Autobiography of a Yogi
them, and cause only sorrow and vexation, with which every poor
mortal is fully fraught. As for me, I lie upon the forest leaves,
and having nothing which requires guarding, close my eyes in tranquil
slumber; whereas had I anything to guard, that would banish sleep.
The earth supplies me with everything, even as a mother her child
with milk. I go wherever I please, and there are no cares with
which I am forced to cumber myself.
“Should Alexander cut off my head, he cannot also destroy my soul.
My head alone, then silent, will remain, leaving the body like
a torn garment upon the earth, whence also it was taken. I then,
becoming Spirit, shall ascend to my God, who enclosed us all in
flesh and left us upon earth to prove whether, when here below,
we shall live obedient to His ordinances and who also will require
of us all, when we depart hence to His presence, an account of our
life, since He is Judge of all proud wrongdoing; for the groans of
the oppressed become the punishment of the oppressor.
“Let Alexander then terrify with these threats those who wish for
wealth and who dread death, for against us these weapons are both
alike powerless; the Brahmins neither love gold nor fear death. Go
then and tell Alexander this: Dandamis has no need of aught that is
yours, and therefore will not go to you, and if you want anything
from Dandamis, come you to him.”
With close attention Alexander received through Onesikritos the
message from the yogi, and “felt a stronger desire than ever to
see Dandamis who, though old and naked, was the only antagonist
in whom he, the conqueror of many nations, had met more than his
match.”
Alexander invited to Taxila a number of Brahmin ascetics noted for
their skill in answering philosophical questions with pithy wisdom.
An account of the verbal skirmish is given by Plutarch; Alexander
himself framed all the questions.
“Which be the more numerous, the living or the dead?”
“The living, for the dead are not.”
“Which breeds the larger animals, the sea or the land?”
“The land, for the sea is only a part of land.”
“Which is the cleverest of beasts?”
“That one with which man is not yet acquainted.” (Man fears the
unknown.)
“Which existed first, the day or the night?”
“The day was first by one day.” This reply caused Alexander to
betray surprise; the Brahmin added: “Impossible questions require
impossible answers.”
“How best may a man make himself beloved?”
“A man will be beloved if, possessed with great power, he still
does not make himself feared.”
“How may a man become a god?” {FN41-5}
“By doing that which it is impossible for a man to do.”
“Which is stronger, life or death?”
“Life, because it bears so many evils.”
Alexander succeeded in taking out of India, as his teacher, a true
yogi. This man was Swami Sphines, called “Kalanos” by the Greeks
because the saint, a devotee of God in the form of Kali, greeted
everyone by pronouncing Her auspicious name.
Kalanos accompanied Alexander to Persia. On a stated day, at Susa
in Persia, Kalanos gave up his aged body by entering a funeral
pyre in view of the whole Macedonian army. The historians record
the astonishment of the soldiers who observed that the yogi had no
fear of pain or death, and who never once moved from his position
as he was consumed in the flames. Before leaving for his cremation,
Kalanos had embraced all his close companions, but refrained from
bidding farewell to Alexander, to whom the Hindu sage had merely
remarked:
“I shall see you shortly in Babylon.”
Alexander left Persia, and died a year later in Babylon. His Indian
guru’s words had been his way of saying he would be present with
Alexander in life and death.
The Greek historians have left us many vivid and inspiring pictures
of Indian society. Hindu law, Arrian tells us, protects the people
and “ordains that no one among them shall, under any circumstances,
be a slave but that, enjoying freedom themselves, they shall respect
the equal right to it which all possess. For those, they thought,
who have learned neither to domineer over nor cringe to others will
attain the life best adapted for all vicissitudes of lot.” {FN41-6}
“The Indians,” runs another text, “neither put out money at usury,
nor know how to borrow. It is contrary to established usage for an
Indian either to do or suffer a wrong, and therefore they neither
make contracts nor require securities.” Healing, we are told, was
by simple and natural means. “Cures are effected rather by regulating
diet than by the use of medicines. The remedies most esteemed are
ointments and plasters. All others are considered to be in great
measure pernicious.” Engagement in war was restricted to the KSHATRIYAS
or warrior caste. “Nor would an enemy coming upon a husbandman at
his work on his land, do him any harm, for men of this class being
regarded as public benefactors, are protected from all injury. The
land thus remaining unravaged and producing heavy crops, supplies
the inhabitants with the requisites to make life enjoyable.” {FN41-7}
The Emperor Chandragupta who in 305 B.C. had defeated Alexander’s
general, Seleucus, decided seven years later to hand over the
reins of India’s government to his son. Traveling to South India,
Chandragupta spent the last twelve years of his life as a penniless
ascetic, seeking self-realization in a rocky cave at Sravanabelagola,
now honored as a Mysore shrine. Near-by stands the world’s largest
statue, carved out of an immense boulder by the Jains in A.D. 983
to honor the saint Comateswara.
The ubiquitous religious shrines of Mysore are a constant reminder
of the many great saints of South India. One of these masters,
Thayumanavar, has left us the following challenging poem:
You can control a mad elephant;
You can shut the mouth of the bear and the tiger;
You can ride a lion;
You can play with the cobra;
By alchemy you can eke out your livelihood;
You can wander through the universe incognito;
You can make vassals of the gods;
You can be ever youthful;
You can walk on water and live in fire;
But control of the mind is better and more difficult.
In the beautiful and fertile State of Travancore in the extreme
south of India, where traffic is conveyed over rivers and canals,
the Maharaja assumes every year a hereditary obligation to expiate
the sin incurred by wars and the annexation in the distant past
of several petty states to Travancore. For fifty-six days annually
the Maharaja visits the temple thrice daily to hear Vedic hymns
and recitations; the expiation ceremony ends with the LAKSHADIPAM
or illumination of the temple by a hundred thousand lights.
The great Hindu lawgiver Manu {FN41-8} has outlined the duties of
a king. “He should shower amenities like Indra (lord of the gods);
collect taxes gently and imperceptibly as the sun obtains vapor
from water; enter into the life of his subjects as the wind goes
everywhere; mete out even justice to all like Yama (god of death);
bind transgressors in a noose like Varuna (Vedic deity of sky and
wind); please all like the moon, burn up vicious enemies like the
god of fire; and support all like the earth goddess.
“In war a king should not fight with poisonous or fiery weapons nor
kill weak or unready or weaponless foes or men who are in fear or
who pray for protection or who run away. War should be resorted to
only as a last resort. Results are always doubtful in war.”
Madras Presidency on the southeast coast of India contains the
flat, spacious, sea-girt city of Madras, and Conjeeveram, the Golden
City, capital site of the Pallava dynasty whose kings ruled during
the early centuries of the Christian era. In modern Madras Presidency
the nonviolent ideals of Mahatma Gandhi have made great headway;
the white distinguishing “Gandhi caps” are seen everywhere. In
the south generally the Mahatma has effected many important temple
reforms for “untouchables” as well as caste-system reforms.
The origin of the caste system, formulated by the great legislator
Manu, was admirable. He saw clearly that men are distinguished by
natural evolution into four great classes: those capable of offering
service to society through their bodily labor (SUDRAS); those who
serve through mentality, skill, agriculture, trade, commerce, business
life in general (VAISYAS); those whose talents are administrative,
executive, and protective-rulers and warriors (KSHATRIYAS);
those of contemplative nature, spiritually inspired and inspiring
(BRAHMINS). “Neither birth nor sacraments nor study nor ancestry
can decide whether a person is twice-born (i.e., a BRAHMIN);” the
MAHABHARATA declares, “character and conduct only can decide.”
{FN41-9} Manu instructed society to show respect to its members
insofar as they possessed wisdom, virtue, age, kinship or, lastly,
wealth. Riches in Vedic India were always despised if they were
hoarded or unavailable for charitable purposes. Ungenerous men of
great wealth were assigned a low rank in society.
Serious evils arose when the caste system became hardened through
the centuries into a hereditary halter. Social reformers like
Gandhi and the members of very numerous societies in India today
are making slow but sure progress in restoring the ancient values
of caste, based solely on natural qualification and not on birth.
Every nation on earth has its own distinctive misery-producing
karma to deal with and remove; India, too, with her versatile
and invulnerable spirit, shall prove herself equal to the task of
caste-reformation.
So entrancing is southern India that Mr. Wright and I yearned to
prolong our idyl. But time, in its immemorial rudeness, dealt us no
courteous extensions. I was scheduled soon to address the concluding
session of the Indian Philosophical Congress at Calcutta University.
At the end of the visit to Mysore, I enjoyed a talk with Sir C. V.
Raman, president of the Indian Academy of Sciences. This brilliant
Hindu physicist was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1930 for his important
discovery in the diffusion of light-the “Raman Effect” now known
to every schoolboy.
Waving a reluctant farewell to a crowd of Madras students and
friends, Mr. Wright and I set out for the north. On the way we
stopped before a little shrine sacred to the memory of Sadasiva
Brahman, {FN41-10} in whose eighteenth-century life story miracles
cluster thickly. A larger Sadasiva shrine at Nerur, erected by
the Raja of Pudukkottai, is a pilgrimage spot which has witnessed
numerous divine healings.
Many quaint stories of Sadasiva, a lovable and fully-illumined
master, are still current among the South Indian villagers. Immersed
one day in SAMADHI on the bank of the Kaveri River, Sadasiva was
seen to be carried away by a sudden flood. Weeks later he was found
buried deep beneath a mound of earth. As the villagers’ shovels
struck his body, the saint rose and walked briskly away.
Sadasiva never spoke a word or wore a cloth. One morning the nude
yogi unceremoniously entered the tent of a Mohammedan chieftain. His
ladies screamed in alarm; the warrior dealt a savage sword thrust
at Sadasiva, whose arm was severed. The master departed unconcernedly.
Overcome by remorse, the Mohammedan picked up the arm from the floor
and followed Sadasiva. The yogi quietly inserted his arm into the
bleeding stump. When the warrior humbly asked for some spiritual
instruction, Sadasiva wrote with his finger on the sands:
“Do not do what you want, and then you may do what you like.”
The Mohammedan was uplifted to an exalted state of mind, and
understood the saint’s paradoxical advice to be a guide to soul
freedom through mastery of the ego.
The village children once expressed a desire in Sadasiva’s presence
to see the Madura religious festival, 150 miles away. The yogi