A Prison, A Courtroom And Oneness

In 2003, I happened to borrow a book from a friend and discovered Sri Aurobindo. The book was Satprem's 'Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness.' Since then, Sri Aurobindo has become my refuge, someone to whom I turn, when life confuses or threatens me or whenever I have questions to ask. He is the Guru, through whom Vasudeva speaks to me.

I reach out across a hundred years to where he sits alone in his tiny, windowless cell in Alipore jail. Arrested for conspiracy, in May 1908, he has been awarded the most horrific of punishments, the solitary confinement. But, then it is here that he has found God, his beloved Sri Krishna. The tiny cell has metamorphosed into a serene ashram in a forest.

He speaks to me of his experiences there. "I looked at the jail that secluded me from men and it was no longer by its high walls that I was imprisoned; no, it was Vasudeva that surrounded me. I walked under the branches of the tree in front of my cell but it was not the tree, I knew it was Vasudeva, it was Sri Krishna whom I saw standing there and holding over me his shade. I looked at the bars of my cell, the very grating that did duty for a door and again I saw Vasudeva. It was Narayana who was guarding and standing sentry over me. Or I lay on the course blankets that were given me for a couch and felt the arms of Sri Krishna around me, the arms of my Friend and Lover... I looked at the prisoners in the jail, the thieves, the murderers, the swindlers and as I looked at them I saw Vasudeva, It was Narayana whom I found in these darkened souls and misused bodies."

The trial lasts six months. Sri Aurobindo is locked everyday, in an iron cage in the middle of the courtroom. It is from here, that his voice echoes across time , "when the case opened... I was followed by the same insight. He said to me,"When you were cast into jail, did not your heart fail and did you not cry out to me where is Thy protection? Look now at the Magistrate, look now at the Prosecuting Counsel."I looked and it was not the Magistrate whom I saw; it was Vasudeva, it was Narayana who was sitting there on the bench. I looked at the Prosecuting Counsel and it was not the Counsel for the Prosecution that I saw;it was Sri Krishna who sat there and smiled. "Now do you fear?" He said,"I am in all men and I overrule their actions and their words."

Throughout his trial, Sri Aurobindo sits silently, his head bowed, not uttering a word.

God is not outside His world. He did not 'create' the world, He became the world.The Upanishad says: "He became knowledge and ignorance, He became the truth and the falsehood... He became all this, whatsoever that is." In Sri Aurobindo's words, "The dumb and blind and brute is That and not only the finely mentally conscious human or animal existence. All this infinite becoming is a birth of the Spirit into form."

On May 6,1909, after a year spent in jail, Sri Aurobindo is acquitted. The main witness against him, whose testimony would have resulted in a death penalty, is shot dead in jail by two revolutionaries.

But the Voice still speaks to him: "Remember never to fear, never to hesitate. Remember, it is I who am doing this, not you or any other. Therefore, whatever clouds may come, whatever danger and sufferings, whatever difficulties, whatever impossibilities, there is nothing impossible, nothing difficult.

It is I who am doing this."

On Ruhaniyat and Washroom Queues

We attended Ruhaniyat (the sufi and mystic music fest) recently held in Bangalore and the experience was pleasant enough. It was organised outdoors, with coconut trees providing a backdrop to the stage, a welcome change from a stuffy auditorium. The folk singers from Rajasthan sang Mira bhajans and those from Madhya Pradesh were Kabir panthis. They were common people, with brightly coloured pagris on their heads and their music was so lively and exuberant that even Mira's pain of being separated from Krishna seemed infused with joy.One Kabir song ,'Tu Hi Tu'(only You) went somewhat like this -'You are small in the ant.You are big in the elephant. You are the mahout, who sits on the elephant. You are the thief, running away and You are the cop in hot pursuit'. Listening to the spiritual music of our land, made me realise all over again how spirituality here seems to be all pervasive, woven in the fabric of daily life and a constant joyous celebration. It is not confined to sombre places of worship and their caretakers. I was moved to tears on several occasions, especially by the singing of Parvathy Baul. Her voice had that special something , which cannot be defined. She provided her own music, with her ektara, dugdugi and anklets and the twirling of her long jata (dreadlocks) as she danced was mesmerising. She sang a Bengali translation of an Akka mahadevi poem which went like this - 'O Purush(man) ,seeing my well formed breasts you are attracted, but I am neither man nor woman.The only man for me is Chenna Mallikarjuna'. In her introduction, she explained that men saints usually describe women as 'big maya' and this was a woman saint's perspective.
We can get a taste of her music on her homepage.

http://www.parvathybaul.mimemo.net/

After about two hours, we got a ten minute break and I went in search of the washroom. There, I saw a curious scenario. There was a long queue, before the women's washroom while there was none before the men's. The men were just coming and going. Somehow, this seemed rather unfair. After I had waited for some time, in the seemingly unmoving queue, a lady loudly proclaimed, "After waiting for so long, there is no way I am going back." This, sort of broke the ice, and conversations began to be initiated.The lady before me, turned around and we commented on the mystery of the men's loo having no queue, and what could be the possible explanation. Some ladies ahead of us, discovered that they shared a common place of origin, Delhi and the conversation became really animated. Information give and take began in earnest and invitations to visit were also extended. The program had restarted in the meantime and we could hear Kachra Khan and his group singing in the background.

The women exchanged smiles. We helped each other wash our hands after we discovered that the taps were operated by footpumps (similar to foot operated sewing machines). The waiting time at the women's loo, had brought a totally disparate bunch of women, who, a little while ago, were not even aware of each other's existence, together. For a few moments, before we all went our own way, we shared something warm and human, something close to friendship. And I marvelled once again at the magic of female bonding. Let the men have their queue-less washrooms. Long live the Sisterhood!