by Roopa Pai
So the gods went to Speech, and said, ‘O Speech, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Speech chanted the Udgitha, thus gaining for the gods the great joy that comes from being able to say things. As for itself, Speech asked for the ability to say only what was pleasant, and received it. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this pleasant Udgatri*, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. ‘We can’t let that happen!’ So they rushed at Speech and pitted it with unpleasantness. And that is why we often say awful things.
*The Udgatri, or the priest who chanted the verses of the Sama Veda at the yagna (in this case, Speech), could ask for gifts both for the yajamana (in this case, the gods) and for himself. If the chanting was done right, both would receive the boons they desired.
With their first Udgatri gone, the gods went to Smell, and said. ‘O Smell, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Smell chanted the Udgitha, thus gaining for the gods the great joy that comes from being able to smell. As for itself, Smell asked for the ability to smell only what was agreeable, and received it. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this agreeable Udgatri, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. ‘We can’t let that happen!’ So they rushed at Smell and pitted it with disagreeable things. And that’s why we often smell things that make us screw up our noses.
With their second Udgatri gone, the gods went to Sight, and said. ‘O Sight, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Sight chanted the Udgitha, thus gaining for the gods the great joy that comes from being able to see. As for itself, Sight asked for the ability to see only what was beautiful, and received it. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this beauty-filled Udgatri, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. ‘We can’t let that happen!’ So they rushed at Sight and pitted it with ugliness. And that’s why we often see things that make us weep.
With their third Udgatri gone, the gods went to Hearing, and said. ‘O Hearing, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Hearing chanted the Udgitha, thus gaining for the gods the great joy that comes from being able to hear. As for itself, Hearing asked for the ability to hear only what was harmonious, and received it. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this calm Udgatri, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. ‘We can’t let that happen!’ So they rushed at Hearing and pitted it with disharmony. And that’s why we often hear things that make us anxious.
With their fourth Udgatri gone, the gods went to the Mind, and said. ‘O Mind, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Mind chanted the Udgitha, thus gaining for the gods the great joy that comes from being able to think. As for itself, Mind asked for the ability to think only good thoughts, and received it. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this righteous Udgatri, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. So they rushed at Mind and pitted it with evil. And that’s why we often have terrible thoughts.
The gods, now desperate, went to Prana, the lifebreath, and said. ‘O Breath, we beg you, chant the Udgitha for us at the yagna.’ Breath, without which there would be neither gods nor demons, chanted the Udgitha, and asked for nothing for itself. This threw the demons into a tizzy. ‘With this noble Udgatri, the gods’ yagna is sure to be a success,’ they said, wringing their hands. So they rushed at Breath and tried to pit it with all manner of vice.
But just as a clod of earth hurled against a rock smashes into bits and flies off in all directions, the demons who rushed at Breath were smashed to bits and destroyed. And that is how the gods won, and the demons were destroyed. Anyone who understands this – that the Breath is the only pure, true thing in the body, and meditates on it – crushes his demons and becomes one with his true Self.
***
Did you enjoy that story? It seems simple, even simplistic, a ‘repeating fable’ to keep a child entertained, but it is in fact, like every other story in the Upanishads, deeply symbolic, giving us plenty of food for thought.
From the story, it is clear that while the Upanishadic sages believed that the eyes, ears, nose and tongue were pure matter, part of the physical body, they thought very differently of Sight, Hearing, Speech and Smell. In fact, they gave these last the status of deities – deities who enabled the eyes to see, the ears to hear, the tongue to speak, and so on. It is also clear that the sages believed that these very same faculties, since they had all been infiltrated by demons,* were flawed, limited and not to be entirely trusted.
*And why were they infiltrated by demons? Because they all asked for the wrong boon – they asked to be able to see, hear, smell only what was pleasant, thereby creating room for what was ‘unpleasant’! It is only when you see certain things as pleasant or agreeable that other things, in comparison, become automatically unpleasant and disagreeable. This is really the core message of the Upanishads – there is no ‘other’. Joy is no different from sorrow, agony is no different from ecstasy, you are no different from Brahman. It is only your own delusion, the ’veil of Maya’, that prevents you from seeing that supreme truth.
Does that mean you cannot believe everything you see or hear? Of course it does! How can you seriously doubt that, living as we are in the age of fake news, where entire videos and sound bytes can be doctored and turn normally gentle people into lynch mobs? But the sages were not talking about the deviousness of 21st century technology in the Upanishads; their beliefs stemmed from something far more basic.
Say you see two schoolmates fighting. Your mind and heart turn instantly against the one whom you see as giving the other a hard time. Sure, our first instinct is to root for the underdog, but it is right or fair to take a stand like that without finding out more? How can you be sure that what you can see and hear at the current moment is all there is to the story? Can your eyes ‘see’ and your ears ‘hear’ the backstory – the circumstances that have led to this showdown? Even the mind, the sages tell us, has been defiled by the demons, and we can agree – the mind is also influenced hugely by our own personal experiences and biases, and therefore cannot be trusted.
What then, can we trust? How can we make sure that we see people and situations with compassion, clarity and true understanding, and are not swayed by what our senses tell us and what our mind wilfully nudges us towards? By disciplining the senses using the reins of the Mind, which are held by the charioteer called Understanding. One great way to do that, according to sages of every stripe, is the practice of meditation. And the best way to ease your way into meditation, so the ancients tell us, is to close your eyes, shut the world out and bring the entire focus of your attention to your – ta-daa! – breath.
For while the senses are not only unreliable but dispensable,* and are withdrawn into the mind in sleep (with the mind itself being withdrawn into the breath in deep sleep), the breath, as long as a man lives, is constant, steadfast and true, never forsaking him, whether he is awake, dreaming, or in deep sleep. What’s more, it does not influence, question or judge a man’s decisions; it is simply the silent witness to them. To the Vedantins, who equated Brahman with that which was unchanging, everlasting and dispassionate in the cosmos, the breath was the perfect metaphor for the Brahman within the body.
*Remember the story in the Prashna Upanishad where the senses are bragging about how each of them is the greatest, until Prana makes as if to leave the body and all the senses find themselves being dragged out in its wake? The story is repeated in the BU – here, Prana leaving the body is described thus: ‘As a great horse pulls up the stakes to which it is tethered when it breaks free, so does Prana uproot all the other senses when it leaves the body.’ What a powerful image, don’t you think?
How can you get started on your own journey to true understanding? By taking a step back and examining a situation thoroughly before jumping to conclusions. By listening with an open mind and heart to both – or all fifteen – si
des of a story before you decide who is right and who isn’t (or even that no one side is entirely right or entirely wrong at all). By reflecting on every opinion you are about to express, to examine it for your own ends and biases – are you blaming one person over another because one of them is your friend or someone you want to impress, or are you crucifying someone simply on the basis of his or her past behaviour? By not letting yourself be influenced by your emotions – anger, fear, hate, love. That is how you crush your demons and nourish your gods, both of whom live within you.
And can you guess what would really help you do all of the above? Exactly! Taking several deep, calming breaths!
So that’s where it comes from! – A most familiar verse from the BU
Below, reported as it is written, is part of the twenty-eighth paragraph of the third Brahmana of the first adhyaya of the BU. You don’t need to remember all that, but as you read, enjoy the goosebumps from realizing that a Sanskrit verse you have heard or sung, perhaps with no understanding of it, has been chanted by people for almost 3,000 years! The nicest part? It is addressed to no particular god! You can invoke your own favourite god when you recite it, or simply call upon the cosmic energy that pervades the universe to light your way in life.
Now comes the chanting of the mantras for purification. When the priest of the Sama Veda sings the introductory verses of the Saman, the yajamana of the sacrifice must silently recite to himself these three verses from the Yajur Veda:
Asato maa sad gamaya
Tamaso maa jyotir gamaya
Mrityor maa-amritam gamaya
From the unreal (asat), lead me to the real (sat),
From darkness (tamas), lead me to the light (jyoti),
From death (mrityu), lead me to immortality.
The unreal, verily, is death, and the real is immortality, so when the yajamana says, ‘Lead me from the unreal to the real’, what he really means is, ‘Lead me from death to immortality!’ or, in other words, ‘Make me immortal!
Darkness is death, and light is immortality, so when he says, ‘Lead me from the darkness to the light’, what he really means is, ‘Lead me from death to immortality’, or, in other words, ‘Make me immortal!
The third line reads ‘Lead me from death to immortality’, and there is nothing obscure about that.
Simple, straightforward and radiant, the prayer – often referred to as the Pavamana Mantra or the Chant of Purification – asks not for wealth or fame or health or happiness, but enlightenment – a mind that sees clearly, an intellect that is able to distinguish between right and wrong, an awareness that is illumined by true understanding. Seriously, what greater treasures exist on earth and in Heaven than these?
PS: Do you know where else you might have heard this mantra? It was part of the soundtrack of the third and final film of a smash-hit, cult, sci-fi Hollywood movie franchise! The first of the three movies in the franchise released in 1999, the second and third in 2003. Do you know its name? That’s right! The movie franchise was The Matrix, and the third film, in which this mantra features, was The Matrix Revolutions!
The Matrix movies, written and directed by the Wachowski Brothers (today, after having transitioned into women, they are known simply as the Wachowskis), were path-breaking in many ways, including for their many references to philosophical and religious ideas from all over the world.
You can hear Asato Maa being chanted (though in a very different way from its traditional chanting) when the end credits of Revolutions begin to roll. The rest of the song of which this mantra is the chorus also contains mantras from three other Upanishads – the Isha, the Kena and the Katha.
In fact, the core concept of the film’s plot is that the reality that humans believe is real is only a simulated reality called The Matrix, created by intelligent machines – if that reminds you of the core concept of Vedanta, which says that the reality that humans believe is real is only an illusion called Maya, you are not alone. Also, much of the film revolves around the waking, dreaming and deep- sleep states, which makes one wonder if the writers were inspired by the Mandukya Upanishad!
The Big Fat Secret the gods don’t want you to discover
Like most other Upanishads, a lot of the BU is constructed as a dialogue between teacher and student. Sometimes, the teacher and student are identified. More often, the ‘dialogue’ becomes a conversation between the narrator and the reader, with the narrator himself asking questions that the reader might have wanted to, and then going on to answer them. This is one such dialogue.
‘Right. Let’s say I take your word for it that a man will become whole, infinite, realized, by knowing Brahman. That begs the question – “What did Brahman himself/herself/itself know that enabled it to become Brahman?’’
‘Good question! You see, in the beginning, when there was only Brahman and no one else, Brahman thought to itself, “Aham Brahmasmi – I am Brahman”, and that very self-awareness made it whole, infinite, self-realized. The same thing happened to the gods who came after. When they realized who and what they really were, they said, wonderingly, to themselves, “Aham Brahmasmi – I am Brahman,” and became whole. It is the same among the wisest seers, and among ordinary humans too. The moment a man realizes “Aham Brahmasmi – I am Brahman”, he becomes the whole universe. Not even the gods can do anything about it then, for he becomes them!
‘If a man bows before another deity, however, saying “He is one, I am another,” then he doesn’t get it at all. As men use cattle and sheep for their own ends, thus do the gods use such men for their own ends. Knowing how painful it is for a man to lose even a single head of cattle, imagine how much more painful for the gods to lose even one such man!
‘And that’s why the gods are not at all happy with the prospect of men getting to know this ultimate truth, this great secret – Aham Brahmasmi.’
***
Aham Brahmasmi – I am Brahman – is considered the fourth of the Great Pronouncements – or Mahavakyas – of the Upanishads. It is also, along with Tat Tvam Asi, the best known of the Mahavakyas. But is that all it means? How can you get Aham Brahmasmi into your day-to-day life?
The answer lies in the very first lines of the answer above. ‘Brahman thought to himself “I am Brahman”, and he was.’
A story with two endings illustrates this rather well.
Version 1: An anxious student approached his teacher and asked him, ‘Do you think I can achieve this (task)?’ Like every good teacher, this one too turned the question right back at the student – ‘What do you think?’ The student pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think I can.’ The teacher smiled. ‘There’s your answer. You cannot (achieve the task).’
Version 2: An anxious student approached his teacher and asked him, ‘Do you think I can achieve this (task)?’ Like every good teacher, this one too turned the question right back at the student – ‘What do you think?’ The student pondered for a moment. ‘I think I can.’ The teacher smiled. ‘There’s your answer. You can.’
The moral of the story is clear enough. It is your own self-belief (or lack of it) that makes things possible (or not). Believe that you are whole, complete in yourself, content in yourself, that you have no need for validation or approval from anyone else (or a god outside of you, like the misguided man in the story) and you will be whole, you will be Brahman – it’s as simple as that!
But, be warned, says the BU, the gods will try their best to foil your attempts at self-realization. They will put in your way the demons of fear, self-doubt, guilt, weariness, all of which will weaken your will and make you say ‘I don’t think I can’ – for if they did not, who would go to them asking for solace and strength, and offer them coconuts and prayers and gold? Who would they then send scurrying to temples and other places of worship?
But, say the Upanishads, if you stay strong, and disciplined, and focused, and give your hundred per cent to everything you do, treating your work as a great sacrifice that you are performing for the good of the universe,
and expect nothing in return for it – sooner or later, the veil of Maya will fall away, and you will discover that you contain everything you need – love, strength, peace, contentment – within yourself. Brahman will bloom within you, luminous and radiant, and the universe will resound with the joy of your discovery – Aham Brahmasmi!
ADHYAYA 2
Not all the treasures of the world – A conversation between Maitreyi and Yagnavalkya
Once, the great sage Yagnavalkya sat his wife Maitreyi down beside him and said to her, ‘Maitreyi, I have completed my responsibilities as a householder and it is time for me to move on to the next stage in my life.* I want to spend more time henceforth in reflection and contemplation, and I will not be able to stay here much longer. But before I go, I want to divide all that I have between you and Katyayini.’
*According to the ancient Indian texts, human life is divided into four age-based phases or stages, called ashramas. Each ashrama has recommended activities and pursuits, combining into a ’complete’ experience through a lifetime.
For the first twenty-four years of his life (in today’s terms, approximately until he finishes a Master’s degree), a young man is expected to focus entirely on his education. He is expected to remain single and not be distracted by romantic relationships. (Plus, no smartphones.) This is the student stage, or the Brahmacharya Ashrama.
For the next twenty-four years, until the age of forty-eight, a man is expected to live in the larger community – finding a job, getting married, educating his children, taking care of his parents and contributing to society in whatever way he can. This is the busiest, most productive stage of a man’s life, when he works to sustain both the generation before and after him, and raise worthy children to sustain the community in the future. This is the householder stage, or the Grihastha Ashrama.