by Tulsidas
The view of the Vedas, the Puranas and the saints.
A woman is never enamoured of another woman’s beauty,
This, destroyer of serpents, is customary.
But listen to this—both maya and bhakti
Are of the feminine gender, as everyone knows.
Bhakti is beloved of Raghubir,
While poor Maya is only a dancing girl.
Ram is very favourably disposed towards Bhakti,
So Maya is terribly afraid of her.
Ram’s Bhakti is incomparable and illimitable,
And Maya shrinks at the very sight of one
In whose heart Bhakti dwells unhindered—
She has no power over such a one.
Thus reflecting, enlightened munis
Desire only bhakti, the source of all bliss.
This mystery of Raghunath
No one comprehends all at once.
Whoever, by Raghupati’s favour, does understand it,
Is never, even in dream, subject to any delusion.
(116A)
Now, O wise and clever Garud,
Listen more to the difference between knowledge and bhakti,
The hearing of which leads to everlasting
And uninterrupted love for Ram’s feet.
(116B)
Listen, son, to this ineffable tale,
Which may only be understood but cannot be explained.
The soul is a tiny part of the Divine, indestructible,
Intelligent, pure and inherently blissful.
But it is in the grip of maya, sire,
And has trapped itself like a parrot or a monkey.7
The material and the spiritual have been tied together in a knot,
Which, though imaginary, is difficult to untie.
Thus the soul becomes caught in the cycle of rebirth,
And till that knot is untied, it can know no happiness.
The Vedas and Puranas suggest many means,
But the knot doesn’t loosen and the entanglement increases.
The soul is filled with the darkness of delusion,
And cannot see how to loosen the knot.
Even when God creates favourable circumstances,
The knot remains difficult to untie.
If, by Hari’s grace, the beautiful cow of true piety
Comes to dwell in one’s heart,
She grazes upon the green grass
Of prayer, penance, fasts, self-restraint, internal purification,
And all the religious practices which the Vedas declare to be righteous conduct.
Her calf, for which her teats overflow with milk, is love.
Resignation is the rope which binds her hind legs, faith the vessel which catches the milk,
And the milkman a pure mind subject only to itself.
Once the milk of supreme righteousness has been obtained,
Let it be set to boil upon the fire of fulfilment.
Let it be cooled by the breath of contentment and forgiveness,
And set into curd with fortitude.
Let this be churned in the earthen pot of joy, with reflection for the churning-stick,
Self-restraint for the support, and truth and pleasant speech for the cords.
And by this churning extract the fresh butter of dispassion,
Clear, pure and sanctifying.
Let the butter be placed upon the fire of abstract contemplation,
Kindled with one’s past actions, good and bad.
When the impurity of attachment is burned away,
Let the ghee of knowledge be cooled by reason.
(117A)
Let reason, the embodiment of worldly understanding,
Having obtained this pure ghee of knowledge,
Fill with it the lamp that is the intellect,
And set it firmly upon the stand of equanimity.
(117B)
From the raw cotton of the three states of consciousness8 and the three gunas,
Let reason draw out the fibres of the fourth state of the soul9
And make out of them a wick
That is sturdy and strong.
(117C)
In this manner let it light the bright lamp
Of knowledge—
The moths of vanity and other vices
Are immediately consumed upon approaching it.
(117D)
‘I am that brahm’—this indestructible awareness
Is the lamp’s brightly burning flame.
The bliss that results from this self-realization is the shining light
That destroys the error of duality, the root of this existence.
Delusion and the other forms of infinite darkness
That depend on the prevalence of ignorance, all disappear,
Then reason, having thus found a light,
Sits in the chamber of the heart and tries to loosen the knot.
If it succeeds in untying that knot,
The soul realizes its purpose.
But when Maya sees it loosening the knot, Garud,
She creates many difficulties.
She sends forth the Riddhis and Siddhis, my friend,
Which tempt reason to avarice.
They draw near, by artifice, force, or fraud,
And blow out that lamp of knowledge by fanning it with their robes.
Reason, if it be clever and wise,
Refuses to look at them, realizing their hostile intent.
If reason is not hindered by these obstacles,
The gods proceed to create trouble.
The various senses are doorways and windows
At which the gods sit and keep watch.
If they see the wind of sensuality stirring,
They determinedly throw the doors and shutters open.
If that tempest blows into the heart,
The lamp of knowledge is put out.
The knot is not loosened, the light of self-realization is extinguished,
And reason is defeated by this wind of sensuality.
Neither the senses nor the gods like knowledge,
For they are ever enamoured of sensual pleasure.
And if reason has been fooled by this wind of sensuality,
Who can light that lamp again as before?
Then the soul is again tormented
By the manifold miseries of birth and rebirth.
Hari’s maya is very difficult to cross,
It cannot be easily traversed.
(118A)
Discernment is difficult to explain, difficult to understand,
Difficult to achieve through practice,
And if, by some chance, one attains it,
There are many obstacles to retaining it.
(118B)
The path of knowledge is like the edge of a sword—
It is easy to fall from it, O king of the birds.
He who can walk this path without hindrance
Attains to the supreme state of eternal liberation.
But this supreme state of eternal freedom is difficult to attain—
So declare the saints, the Puranas, the Vedas and all the Shastras.
With the worship of Ram, sire, the same eternal liberation
Comes freely, of its own accord and even if not sought.
Just as water cannot stay without the ground beneath for support,
However many ways you may try to make it,
In the same way, O king of the birds,
The joy of salvation cannot stay without devotion to Hari.
Reflecting thus, the clever worshippers of Hari
Spurn salvation and crave devotion.
With bhakti, without any exertion or effort,
The ignorance that is the root of birth and rebirth is destroyed,
Just as we eat for our own satisfaction,
But it is the fire in our bellies that digests what is eaten.
Who is so foolish as to find no delight
In devotion to Har
i that is so easy and pleasant?
‘I am his servant, and the Lord is my master’—without this feeling
It is impossible to cross the ocean of this existence, Uragari.
Worship then Ram’s lotus feet,
Keeping this truth in mind.
(119A)
In Raghunath is the power
To make the sentient inert,
And the inert sentient.
Blessed are they who worship him.
(119B)
I have explained the doctrine of knowledge to you,
Now listen to the power of the gem that is bhakti.
Devotion to Ram is a sparkling wish-fulfilling jewel,
Which shines with its own radiance night and day,
Needing neither lamp, nor ghee, nor wick.
Delusion and poverty do not come near him
Whose heart contains this jewel, Garud.
Nor can greed ever extinguish this light.
The deep darkness of ignorance is dispelled,
And the swarms of moths are all destroyed.
Lust and other evils do not approach him
In whose heart bhakti abides.
It changes poison into nectar, enemies into friends.
Without this jewel, no one can find happiness.
With it, those terrible diseases of the mind
Which cause all living beings to suffer, have no power.
He whose heart contains the jewel of devotion to Ram
Does not suffer, even in dream, the slightest trace of any sorrow.
They are the wisest of the wise in this world
Who strive ceaselessly to attain this precious gem.
Yet though this jewel is manifest in the world,
No can find it without Ram’s grace.
There are easy ways to obtain it,
But luckless men reject them.
The Vedas and Puranas are sacred mountains,
And the legends of Ram their many glorious mines.
Good men are the miners, discernment their pickaxe,
And wisdom and dispassion their eyes, Uragari.
Anyone who searches for it with love,
Finds the jewel of bhakti, the source of all blessing.
My lord, I hold in my heart the firm conviction,
That one who serves Ram is greater than Ram himself.
Ram is the ocean, the good and the steadfast are the rainclouds;
Hari is the sandalwood tree, the pious are the breezes that spread its fragrance.
The fruit of all spiritual effort is firm devotion to Hari—
But no one has found it without the help of the saints.
Understanding this, he who seeks the company of saints,
Will find devotion to Ram easy to attain.
Brahm is the ocean, knowledge is Mount Mandar,
And the saints are the gods.
Ram’s story is the nectar they churn out
Sweetened by bhakti.
(120A)
With dispassion as its shield, and knowledge as its sword,
It is devotion to Hari that slays the enemies
That are pride, greed and attachment, and triumphs over them.
Reflect, O king of the birds, and see this for yourself.”
(120B)
Then the king of the birds affectionately replied,
“If you love me, gracious master,
Acknowledge me as your servant,
And answer these seven questions.
First tell me, my lord of steadfast mind,
What form is the most difficult to attain.
Next, consider and briefly explain to me,
What is the greatest suffering, and what the highest joy.
You know the essential qualities of the good and the bad,
So explain to me the inherent nature of both.
Tell me, what is the greatest virtue as declared by the Vedas,
And what the most dreadful sin.
Explain to me the diseases of the mind,
For you know all and are supremely compassionate.”
“Listen, my son, with attention and affection,
As I briefly explain these rules of morality.
There is no other form like that of man,
Every living creature, moving or unmoving, desires it.
It is the ladder to hell, to heaven, and to ultimate liberation,
And bestows upon one the blessings of wisdom, dispassion and devotion.
Those who have attained this form, yet do not worship Hari
But remain immersed in the lowest of low lustful pleasures,
Have thrown away the philosopher’s stone in their hands,
And are clutching at bits of glass instead.
There is no suffering in this world like poverty,
And no joy like communion with saints.
Helping others in thought, word, deed,
Is the innate nature of the good, O Garud.
The good endure pain for the benefit of others,
But the bad do so to give pain to others.
The good in their compassion are like the birch tree,10
Enduring the greatest suffering for the good of others.
But the bad, like hemp, to bind others,
Would have their skin removed and die in agony.
O destroyer of serpents, like snakes and rats,
The bad harm others without any purpose.
After ruining another’s prosperity, they themselves perish,
Like hailstones dissolve after destroying the crops.
The rise of the wicked brings sorrow to the world,
Like the rising of the infamous Ketu.
The rise of the good always results in happiness,
Like the rising of the moon and the sun bringing joy to the world.
Non-violence is the greatest virtue as declared by the Vedas,
And there is no sin like speaking ill of others, O Garud.
He who reviles Shankar or his guru is reborn as a frog,
And retains that body through a thousand births.
He who insults a Brahman endures countless hells,
And then is reborn in the world in the body of a crow.
Arrogant souls who scorn the gods and the Vedas
Fall into the lowest hell,
While those who disrespect the good are reborn as owls
Who love the night of ignorance and for whom the sun of wisdom has set.
Fools who revile everyone
Are reborn again as bats.
Now listen, dear son, to the diseases of the mind,
From which all people suffer pain.
Ignorance is the root of all ailments,
And from these arise many pains.
Lust is wind, infinite greed is phlegm,
And anger is bile constantly burning the chest.
Should these three humours combine,
There results a most terrible fever.
The various, unattainable, sensual cravings
Are the many illnesses, too numerous to name.
Attachment is a ringworm, envy an itch,
Joy and sorrow, swollen glands in the throat.
There is the wasting disease that is burning jealousy at another’s gain,
And the leprosy of wickedness and deceit.
Egoism is an excruciating pain in the joints,
While hypocrisy, dishonesty, vanity and pride are worms that infect the body.
There is the dropsy of ambition and avarice,
The dreadful ague of the threefold longing for sons, wealth and fame,
And the two fevers of selfishness and stupidity.
But why list all the many awful diseases?
Men die even of a single disease,
And these incurable diseases are many.
They constantly torment the soul,
So how can it find peace?
(121A)
There are countless different remedies—
Sacred vows an
d pious practice, abstract contemplation,
The pursuit of wisdom, the performance of sacrifices, prayer, almsgiving, and more—
But the diseases, O steed of Hari, do not yield.
(121B)
Thus every soul in the world is ill,
Suffering sorrow and joy, and fear and love and separation.
I have mentioned only some of the diseases of the mind—
They afflict all, but only a few are able to see them.
On being recognised, these tormentors of the faithful
Diminish, but are not completely destroyed.
If fed the unhealthy diet of sensual pleasure, they spring up
Even in the hearts of munis—so what can be said of mortal men?
All these diseases can be cured, if by Ram’s grace,
These factors come together:
Confidence in the words of a true guru as the physician,
And abstinence from sensual pleasures as the diet strictly followed.
Devotion to Raghupati is the life-giving herb,
And faith the channel through which it is administered.
If these factors unite, these diseases are easily cured;
Without them, all efforts are in vain.
Regard the mind free of disease, my lord,
Only when it gathers strength through detachment,
Its appetite for good sense increases every day,
And its weakness for sensual pleasures disappears.
When the mind then bathes in the clear waters of knowledge,
It is filled with devotion to Ram.
Shiv, Brahma, Shukdev, Sanak and his three brothers, Narad
And other sages practiced in the contemplation of the divine,
All hold this same opinion, lord of the birds,
That one must practise love for Ram’s lotus feet.
The Vedas, the Puranas and all the sacred books declare,
There can be no happiness without devotion to Raghupati.
Hair might grow upon a turtle’s shell,
The son of a barren woman kill,
Or flowers of all kinds bloom in the sky,
But a soul can find no happiness if it be hostile to Hari.
Thirst might be quenched by drinking water from a mirage,
Horns sprout from the head of a hare,
Or darkness overcome the sun,
But the soul can find no joy if it be turned away from Ram.
Fire may appear from snow,
But no one opposed to Ram can find peace.
Ghee might be churned from water,
Or oil squeezed from a stone,