The Blazing Trident

Chapter 1: Last Days in Varanasi

"Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together."

Mark Twain, the celebrated American novelist, has aptly described in these words the ancient city of Benaras or Kashi or the modern day Varanasi - three different names for a truly unique city. Situated on the western bank of the holy Ganges, Kashi is believed to be the oldest inhabited city in the world. The city has always occupied a place of highest veneration in Hindu consciousness, associated as it is with giving ‘moksha’ or liberation from the endless cycles of birth and death if the last rites of a departed soul are performed in Kashi. It is thus no wonder that Lord Shiva, the Destroyer of death in Hindu religion, is the presiding deity of the city with most of the two thousand temples of Kashi dedicated to that Great God.

While the Hindus have always held Varanasi in the highest esteem but the place is equally respected by people from other religions too. It is believed that Lord Buddha visited Kashi about twenty five centuries ago and thus the city is equally venerable for the Buddhists too. In more recent times the great saint Kabir, who resided in Varanasi a few hundred years ago, was revered by both the Hindus and the Moslems. Given the rich spiritual heritage of the city and its timeless nature, a question has always arisen with respect to its’ age. A staunch Hindu firmly believes that Kashi came into existence at the beginning of creation itself but historians point out that the city dates back to only the sixth century BC or roughly about three thousand years ago.

This classic conflict between belief and history is aptly summarized by the city of Kashi itself which has evidence of both. Thus, on the one hand, there is the Vishnu Charanpaduka and the Manikarnika Kund, two of the most holy places of Kashi as both have legends associated with them dating back to the dawn of time; on the other hand there are the nearly eighty-four bathing ghats of the city which were constructed only a few hundred years ago. I believe it would be impossible for anyone including myself, born and brought up in the Kashi of the late nineteenth century, to ever know its complete history.

I, Sister Sarvpriya, reside in the "Rani Padmavati Monastery", a centuries-old monastery for women located in this timeless city. The monastery came into existence in the sixteenth century when the then King of Kashi, the chivalrous Raja Chandrabhan Maurya, established this long-standing institution in the fond memory of his saintly queen, Rani Padmavati. Legend goes that the queen, an ascetic by nature who shunned the comforts of palace life, had received initiation into sannyasa from a deathless Guru. The courageous queen had persevered on the spiritual path and finally attained moksha - freedom from re-birth and from the karmic cycle.

The monastery initially accommodated women from royal households only but was subsequently made available to all womenfolk who sought God sincerely. The magnanimous king established a substantial corpus in order to remove the monastery’s reliance on outside sources of funds. Nevertheless, we still receive liberal donations from royal households and wealthy families from all over the country who wish to contribute in keeping alive the country’s highest traditions of tyaga and sannyasa - more so at times like these when India is under foreign occupation!

Located atop a small hill by the banks of the Ganges, The Rani Padmavati Monastery is a colossal, four-storied structure resting on gigantic pillars. Chunar rock, used in erstwhile days for building of forts, has been used extensively in the construction of the monastery thus giving the entire structure the appearance of a magnificent castle. The abbey is spacious and well-maintained, equipped with three hundred rooms for the accommodation of resident nuns. The rooms are simply furnished and large enough to allow easy circulation of fresh air and sunshine. In stark contrast to the sober furniture in the living quarters, the balconies and the common rooms are dotted with several quaint, western-style chairs and tables - a subtle reminder of the British occupation of this great nation!

The balconies on the upper floors are wide and they face a large courtyard from three sides. The verandahs also offer an excellent view of the monastery’s lush gardens which are laden with jack-fruit, mango and plantain trees. The trees not only provide ample shade for the residents but also help to keep the massive Chunar structure cool during the hot summers of Varanasi. But doubtless, the most endearing section for all residents is the monastery’s commodious hall located on the ground floor. The hall, typically used for the purpose of discourses and group singing, has a fair sprinkling of devotees at all times who can be seen absorbed in meditation or offering their prayers to the Supreme Mother whose eight-armed idol adorns the altar within the hall.

The calm and peaceful environs of the monastery is at an odd variance with the tumult in the outside world which is engaged in a ghastly war right now. Although we residents remain largely unaffected by the events outside but the external world, the one that we all left behind with great determination, compellingly reminds us of its’ presence whenever we meet a sister nun who is still mourning the loss of a dear one - either due to the world war or due to some injustice of the British.

It is often said that one does not take to the path of God till the time one has gone through all earthly experiences - from a king to a beggar! My own journey in becoming a nun was not without its highs and lows. Born in the devout city of Kashi, my family belonged to a wealthy line of gemstone traders. For generations my ancestors had been dealing in jewels and diamonds, from the priceless to the semi-precious. Our clientele were spread all over the country and comprised of princely kingdoms, the nobility and now, high-ranking officers of the British East India Company.

My father inherited the family set-up. A serious businessman at work, he was the epicenter of all laughter and merriment at home. Father was fond of indulging his children with expensive gifts which he often purchased on business trips to other parts of the country. Mother, who belonged to a noble family of nearby Ayodhya, was a pious lady and a strict disciplinarian - one who was not even afraid to scold father if she found him overindulging his children!

I was the fourth child of my parents and their only daughter amongst six off-springs - especially cared for and pampered more than my other siblings! Both my parents were of a modern outlook and believed in imparting the best education to all their children. At a time in India when girls were married in their teen years, my parents not only encouraged me to complete school but also to secure a bachelor’s degree from one of the best colleges in the country.

My marriage, although formalized with another gemstone family of Kashi, never materialized. The groom was waylaid by dacoits and robbed of all the precious booty he was carrying while on the way back to Varanasi from one of his business trips. The groom’s family took this as an omen of ‘ill-luck’ that the would-be bride would bring along with her and called off the wedding. Word soon got around in the city that I was a harbinger of bad-luck and many families, who were earlier keen to have me as their daughter-in-law, suddenly expressed their regret in going ahead with the marriage proposal.

My parents were heartbroken at this unexpected turn of events but I took this as a sign from God that my path lay elsewhere. Since early childhood I had nurtured only two desires: first, to seek God and second, to help father in his business. Hence when my marriage arrangement lapsed I expressed my wish to father to assist him in his business. My parents discussed this matter at length and finally I received their consent.

I soon learnt the intricacies of the diamond business and started accompanying father and my eldest brother on their business trips. Over time they too came to rely on my trade skills and I was assigned greater responsibilities in the business. For the next several years I enjoyed working as part of the family establishment. During this time father would frequently broach the subject of my marriage but somehow I never met anyone of compatible interests. My parents too never forced me to marry someone of their choice and allowed me to pursue my passion for gemstones - all this at a time when women had a second-class status in our society!

Mysterious are the ways of God. Just as my life was coasting along that it once again took an unpredictable turn. The trigger was the demise of both my parents in quick succession. Father returned from work one evening and complained of a severe pain in the chest. The family physician was hurriedly called but he too could not avert the inevitable as by that time father had already succumbed to a massive heart attack. Mother too did not live for long thereafter and passed away silently in her sleep one night. The loss of both my parents left me broken hearted and I did not pursue the family business anymore. Years of meditation had intensified my desire for God and this is the path that I now wished to follow with single-minded determination.

I was well aware of the Rani Padmavati Monastery and its’ spiritual lineage. Over the hundreds of years that the monastery had been in existence it had acquired the reputation of a place of God; an institution where one could, despite being a woman, seek God in silence and in safety. My application for joining the convent too was accepted in quick time. In the meanwhile I informed my brothers of my decision to renounce the world and take up sannyasa.

Amongst all my relatives I was closest to Shobha, the wife of my eldest brother and my erstwhile classmate at school. With her striking blue-eyes and a fair complexion, Shobha resembled a Victorian princess herself! Friendship between the two of us had been instant when we first met in school and now, even though we were sisters-in-law, our deep bond of friendship had remained intact. Thus on coming to know of my plan to become a nun, Shobha had tearfully insisted that I continue staying with the family.

Sad had been our parting and I still miss her.

It is a law of God that whosoever is born on Earth has to depart one day. This process of departure is called ‘death’ by those of us who are as yet unaware of our soul identity but verily, the soul is immortal. Just as a person’s identity remains unchanged due to a change of clothes, so does the deathless soul continue to exist unchanged across endless incarnations. At the time of death the soul continues its onward journey to the astral world and in due course of time, as per the soul’s karmic blueprint, is born again in a new place and in a new body.

In keeping with God’s laws, as my time of departure too approached, I mysteriously acquired a throat infection which worsened progressively. Alarmed at my deteriorating health, the monastery administration made repeated requests for shifting me to a hospital. Knowing these to be my last days, I refused all such requests and made an ever greater effort to keep my thoughts concentrated on God alone.

Chapter 2: Curtain Falls…Rises Again

My health continued its’ downward slide as the prescribed medicines did not have the desired effect. Doctors diagnosed my ailment as throat cancer, of an advanced stage, and accordingly informed the monastery administration that my time was limited. Then, on one particular night, my cough became terribly worse. I knew the final hour was near. Sister Nivedita, my young attendant, poured some drops of the sanctified Ganges water in my mouth. In these last moments my entire life, like so many images in slow motion, was passing by in front of my eyes. My mind was at peace as I had been able to live a life of my choice but one regret still remained - that I would be leaving this body without having attained my goal of God-Realization.

Divine Mother, please bless that I can succeed in the future in reaching you. With this soulful prayer on my lips, I thrice chant the sacred ‘AUM’ and give up my mortal frame.

………………….

………………….

I see myself floating as a bright spark of light. Pitch darkness surrounds me from all the sides. As I float around in that dark pool of nothingness I become aware of my own boundless nature, my soul expanded in the vast cosmos of God. Ironically I was striving to achieve this vastness while in my earthly form but never experienced the same. Death seemed to have set me free in God.

In the distance I see a bright source of light and helplessly I start floating towards it. The closer I float towards that sparkling source of light, the brighter it becomes. Finally I find myself in front of that enigmatic source - a gigantic Trident, shining gloriously in that dark void, sending forth an unending stream of dazzling yellow light. I, the tiny spark, find myself bathed in that shimmering stream of effulgence - warmer than the glow of countless suns yet cooler than the radiance of countless moons!!!

I continue facing the Trident. Remarkably, my involuntary floating has also ceased. The Trident, as a symbol of the Supreme Power, is exerting a powerful pull on me to float further and merge my identity in it. But try as I might I’m unable to advance any further - a mysterious force is preventing me from moving any closer to the Trident. All of a sudden a thought arises from deep within my consciousness: I’m not yet free to merge in God, my past karma still binds me; to attain God I must dissolve my karmic ties.

With the dawn of this realization, my yearning for God increases further and further till the time it becomes unbearable.

I pray to God to put an end to my agony and almost immediately I find myself floating away from the luminous sphere of the Trident. Visible before me is the form of a still-born baby and an unknown powerful force gently guides me to settle down within that form.

I lose all awareness….

I regain consciousness and find myself in the arms of a gentle lady. She is very simple and has the most tender, motherly expression on her face. I’m puzzled, not able to understand where I am. I recall floating in a region of light, one that was filled with utmost peace and calmness. I also recall my intense longing for God. Utterly confused, I call out to God for help but all I hear is a loud wail coming out of my tiny mouth. On hearing my cry, several other, smiling faces surround me. One particular gentleman is looking fondly at me. He too has the most affectionate look in his eyes. As he tries to gather me in his arms, I feel scared and start crying out once again. I’m also feeling very hungry. With all my might, I again call out to God.

All this effort tires me out and I lose consciousness once again.

In the days that followed, I found myself ‘adapting’ to my new environment. During sleep I would see vivid scenes from times long gone by. When awake, I would find myself in the tender arms of the affectionate lady whom I initially saw when I had first opened my eyes. Over time I came to realize that she is my mother. Gradually, I became used to hearing the Hindi dialect but my inability to express myself or even to walk about freely was a source of great embarrassment for me. These and other childhood humiliations made me seek recourse to God from time to time.

My parents loved me very much and I was the cynosure of their eyes. Being their only child, I was the recipient of their boundless love and affection. Endless were the varieties of toys that my parents would bring for me to play with but instead, found me drawn towards God and His worship. I would often crawl to my mother’s prayer room and sit before the idol of the Divine Mother installed there. The past was still etched vividly on my consciousness and sitting in front of the idol, I would pray to the Cosmic Mother to rescue my ship from the deep waters of a worldly life. Before long, my earthly mother would come searching for me and carry me away in her tender arms.

Both my parents were firm believers in God. They understood that the Supreme resided in all beings and in serving others they served God only. Thus, father would donate generously towards social causes such as child education and maintenance of old-age homes while mother would often give alms to the poor. In all the years that I spent with my parents, I never saw any needy person return empty handed from our home.

On one occasion, it so happened that a hungry person came to our house and begged for something to eat. Mother and I were playing together in the lawn of our home and all my toys were scattered around. Seeing the needy person, mother went inside the house to get some eatables. In the meantime I picked up my favourite toy - a generously stuffed teddy bear - and started to offer it to that person. Taken aback, he kept refusing to take the toy but I kept insisting that he take it! His refusal came as a ‘disappointment’ and I started to cry. Hearing my cries, mother came out from inside the house and saw me offering the toy. Laughingly she gathered me in her arms and gave some food to the person. From that day onwards mother fondly started calling me bholuram, the innocent one.

One day I saw mother doing her daily prayers in the prayer room. She was reading the ‘Sundarkand’, a series of prayers sung in the praise of Lord Hanuman, who, along with Lord Rama, is one of the principal heroes of the Hindu epic Ramayana. In India it is a traditional practice to recite the Sundarkand, written in the local Awadhi dialect, as a harbinger of auspiciousness and well-being.

The prayers somehow appeared familiar to me so I toddled inside the prayer room and quietly sat by mother’s side, listening intently to the recitation. Then, to the utter surprise of mother, as well as to my surprise too, I flawlessly started to recite the prayers along with mother!

Mother, completely taken aback, stopped the recitation in between and started to look at me in amazement. For a three-year old child, who does not have a proper grasp of even her own mother tongue, to perfectly recite the prayers written in a local dialect and that too without even once referring to the book, was an act that left mother completely bewildered. Anyhow, mother continued with the prayers as it is deemed inauspicious to break the recitation in between.

On completion of the recitation, mother, unable to contain her excitement any longer, immediately took me on her lap and affectionately asked me as to where I learned such perfect recitation of the holy prayers from. A long silence followed as I searched for an answer. All this while mother kept looking at me curiously. Her dark eyes, their full gaze riveted at me, reflected her unease at this most unexpected feat of her three year old daughter.

The recitation of the prayers was a spontaneous act on my part and I too did not have a clear answer as to how it all happened. On the screen of my mind there flashed some visions from times long gone by and I managed to mumble a reply. Although my incoherent explanation did not satisfy mother but thankfully, she left it at that and hugged me once again.

A few days after this incident another surprising event took place. Only this time, it was father’s turn to be astonished!

There used to be a Chess Club in our locality and father, quite fond of the sport, would occasionally visit the club to play a game or two with his friends. Father was keen that I too learn the game and on one of his visits to the club, he decided to take his ‘little doll’ along with him.

Let her pick up the basics from an early age; this is how champions are born! father had proudly declared.

Mother dressed me in new a frock for the occasion, combed my somewhat longish hair into a braid and applied mascara in my eyes. Holding on to my father’s finger, I walked the small distance from our house to the club.

It was an unusually warm afternoon of the Delhi winter. Being a Sunday, all the player’s tables were packed and chess games were in different stages of progress. We heard a loud applause from one of the playing tables and father explained that one of the players had given a checkmate, to his opponent, that is, he had won the game. As father searched for a vacant table, Mr.Radhey Shyam called out to father and invited him over to his own table for a game of chess.

Mr.Radhey Shyam, President of the club, was a player of formidable chess skills. He enjoyed an enviable record at the club level - an unbeaten streak that stretched over twenty years! Although father himself was no novice at the game but his chess skills were no match for those of Mr.Radhey Shyam’s and as the game between the two of them progressed, I could make out from the tense look on my father’s face that things were not going his way.

After some time it became clear that father’s opponent was assured of a win as some members of the club, gathered around our table, started congratulating Mr. Shyam in advance. Seeing the despondent expression on father’s face, I ardently prayed to God for his victory. To my wonder, as I completed my prayer, I heard a very clear voice within me, directing me to the next move that father should play.

I whispered this inner guidance in father's ear. Mr.Radhey Shyam, who saw me murmuring, was naturally inquisitive as to what his friend’s little daughter had to say at this last stage of the match. He asked father what it was that I had whispered in his ear and father honestly replied that I had suggested a move on the board that he should play. At these words, Mr. Shyam broke out into a boisterous laughter. Jokingly he warned father to not pay heed to a toddler’s ‘advise’ or else he may end up losing the match even earlier than anticipated!

Observing father’s reluctance to go with my suggestion, I tugged at his shirt. This made him look at me. I guess the solemn expression on my face finally convinced him that the suggestion had been made in all seriousness and he went ahead and played the move that I had whispered in his ear.

The play by father had the immediate effect of putting his opponent in deep thought and after a few minutes he too played his move. Again, I clearly heard the inner voice that instructed me to the next step. Once again, I whispered this information in father’s ear and this time he played the move without any hesitation. Now, it took his opponent even longer than earlier to respond.

By this time, Mr.Radhey Shyam’s earlier confidence had evaporated and his eye-brows were knitted in deep concentration. The crowd too had fallen silent at this unexpected turn-around and all were intently watching the match. Players at other tables also sensed that history could be made that day - the club President, the unassailable champion, losing a match for the first time in decades!

All other tables became empty as players left their matches midway and crowded around us. The process of father’s opponent making a move and then I, based on the inner guidance, whispering the response in father’s ear, went on for some more time. With each move that father played, his expression became more cheerful while that of his opponent became more despondent.

Finally, the end came for Mr.Radhey Shyam. Unable to find an appropriate response to a move played by father, he threw up his arms in resignation and acknowledged defeat.

For a moment there was a stunned silence in the gathering, soon followed by a thunderous applause. Mr.Radhey Shyam himself was graceful in defeat. He warmly embraced father and congratulated him profusely for the victory. Father too beamed with smiles at his astonishing feat. He lifted me up in his arms and unreservedly gave me all credit for the victory.

Seeing the happiness on my father’s face, I repeatedly thanked God for His timely intervention.

On our way home, father was naturally thrilled at his seminal victory. He wished to share the joy at the earliest with mother and so we walked back home at double the pace at which we had come. Then suddenly, father remembered the turning point in the game and we paused mid-step:

"My child, you are a champion. And to think that I brought you here so that you could pick-up the basics! Father exclaimed excitedly.

Father’s excitement could be understood. Given how the events had unfolded that day at the club, he very likely saw his child as a chess prodigy now! Nevertheless, not wanting father to harbor any wrong expectations, I told him the truth: that on seeing him sad, I had prayed to God for His intervention and that it was God only who had instructed me on all the moves that should be played.

Father remained silent at my reply but he was clearly unconvinced at the explanation given for his startling victory. Although father was a firm believer in the Almighty but he obviously doubted the fact that God does respond to heartfelt prayers, even if they be made for an apparently trivial thing like winning a game of chess!

On reaching home, father enthusiastically recounted to mother the entire sequence of events at the club that day. Mother was dumbstruck as she heard the entire account from father.