Nicola Barker - The Cauliflower

The Brahmini —although not in her first flush of youth — was a very handsome woman. I told her about Uncle as she sat, cross-legged, in the welcome shade of the chandni . She listened very patiently, and then, instead of coolly dismissing me — as I imagined she would — she asked me to take her to Uncle immediately. I guided her to Uncle’s room, where Uncle was now anxiously waiting, and I was very astonished — once the formal introductions were over — to see that the Brahmini and Uncle behaved toward one another as if they had known each other their whole lives! Uncle told the Brahmini —who, as a true sannyasi , owned nothing in the world but two wearing cloths and a handful of spiritual books — his entire life story, about all his spiritual aspirations and experiences, of how people thought he was insane, and how even he himself doubted his own sanity at times.

The Brahmini nodded calmly throughout Uncle’s tales. And when he had finished talking she told him — with many clever spiritual references and the paging through of books — that the whole world is mad for something — money, pleasure, love — and that this was perfectly normal. It just so happened that Uncle was mad for God. She then showed Uncle segments of the bhakti scriptures where all of the symptoms that Uncle had been experiencing were described in great detail. She explained that Uncle had reached a state referred to in the scriptures as mahabhava : a condition of exalted devotion rarely ever seen except in the greatest of saints.

Furthermore, the Brahmini then told Uncle that she was on a mission from God. She had been instructed to wander the earth until she met three spiritual aspirants, with all of whom she was to share the bounty of her extensive Tantric and Vaishnava knowledge. Uncle, it seemed, was to be the third of these disciples. She said that she had been wandering and searching for Uncle for many years.

Ah, how do I explain the sheer relief that Uncle felt upon his meeting with the Brahmini ? A charming bond was immediately established. Uncle became the Brahmini ’s little Krishna, and she his most beloved mother. I will not deny that I was slightly put out by the Brahmini suddenly becoming Uncle’s all in all. But the pressure of caring for Uncle had become very heavy at this time, and to see Uncle so relieved and so encouraged by the Brahmini was of course a great boon for me as well.

The Brahmini is a strong and most intelligent woman. She is a powerful spiritual force in her own right. As with all good mothers and teachers, she is very stern and controlling. But who am I to voice such an opinion? Who is Hridayram Mukhopadhyay? He is nothing! Nothing! The Brahmini knows this. The Brahmini is never rude but she sees straight through Hridayram. He is transparent to the Brahmini . He is insignificant. He has simply to adjust quietly and uncomplainingly to her special quirks and her curious requirements. Hridayram’s life with Uncle is a long game. The best players must always show a willingness to adapt. And so must he. This is his destiny. He is accustomed to being invisible. He is accustomed to always shining the light upon Uncle. Those who shine the light but who stand in the darkness are still holding the light in their hands, after all.

A fistful of dirt on this mysterious Brahmini:

She was born in East Bengal. In some accounts she is around forty years of age, in others, fifty. She is clever and handsome, powerful and charismatic. She is an itinerant monk and an avowed intellectual, who (for all intents and purposes) lives freely— sans ties or protection — in nineteenth-century Bengali society. She is definitely a force to be reckoned with: a fixer, an opportunist, a mover, and a shaker.

Her avowed aim (her dream) is to firmly and fearlessly guide Sri Ramakrishna (the man who would be God) through the sixty-four dangerous and exotic disciplines of the Tantras , then — once these have been practiced and mastered — to teach him the main ideas, rules, and tenets of Vaishnavism .

The Brahmini finally establishes the — let’s face it — somewhat free-form and errant Sri Ramakrishna in a strong, traditional faith structure. Having arrived spontaneously, after six years of complete devotion and dedication to the spiritual growth and well-being of the Saint she just as suddenly disappears.

Simply “ Brahmini ”—

This spiritual midwife

Stays anonymous.

His story. Records. Little. Else.

November 1884 (or sometime thereabouts), at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple

Sri Ramakrishna is sitting in his room with a group of shocked disciples discussing the terrible way in which the infamous libertine and playwright Girish Chandra Ghosh has drunkenly abused and humiliated the guru at the theater, in front of a large crowd, the previous night:

Irate Devotee: “Girish has gone too far this time. What he did was unforgivable!”

Sri Ramakrishna sighs, then shrugs, sadly. He turns to another devotee, Ram Chandra Datta, and asks for his opinion.

Sri Ramakrishna: “What do you make of it, Captain?”

Ram Chandra Datta ( after pondering for a while ): “I think Girish is like the vicious serpent, Kaliya, who has nothing to offer Lord Krishna apart from her venom. And so that is what she offers.”

Sri Ramakrishna smiles, nods, orders a carriage, and promptly drives over to Girish’s house to forgive him.

1882 (or sometime thereabouts). Sri Ramakrishna talks to a new disciple about sadness:

“Misery is good!

If the whole world was happy

Who would chant God’s name?”

A passing observation:

First the Rani, and now the Brahmini ? Both negotiating paths of such extraordinary freedom and flexibility within the restricting manacles of nineteenth-century tradition, sex, and caste? How on earth did they manage it?

First answer :

Feminine guile!

Second answer :

Native wit!

Real answer :

“Ah, Hinduism:

This, the Pair of Opposites,

Binds and releases!”

Two haiku about Tantra:

“‘Consciousness’—‘Being’—‘Bliss’ —

All three are identical,

And all hail from God.”

(or)

“‘ Chit ’ —‘ Sat ’ — ‘ Ananda ’—

You are one with the Godhead;

God lives within you.”

Winter 1881, at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple. Sri Ramakrishna finally gets to meet the one person he has been waiting for his whole damned life!!:

(Suggested subheading: True Romance! Uh … Oh. Although — gulp! — not with his wife…)

Part 1.

The undoubtedly brilliant but somewhat cynical and world-weary eighteen-year-old Narendra Nath Datta is encouraged to visit the well-known (nay, notorious?) and rather eccentric guru Sri Ramakrishna by a couple of his friends. His mood on approaching the Master’s domain is a little haughty and somewhat less than enthusiastic. He enters Sri Ramakrishna’s room, sits down, and after some prompting (he has a lovely voice) is persuaded to sing. When his song is finished, Sri Ramakrishna (now forty-five years of age) beckons him outside, onto his northern verandah (which is protected — as it is winter — from strong winds and bad weather by a matted screen). He closes the door behind them with great care and deliberation. They are now completely alone. A curious scene here unfolds:

Sri Ramakrishna ( grabbing the bemused eighteen-year-old boy’s hand and bursting into noisy tears ): “You’ve come so late! Why has it taken you so long? Didn’t you know how I’ve been waiting for you? I’ve been driven almost mad by the worldly talk of all these fools around me. I thought I would burst without anyone to tell my true feelings to!”