kill someone, what do you call it? Pāpa. What is pāpa? Sin. Thank you. He said, “No, no… your parents, your wife, they will not take the sin, nor save you, nor serve you, nor share it with you. All the sin will remain with you.” The thief refused to believe. He said, “Go and ask your parents.” He replied, “Ha ha ha. You would go and ask them, but by then you would run away.” The thief declared, “You can tie me to the trunk of this tree.” So they tied him completely, and his friends were there. At midday he went home, and his parents and his wife said, “You have come so quickly—what is it?” He said, “No, but I want to ask you a question.” Meanwhile, his friends who had been guarding the captive had disappeared, because he would have killed them too. Now he said, “Father, will you share in my sins?” His father answered, “My son, I will not. It is your karma. You are my son, and I am your father, so you must feed me. But how you feed me, whether good or bad, that is yours.” Then he went to his mother. The mother said the same. Then he went to his wife. His wife said, “Why should I take the sin upon myself? You are doing your duty.” So he went back. All his friends were gone, but the man—Nārada, she?—was still tied to the tree trunk. He asked, “What did your parents say?” The thief was so sad. “No one shares my sin. How will I become free now? And where are my friends?” He said, “I don’t know. They just went away. I called them, called them, but no, they had run off somewhere.” That thief was Bāla Mīkī—okay. So he said, “Now what can I do about my sin?” Then I will say that Nārada Ṛṣi gave him a mantra of the gods. The thief asked, “Which god? What? I don’t know anything.” “Then I give you one mantra. And this mantra is your Rāma. What does the name of God Rāma mean?” But a sinner cannot bring his mind to speak God’s name, and his tongue does not move in the right way. So he said, “Ram,” and it came out as “Maram.” Maram—you said Ram, but it became Maram. After Rama, the second pronunciation sounded like Maram. Mahārāj, maram means killing. And your tongue said “killing, killing.” You are saying, “But I am killing.” So Nārada Muni said, “It doesn’t matter—just say the name of God, only two letters.” There is no His Highness God, this, that, nothing. Only Rām. Therefore we call only Śiva, we call only Brahmā, we call only Viṣṇu, not with their higher titles, God, this and that. And God Rāma is only Rāma, Kṛṣṇa is only Kṛṣṇa, Jesus is only Jesus. All the gods—they don’t want any title, only that name. So you should make a mantra. This is your mantra. Sit down: Rām, Rām, Rām. And he said, “Now you will know what you want. I go.” Nārada Muni went away. So it is like people who are gurus or anything—sometimes they receive such knowledge or something, and it turns everything around. An alcohol drinker, one day he gives it up. Any drug will quickly do something, otherwise it goes on. You must receive a proper injection of the word. So he said, “Rām, Rām,” and look how the resonance is with the Rām—it is so beautiful. Sit up straight, everybody sit straight, okay, and we will see now. Chant with me, and you will feel the resonance. What? Like a bell in the church, the bell in the temple, the bell in the heart, the bell in love, the boy in God. Only this one resonance from the body to the cosmic self. Rām, Rām… Rām. Now, did you feel something on this one name, Nābhi, Maṇipūra Chakra? And Rāma, the R, that mantra. So that Vālmīki, he sat like this and he went into samādhi. He went into samādhi—no hunger, no thirst, no heat, no cold, nothing. And what was happening? Termites took earth and built it onto his body completely, through and through. He was sitting under what we call a termite mound. And what was happening? There was a hole underneath, and cobras were going in and out, but he did not know anything of that—only one resonance, Padaryo, only that one reason, resonance: Rām, Rām, go ahead, Rām, Rām. It was just bones, skin, everything. After a while he woke up. That is called Vālmīki, Vālmīki. And then he wrote the Rāmāyaṇa. And in that Rāmāyaṇa, he began to write about Lord Rāma before his birth or incarnation, before his parents—Vālmīki became what we call Trikāla Darśī. He became Trikāla Darśī. Tri means three; kāla means past, present, and future. That yogī became such that he could know what happened in the past, how it is happening now, and what will be in the future. That was Vālmīki. Part 2: Sanātana Dharma and the Grace of the Guru That was Vālmīki, a person who had been a thief, a killer, and so on. Yet through sādhanā, Guru Kṛpāhi Kevalam, Śiṣyeka Ānanda Maṅgalam. Guru Kṛpāhi Kevalam—the blessing of Gurudev is such that everything can happen. Simply sitting in meditation or reading many books is only the surface. Go deep inside. Many people were working in the fields, yet they gained that knowledge. In one day, everything changes. So, Bālmīkījī wrote about God Rāma, King Daśaratha, and the entire story. That whole story was written beforehand. Why was Daśaratha suffering? Kālabalmīkī knew everything—past, present, and future—and he wrote it down. He wrote in the Sanskrit language, perhaps 50,000 years ago. That is why we call it Hindu Dharma, Dharma. Dharma Rakṣita Rakṣitāḥ. If you protect your dharma, the dharma will protect you. What is dharma? Dharma is not a religion in the ordinary sense, nor a temple or a church. What is your dharma? When you marry, your dharma is to care for your wife in every way. And she will keep her dharma toward her husband; that is her protection. To this day, there are many such customs. One day you do not eat or drink, and once a year, for twenty-four hours, your wife will not eat or drink. For whom? For the husband. Yet the husband is protecting her. Both are one, and that is called Śiva-Śakti. That becomes Śiva-Śakti. So all of this was written in Sanskrit. Hindu Dharma is Ādi Anādi. How old is Hindu Dharma? It is ages and ages, not for a single age. But in Kali Yuga, in this Kali Yuga, many religions have appeared. Everyone can claim, “This is my dharma, this is my religion.” But at the beginning, there was only Sanātana Dharma. Sanātana Dharma means not only for humans, but for plants, for the earth, for the protection of mountains, the ocean, and all five elements. That is dharma: dharmo rakṣita rakṣitaha. It means if you protect dharma, it will protect you. But if you are not protecting it and you try to get others to give you things, you will not be protected. If a person has a big shop and much money, an officer may become jealous and say, “You have too much money. This and that—finish it.” And everything is closed. Why? That is not dharma. You can address wrongs without cutting someone off completely. That is not dharma. So Hindu dharma is ādi and ādi—endless, from the beginning until now. When did this earth begin? The earth was not here; only water was here. Which god came and brought the earth out from the ocean? Viṣṇu’s story is beautiful, but who was the first? It was Varāhāī, the Varāhāī. Bhagavān Viṣṇu appeared as a Varāha, and he carried the earth on his tusk and brought it out of the ocean. He balanced it upon the water so beautifully that it floats. That God did this. From that time, and even before, we have been. Now, what are humans doing? Very soon, Pralaya will come. Pralaya means that everything will be finished. You cannot run away. You may have a big villa or an airplane, but the whole earth—the mountains, the rivers, the forests—everything was perfectly balanced so the earth would remain afloat on the water. Now we dig for coal, gold, petrol; we pump water underground; we break mountains to build roads. The balance is being lost. What are we humans doing? Very soon, the earth will go down. Your child, your mother, your uncle—all will be finished in an instant, just like that. That is why in Hindu Dharma we perform so many ceremonies, offer prasāda, do pūjās. Through these, the balance is still somehow maintained; otherwise, the earth would quickly sink. Sanātana Dharma is all one and one in all. Do you know how cruel people are, killing animals? Cows stand there unable to sit or walk because their udders are so large. They cannot sit down properly; one leg is stuck out like that, and they cannot stand up. O human! Kuruval, that will come back to you one day. Therefore, Sanātana Dharma teaches that we must return again. Mahārāj Bhagavān is the one who brings us across. So, what Rāma did and is doing—everything is from that, from Vālmīki. Ask someone, “Which are your holy scriptures?” Some say the Qur’ān, some say the Bible, some say something else. These are like school booklets. Mahāprabhujīp Karatā Mahāprabhujīp Karatā—Vālmīki is the one who wrote inside. He is called Trikāladarśī. Trikāladarśī means a saint who can see the past, present, and future. But we cannot understand Sanskrit. Therefore, Tulsīdāsjī came and wrote the Rāmāyaṇa in simple Hindi. Tulsīdāsjī did not claim to be the author; he only wrote in a common language so that everyone could approach it. So it is said: Tulsī karatā nahīṁ hai, Tulsī bhāṣā jo hai, vo isko karne ke liye, Tulsī Dājī. But you know what happened with Tulsī Dājī—from beginning to end, so many sit and chant Rām, Rāmgam. Nama Nārāyaṇa, Gurudev. Saying “I will become consciousness” is very pleasing, but these are only children’s toys. Ultimately, you have to come to the real. Dayālu beda tu pāra lagā de. Gurude, śaraṇa tuma, cintā merī miṭā de. Finally, no matter how many sādhanās, samādhis, or other practices we do, in the end, it is not enough. Then it is said: “Gurudev, śaraṇ tumhārī.” Now I have come to take shelter in you, to die in your shelter. There, he will not give you sādhanā, tāpanā, āsanas, prāṇāyāma, or Duryā Agnisāra kriyā—all that is finished. Kriyā is finished. Guru kṛpāhi kevalam śiṣyaki ānanda maṅgalam. But don’t run away. There is a very timid person coming—yes, “Chobhā Gurudev, śaraṇ tumhārī, cintā merī kavitāde, Gurudev, śaraṇ tumhārī.” Moyā lāgī laganā kuru caraṇa naki? Caraṇa binā moye kasunahi bhāve? Caraṇa kamalamoye satyagyāmayī. But don’t run after me. Don’t run in front of me, okay? Yes, you are a good singer. I am not like that, okay? Once more. And then one person will sing first, and then you. But you are running like a hockey player—cricket, my God, this cricket. Okay. Charan binā mo ek āsū nahīṁ pāve, charan ek charan binā mo ek ve. Charan jag māyā sab sapanan kī, jag māyā sab sapanan kī. Mo ye lagī lagan ācharan kamal, mo ye kasunai pecharan. Jag māyā sab sapanan kī. Jag Māyā sab sapanan kī, mo ye lagī lagan… Mīrābai said: “My concentration, my feelings—everything is fixed at the holy feet of my Gurudev.” Charana binā, moyā, kasva nahīṁ bhave. Without Gurudev’s holy feet, nothing is anything for me. I do not like anything else. Jag Maya Sab Sapne Ki. Why? Because this Māyā—the material world and all your countless desires—keeps you again and again. This is māyā: your money, this and that. You may be great, but in no time it is all gone. You have technology now, the computer. In our language, “come” means little. Everything is hanging there; it does not move. That is a computer, so do not put too much into it. If you put more in, be careful. One small mistake with your ten fingers, a single touch, and everything is gone. Therefore, save this. In this saṃsāra, whatever you have is fine, but when this life ends, nothing will remain with you. Everything is gone. That is why Mirabai said: “Please let me stay at the holy feet of Gurudev.” It does not mean you must sit there day and night; it means devotion, bhakti. Guru charan lagi laga dagi, charan binā mo yeh kasu nahīṁ vaave… Jag Māyā Sab Sapn Kī. Suppose you have ice cream, sugar, a laddū, or honey—it is only in the mouth. When you swallow it, the stomach does not know what it was; there is no taste anymore. This world is temporary while we are here. When we die, nothing remains. That is why it is said: Jagmaya Sab Sopne Kī. All that I have is just for this day, like this. You do not know what will happen. You may be sitting at home, like a beautiful bird, but you do not know in which direction it will fly. Our life will also go, and therefore we come to Gurudev. Chit Chit… Kahi Goro Charan Naki. That is the science of humans. When we come there, other āsanas, prāṇa, poom-poom on this side, poom-poom on that side—the cobra pushes, it is fine, we are doing something. But at that time, if you hold on to everything, there is only confusion. Everything will go wrong. Therefore, get up.