Asian Traditions of Meditation
Page 19
Many Sikhs believe that Gurū Nānak had a direct and mystical experience of God, which laid the foundation of his spiritual teaching. Historical janam-sākhīs (life stories) of Nānak, recorded from the seventeenth century onward, dressed this central idea in prose stories that embroidered how the guru gathered into the divine presence to hear the voice of God and be given a celestial bowl with the immortal nectar (amrit) of nām. By ingesting nām, Nānak was invested with the office of guru and received a robe of honor that sanctified his spiritual authority and mission.13 As many Sikhs would assert, Nānak’s teaching emanates from this revelatory experience, when he was imbued with the divine name and returned to the world to mediate a divine message. By obeying the commands of God and immersing himself in relentless meditation on the divine name, Nānak became an enlightened guru for the world and opened up a path toward liberation. Sikh disciples who have been graced with the power and capacity to submit to this spiritual teaching are similarly able to realize the divine.
Second, nām also refers to a spiritual discipline that includes a wide range of devotional practices. In Sikh textual sources, as well as in the broader Sant tradition, remembrance of the divine name (nām simran) and repetition of the divine name (nām japna) stand out as two key methods by which commentators have given various interpretations.14 Considering that the Sikh gurus did not hesitate to criticize their Hindu and Muslim contemporaries for reliance on formal rituals without inner commitment, scholars have often given preference to interpretations that privilege interior and soteriological meanings of nām simran. According to the historian W. H. McLeod, for example, the literal understanding of nām simran is “nearer to a description of Guru Nanak’s practice than ‘repeating the Name,’” and the prescribed method for engrafting the divine into the human mind and heart is “meditation on the nature of God, on His qualities and His attributes as revealed in the Word (Śabad).”15 Another example is given by the linguist Christopher Shackle and the historian Arvind-Pal Singh Mandair, who emphasize the inner transformation of the human ego and describe nām simran as “the constant holding in remembrance of the Name, which goes beyond ritualistic repetition to become a spontaneous form of loving meditation in which the ego is disappropriated.”16 Interpretations such as these impart a picture of nām simran as a discipline primarily involving contemplative and meditative practices, while exterior acts, such as the recitation and repetition of sacred words and formulas, are given a secondary and instrumental importance. As God is beyond birth and death and cannot incarnate in Sikh theology, the object of focus for these exercises is the divine word (śabad) and name (nām). The primary target for transformation is the human mind/heart (man), which is considered to be a powerful mental and emotional faculty that attempts to divert humans from their divine inner self and make their actions be driven by attachment to the world.
The discipline of nām simran is frequently presented as a progressive spiritual path on which a person gains different types of understanding and experiences, and ultimately consciousness and knowledge of God (giān). A model for this spiritual progression is found in Japjī Sāhib, which describes five khaṇḍs, or “realms”—duty, knowledge, effort, grace and truth—as representing different ascending or overlapping stages of spiritual development.17 The five realms are supposed to correspond to a process of expanding the human consciousness and knowledge: In the first stages, perceptual and rational knowledge is attained through mental perception and intellectual reason, while the final stage—sach khaṇḍ or “the realm of truth”—implies a realization and union with the divine. This realization is not approached as an intellectual understanding of God but rather as a mystical experience, in which a person is graced with intuitive knowledge and unites with a higher truth.18
Different methods of implementing the guru’s messages presumably evolved in the early Sikh community and came to include performances of silent meditation as well as verbal repetitions of sacred words and the singing of religious compositions.19 Sikh narrative traditions, for example, provide a wealth of stories about the Sikh gurus’ intensive and disciplined meditation (tapasiā) and about how they advised others to engage in various devotional and meditative practices.20 Written manuals of the Sikh code of conduct, so-called rahit-nāmās, from the beginning of the eighteenth century present nām simran as an essential form of worship, in which Sikhs should engage. These documents reflect an attempt to define and standardize normative practices in writing, especially when the succession line of human gurus ended with the death of Gobind Singh in 1708, and the Sikh scripture ascended to the office of the guru. In the Tanakhāh-nāmā, attributed to Bhai Nand Lal, who many believe was a contemporary of Gobind Singh, a khālsā Sikh is defined as a person who “remains absorbed in the divine Name.”21 This rahit-nāmā tells how Bhai Nand Lal asked the guru about the fundamental deeds of the Sikhs, whereupon he got the ideals summarized by the words nām (divine name), dān (charity), and ishnān (bathing).22 Later manuals similarly describe the meditation on and repetition, hearing, and reading of the divine name as defining practices for Sikhs who follow the gurus’ teaching.23 The present code of conduct from 1950 (Sikh Rahit Maryādā) states that meditation on nām should be an incorporated part of the Sikh personal life: The Sikhs are to wake up early in the morning, take a bath, contemplate on God (akāl purakh), and repeat vāhigurū.24
Textual sources indicate that at some point in history the Sikhs came to understand and use vāhigurū, literally meaning “wonderful guru,” as the specific name for the divine and a sanctioned formula for meditative practices. The term vāhigurū is one of the many epithets for God mentioned in Gurū Granth Sāhib, and in later sources described as a gurmantra that was given by the historical gurus to their disciples for remembrance and meditation.25 For example, the eighteenth-century rahit-nāmā of Daya Singh provides an instructive line about how continuous repetition of vāhigurū will imbue the human inner with the divine name: “The Singh’s duty is to repeat the Word (shabad), to learn to wield weapons, and to enshrine the mantra Vāh gurū in his heart, repeating it with every breath in and every breath out, and thereby fixing it within his inner being (man).”26 Sikh commentators frequently evoke references to the exegete Bhai Gurdas (1551–1636), who at the turn of the sixteenth century explained the term as being composed of four holy syllables—Vava, Haha, Gaga, and Rara—representing four divine names—Vāsudev, Hari, Gobind, and Rām—in the four ages of creation (sat, dvāpar, tretā, and kali).27 From this understanding vāhigurū is considered to be the amalgam of different labels of a single and formless power, not to be associated with incarnated deities in the Hindu tradition. The four separate syllables joined into a compound represent different designations of the divine, which become powerful when brought together.28
A perusal of contemporary descriptions of the Sikh teaching suggests that nām simran is a unifying term for a spiritual discipline that may cover a wide range of individual and collective practices. It includes methods of silent contemplation during which the devotee inwardly reflects upon the nature and qualities of God, but also verbal repetition of words and sacred formulas that represent the divine name, such as vāhigurū. Singing devotional hymns (kīrtan) from the scripture is considered another form of nām simran through which devotees can attune with a higher power. In the widest definition it implies a larger devotional lifestyle in which a person actively seeks divine knowledge by reading and understanding the guru’s teaching in Gurū Granth Sāhib, participates in various religious activities, upholds moral standards, and works for others in their social life while remembering God in every thought, speech, and deed. Various modern movements and groups (jathās) within Sikhism have further nuanced this picture by stipulating their own distinctive codes of conduct and techniques for performing nām simran.29
The following sections provide a few ethnographic glimpses of how contemporary Sikhs in the local setting of Varanasi may interpret, perform, and provide a wide range of meanings to
nām simran. As the description illustrates, nām simran has become a highly formalized practice of reciting the gurmantra with specific breathing techniques and concerns about time and space. The practice is not merely a mental activity but also a recitative meditation that combines sound, word, meaning, and devotion.
Individual Practices of Nām Simran
The ways in which local Sikhs have come to practice nām simran in their religious and social lives are countless. In everyday life, people may repeat the name of God, vāhigurū, internally when they are riding a scooter, walking, traveling by bus, performing domestic duties, or when going to bed. In moments of emotional distress or physical discomfort, many Sikhs recite the name of God in a voiced or soundless manner to gain inner strength and courage. This is particularly noticeable in speech acts that seek divine assistance to shield from human or supernatural ill-wishers. An elderly Sikh man in Varanasi said he used to repeat the gurmantra to ward off all possible dangers caused by humans and spirits when he sometimes had to walk alone through the city in the middle of the night. When facing evildoers in reality or in dreams, uttering vāhigurū is believed to invoke the power behind the name for protection.
Among Sikhs who have undergone the initiation ceremony and follow the normative khālsā discipline more strictly, a nām simran technique is occasionally used for greetings. When two friends meet, they first embrace each other and adjust their breathing to one another and then repeat vāhigurū in unison for a couple of minutes. The chanting will frame their conversation and only after having formally ended the session with an exclamation of the standardized khālsā ovation (vāhigurū jī kā khālsā, vāhigurū jī kī fateh), they will start everyday talk. According to a popular opinion, the gurus instituted recitative repetition of the divine name (nām japna) as a devotional practice for Sikhs in general, and for illiterates in particular, since repeating vāhigurū numerous times with inner devotion and pure intentions can grant them the same fruits as readings from the Sikh scripture.
Although nām simran can be performed spontaneously in numerous improvised ways and is not regulated by strict techniques as are meditation practices in other Indian traditions, there are a few general directives that aim to create a suitable context for the exercise. Preferably a devotee should create a daily routine of performing nām simran at least once a day. The “nectar hours” (amritvela) from 2 to 6 a.m. are considered to be an auspicious time of the day and the most favorable for contemplation, when the mind is fresh and the surroundings peaceful. As the devotee is expected to contemplate the divine attentively without distractions, the ideal environment is a secluded and quiet spot, whether this can be found at home, in the gurdwārā, or elsewhere. To aid the concentration, many of my interlocutors emphasized the importance of sitting on the ground in a straight and alert position, preferably in a posture with the legs folded and drawn up, without leaning against a wall.
The repetition of vāhigurū can be uttered loudly or soundlessly in unison with the heartbeat or the breath. According to a distinct breathing technique that is sometimes used, the devotee should utter the first syllables of the gurmantra—vāhi—while inhaling, followed by an exhalation of the last syllables—gurū—with long intonation on the ending vowel. During a practical demonstration of the method in Varanasi, a younger man said that vāhi should emanate from the inside, as if being pulled out from the belly button, whereas the sound of gurū flows from the mouth. When the gurmantra is repeated at a hurried pace, the first syllable is replaced by the sound of an exaggerated inhalation and a sharper pronunciation of the consonants—gru—when breathing out. To assist the repetition, the devotee can use a rosary with 27 or 108 beads, each of which is rolled off with the forefinger and thumb to the utterance of the gurmantra. There is no instruction on how many times vāhigurū should be recited, but rather the guiding rule seems to be as much as possible according to individual ability.
Although many of these individual practices stand out as ritualized techniques that hardly correspond to definitions of meditation as a mental technique for self-cultivation or inner transformation, many Sikhs will emphasize over and over again that merely a mechanical repetition of vāhigurū from one’s lips is not sufficient. Different formalized ways of repeating sacred words, either soundlessly or audibly, can be considered as effective means to attentively focus the mind and deepen the contemplation and will prove favorable only when propelled by sincere devotion and concentration. While these are basic ideals to strive toward, many would quickly admit to the difficulty of following such a discipline in everyday life, for varying reasons. While conversing on this subject, a middle-aged woman in Varanasi stigmatized herself as a “sinner” because she used to keep later hours and could not wake up in the early nectar-hours for nām simran. A younger man, who indeed rose before dawn to devote himself to recitative meditation, admitted that his concentration was frequently tottering. Whenever this happened he just broke off his repetition and performed a prayer in which he pleaded to God for more strength the following day. The attentiveness, dedication, and power of mind necessary to keep up a regular and disciplined individual practice is ultimately considered to be a gift graced by God.
Collective Practices of Nām Simran
Participation in sādh sangat—the assembly of like-minded who have gathered for devotional singing and chanting—is important in the Sikh religion and is considered extremely favorable to concentration and encouragement. During daily ceremonies in the gurdwārā, Sikh musicians (rāgis) frequently insert shorter sessions of nām simran, accompanied with harmonium and tabla, as a prelude to or conclusion of the ordinary program. The musicians may lead the tuneful chanting for several minutes to create a religious atmosphere and engage the congregation in meditation. Similarly, when preparing and distributing food from the communal kitchen of the gurdwārā, devotees usually repeat satnām vāhigurū (true name, wonderful guru) to allow every portion of vegetables, rice, and bread be accompanied by the name of God and to call attention to the divine giver. Whenever the Sikh scripture is to be moved from one location to another, the assembled people likewise chant the gurmantra in a melodious chorus.30
A far more formalized type of collective nām simran are “gatherings” (samāgams) or “spiritual practices” (sādhnās) that are organized in gurdwārās or at private houses by groups of devotees who undertake a discipline to sing and repeat the gurmantra jointly for one or sometimes several hours. During my fieldwork in Varanasi, around thirty Sikhs used to assemble in the house of a family every Sunday morning at 4 am. Refraining from unnecessary talk, they removed their sandals before entering a selected room and took seats on the floor, men and women in separate rows. To cut themselves off from social reality and create a meditative space, they closed the doors, drew the curtains and put out all lights in the room. In darkness the host would put on a cassette tape titled “simran practice” (simran sādhnā), which was a recorded version of a devotional performance by a pious Sikh musician who combined the singing of hymns from the scripture with repetitions of vāhigurū. While keeping their eyes shut, people would listen and soon start to join in, imitating the recorded performance that was reverberating in the confined space. After some thirty minutes the devotional music would fade into a unison chanting of the name of God—vāhigurū—led by the recorded performer. Gradually the sound of instruments disappeared and the pace of the repetition intensified. All participants regulated their breathing to the pronunciation—inhaling with the utterance of vāhi and aspirating gurū—at a faster speed until every respiring second in the room was imbued with loud polyphonic sounds of female and male voices. Depending on which tape was selected, the intensive repetition under control of the breath could continue for several minutes, relapse into a slower melodious singing, and then be repeated again. This oscillation between slow and fast rhythms was seen as a method to prevent the participants from sinking into drowsiness or moving into trance-like states. Instead they were expected to individually
experience the divine from within while retaining consciousness and concentration. At the very end of these gatherings, about one and a half hours later, the lights were switched on and everyone rose to a standing position for a joint reading of the Sikh prayer (ardās) before they continued home to their daily duties at daybreak.
The reason why local Sikhs prefer to use audio recordings in collective nām simran programs can be found, firstly, in the positive reception of modern technology within the broader Sikh community.31 Recordings of devotional music (kīrtan), exegetical discourses (kathā), and recitations of hymns from the Gurū Granth Sāhib (pāth) are today mass-produced for a growing market in India and abroad. In major gurdwārās in Punjab the daily services are broadcast on TV channels and the Internet for a global Sikh community. Secondly, it is typical that the tapes and DVDs used specifically for nām simran programs are often recordings of live performances, fully embedded in a traditional context of sādh sangat led by a religious person. This seems to be rooted in a belief that only individuals who are deemed saintly and fully engaged in devotion can be appropriate guides for common people in the disciplined practice. The recordings provide an easy accessible means of receiving the instructions of a saintly person and a devotional congregation irrespective of geographical location. People may gather at a place and form a group that listens to and joins in the playback as if they were participating in a larger congregation in the presence of a devout instructor. That nām simran recordings are usually live performances, rather than studio productions, seems to emphasize this participatory aspect.