My Sweet Lord

Only sometime back, a learned, a little eccentric but very much lovable cousin of mine exclaimed that the celebrated saint Narsi Mehta was not really a saint. Though used to him springing verbal surprises now and then, the comment on Narsi Mehta became all the more difficult to digest when one considered that the commentator was someone who fancied himself a devout Hindu. Prodded for reason, my cousin had a simple explanation – A saint does not ask anything from God. But Narsi Mehta disturbed Krishna frequently, sometimes making Him come down as Shyamal Das to pay off his debt or to make him come with Maayro for his daughter. How could a person, who ‘used’ God so materially, be a true saint?

Frankly, while I try to see merit in what my cousin had to say, my empathy for his thoughts stops with my belief that there can be no one way to approach Him. While Loving God for His own sake is arguably one of the highest forms of devotion, such selfless Love is more aspirational than real for the layman. 

With passage of time, what was once new becomes integral and at times, memories of yore get erased altogether. For the practising Hindu, who takes joy in the tales of Shabari’s berries or upholding of Draupadi’s honour, it may be slightly jarring to realise and accept that none of these tales, which entail God with the warmest human qualities, formed part of the original epics. Valmiki Ramayana only mentions that Shabari treated Rama & Lakshmana as venerable guests. The heart touching tale of Rama consuming her half eaten berries form a part of narrative in the Padma Purana, which was a much later creation. Likewise, the critical edition of Mahabharata has Draupadi’s honour being saved through a miracle, i.e., a saree once removed was replaced with another saree. Here, Draupadi had appealed to the higher powers, throwing her hands open in the skies and the skies had responded. Her heart rending appeal of Krishna and His making the saree become endless is but a later edition.

Iravati Karwe in her authoritative tomes, have cast doubts over the existence of Bhagvad Gita as a single text. Contending that the nature of the first six chapters are radically different from the later twelve, she argues that while the former gel with overall narrative of the Mahabharata, the latter are only later additions, put by proponents of Bhakti. 

Prof Karwe and many others seem to have little sympathy for Bhakti as an emotion for they contend that Bhakti transferred the onus of activity from self to God and by default, promoted fatalism and a passive avoidance of assertive activity. Prof Karwe outlines the achievements made in the Vedic era and contrasts them with the saga of defeats and compromises made in the medieval ages and tacitly holds preponderance of Bhakti for the passivity of the Indian people.

While the facts presented by Prof Karwe could be incontrovertible, the conclusions may only be partly true. Bhakti as a philosophy in India gained prominence in the North with the formal composition of various Puranas around the Gupta reign and with the devotional outpourings of the 12 Vaishnava Alwars and 63 Shaiva Nayanars, in the Southern parts of the country, around 7^th-8^th century CE.

But what could have caused this later development of Hinduism?

Going back to the hoary past looking for answers in Vedic literature, one is stuck by the societal obsession with maintaining order. A king had to uphold dharma so that it could rain on time, sacrifices had to be performed so that the gods could bless with grains, cows and sons, offerings had to be made so that the gods could become powerful enough to bless! Truly, while awe and devotion to the heavenly powers are all pervading in the Vedas, it could seem that many a times, the relation between gods and humans was transactional. If the humans did not perform sacrifices on time, the gods would lose power and the danavas would gain. And if the gods became weaker, the humans would suffer in form of draught and poverty. It is not very difficult to visualise as to why did the Vedic religion lost the laity’s attraction gradually. A religion, whose abstract metaphysics, while rich, became but a preserve of a few and the religion in practice, was seen as an agglomeration of rituals designed to uphold the cosmic order. An order so grand in scale that an individual could hardly visualise his role in it. The God became a distant deity, one to be feared and appeased, one who was too far removed to condone human frailties and embrace the shunned and the weak.

The gap which the Vedic literature could not fill was sought to be filled by our epics. Valmiki Ramayana was among the earliest texts which enumerated the merits of Bhakti and detailed how could a devotee attain God in various ways. Soon after, Puranas were composed, making God achievable through simple acts of śravaṇa (listening), kīrtana (group praising), smaraṇa (remembrance), seva (service), Archana (deity worship), vandana (Prayer), dāsya (servitude), sākhya (friendship), and ātma-nivedana (self-surrender).

If the scriptures themselves certify that even devotional love could be of so many varieties, how can we, as lesser mortals proclaim that one mode of worship is superior to the other?

Rationalists and atheists will of course argue that Religion and God are but inventions of a lost, weak and insecure human mind. Even if for arguments sake, we accept this contention as true, what difference does it make? I can be a witness to truth only the way I see it. And I can see God and His work manifest in countless forms all around. What need then I have to acquiesce to the ‘rational’ when it doesn’t make any sense to me?

While many sociologists and thinkers have tried to explain devotion as an ersatz relationship for a great loss / shortcoming in life, the view seems too cynical and uninformed. While it is true that a beaten soul tries to find solace in God, there are numerous instances where, the most materially blessed are into Him as much as a wandering mendicant is. Even for people, who strive to find God to make up for a loss, how could their devotion be any lesser? If even the rationalist looks towards his friends and family for succour when beaten, why would the one in trouble not approach Him, the only one who is all embracing, all loving and all forgiving.

We, the Hindus have often been accused of being very materialistic even with regards to our love for God, i.e., our prayers and hymns are full of demands on Gods. While that is true, what could be more shocking for the puritans is the acceptability of abuse as a form of worship! Though dying out now, even a few decades back, the devout was not above engaging in Ninda Stuti, abusing God for the blessings he did not shower. While scandalising for many, it does make sense. My personal God is the one with whom I have multiple connections; of a child, a friend, a parent, a lover, a servant and even a master (God being the dasa of the Bhakta). If endowed with so much of power, it would be foolish not to exercise it and remind God of his duties towards me!

Then, what wrong did poor Narsi Mehta commit? Even more in his defence, he did not even ask for anything from his Krishna. And if Krishna gave of His own will, how could Narsi Mehta refuse? J

On a more serious note, who in his senses, having even once drunk the nectar of His Grace, would not want to be a Rabia and proclaim:

"O God! If I worship You for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell,

and if I worship You in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise.
But if I worship You for Your Own sake,
grudge me not Your everlasting Beauty.”

Or be a Raskhan and cry aloud:

“Make me but a cowherd of Gokul, if I were to be born a human again,

A cow in Nand’s herds, if am to be an animal

If I were to be a lifeless stone only, be it a stone of the mountain you held aloft

I will become a bird, if that be your wish, my Lord. Let me then dwell on but a little branch, of Your Kadamba on the banks of Your Kalindi.”

I do not aspire to be a Karraikkal Amma who climbed Kailasha on her head to see You; I do not desire to be a Meera who left everything behind to be with You; I cannot dare to be like Akka Mahadevi, who in her blissful state, discarded even her robes; nay, I cannot be like any of those whose tales make us believe that You are achievable. Without Your Grace, I cannot even move a step on the path to achieve You.  Allow me that much of Grace, O Lord, that when I think of You, I think of only You and no one but You.