The Cauliflower (21 page)

And why? Because she loved God so much. And in her beautifully,
crazily
warped conception of it, a true saint—a great saint—always humbly sacrifices the thing that she loves the most.

Ah, the Pair of Opposites!

I give you two saints:

One quite bloated with God's love—

And the other?
Starved
.

1864, at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple (six miles north of Calcutta)

There is so much great potential in Uncle, and very often it saddens me that Uncle seems determined not to make full use of it. Late in his
Tantric sadhana
, Uncle secretly confessed to me that he was now possessed of the Eight Miraculous Powers. I became most excited at this news. Uncle could—if he wished—reduce his body to the size of an atom, or have ready access to any place on earth, or realize whatever his heart desired.…

Of course, armed with such valuable information I at once set about thinking of many interesting and lucrative ways in which Uncle might make good use of these new powers of his, and Uncle—with his habitual childlike spirit—was at first very enthusiastic about my many schemes. But then, after a little while, he became uneasy and restless and said that he would go to the temple and pray to the Goddess to find out which acts
she
wished to see him perform with them. When he returned from praying Uncle was very grave and sober. “The Goddess has told me that I am to hold these new powers of mine in as much esteem as I would hold excreta,” he said. From that moment onward Uncle refused to talk of such matters with me any further. And if I dared to raise them with him—and sometimes it was hard for me to resist—he would become quite incensed.

At another time Uncle caught me deep in conversation with Mathur Baba, who had inquired about the best way in which he might secretly leave his vast inheritance to Uncle. Mathur Baba and I were coming up with all manner of excellent plans when Uncle happened to enter the room, and—even though our talk immediately stopped—he somehow caught a whiff of what was being discussed (Uncle has a great talent for the reading of minds—this is one of his Eight Miraculous Powers, after all) and became instantly furious. He accused us both of trying to ruin him and then ran away almost in tears.

I wish Uncle knew what was best for him.

I wish Uncle knew what was best for us.

Mathur Baba loves to spend his money on Uncle in any way that he can. He once bought Uncle an exquisite
Vaishnava
shawl and presented it to him. Uncle—with the spirit of a child—took the shawl and felt its quality and admired its decoration and arranged it across his shoulders and twirled around his room in it. He was quite delighted with the gift. And so he went out into the temple grounds and pranced around in his new shawl, showing it to anyone and everyone who would care to stop and take a look. His moon face was beaming with joy and excitement. It was truly lovely to see him taking such innocent pleasure in Mathur's generous gift.

But then Uncle's mood suddenly changed. He began to scowl. “Tell me, Hriday,” he murmured, plucking at the shawl nervously, “will this beautiful shawl bring me any closer to God?”

Oh, how was I to answer him? My heart sank. I glanced away. I said nothing. And then before I could stop him, Uncle had ripped the shawl from his shoulders and had thrown it onto the ground and was spitting on it, with hatred, and then began jumping up and down on it. Next he ran off to find a match so that he might burn it—this hateful shawl, this beautiful shawl, this expensive shawl—because it could not bring him closer to God. No. Worse even than that. Because Uncle felt that to love earthly possessions—to feel such attachments—was to be drawn further away from God.

I am only thankful that Uncle was gone for some time trying to find a match so that I could take the shawl and hide it from him.

You might be forgiven for thinking that Mathur Baba would be cross with Uncle for treating his generous gift so shabbily, but Mathur Baba, on being told of what Uncle had done, just nodded his head approvingly. “It is perfectly right that your Uncle should have behaved as he did.” He smiled. Because Mathur Baba can find no fault in Uncle. Which I suppose is just as well—for us all.

I love Uncle dearly. And Mathur Baba's judgment in such matters is extremely sound. But it is sometimes difficult—even for one as close to Uncle as I am—to fully comprehend which things Uncle will embrace and which he will reject. I am not accusing Uncle of inconsistency. It's just that my worldly mind cannot entirely fathom the choices Uncle makes with regard to Mathur Baba's spending. Uncle is very specific about the gorgeous Varanasi
sari
s or the exquisite gold jewels that he wishes to dress the image of the Devi in, for example. No expense will be spared over those. And he will encourage Mathur Baba to spend endless amounts of money on drawing visiting pandits and
sadhu
s to Dakshineswar. Which other temple offers so many wonderful gifts and incentives for its holy visitors? In fact, Uncle encourages Mathur Baba to hold many spectacular concerts and performances and festivals, and of course Uncle will always be found sitting, clapping joyously, at the center of all these. If Uncle takes a shine to a particular actor or musician or dancer then Mathur Baba will—according to the level of ecstasy or spiritual fervor they transport Uncle into—gift them most lavishly. But Uncle is a spiritual child, he will not just try one sweet but many sweets, and having encouraged Mathur Baba to give to one performer, he will then promptly fall in love with another, and then another, until even Mathur Baba's endlessly deep coffers (and his great patience) seem in danger of running dry! But what does Uncle care about such matters? When Mathur Baba's store of gifts runs out Uncle will simply take off his own clothes and present these to the actor! Uncle is a child. Just a child.

This attitude of the child has always been Uncle's natural and habitual spiritual mood. Why else is Uncle so drawn to the
Brahmini
, who treats him like a mother would and lets him sit on her lap and strokes his hair and sings him songs and feeds him with chunks of creamy butter as he perches there? Although following Uncle's undertaking of the sixty-four
Tantric
disciplines—and his great success in all of them—Uncle and the
Brahmini
hadn't rested on their laurels. They then set about exploring more fully the many spiritual moods of
bhakti yoga
, which celebrates the different forms of devotional love for a personal God. The mood of child and parent Uncle had already explored, and so too that of the devoted servant to his master (in the form of the monkey chief, Hanuman), and so next Uncle took it upon himself to worship God as a lover.

It was during this time that Mathur Baba hosted the grand
Annameru
, with Uncle's happy encouragement. Never in my life had I seen such a colorful and extravagant religious event! Mathur Baba stinted on nothing. At the heart of this festival is the customary mountain of food. Mathur Baba gave to the pandits and visitors over a thousand
maund
s of rice and the same in sesame. He handed out gold and silver and silks and every other kind of luxurious object one could possibly imagine. He hired the best and most famous singers and performers. The event lasted for many days and caused much excitement. And as I watched Uncle sitting joyfully at the heart of it all, falling constantly in and out of ecstasy, I couldn't help thinking back to when the Dakshineswar Kali Temple first opened, and how the mounds of food prepared then were just left to rot or thrown into the holy Ganga.

My, how things had changed! And who might we say was at the very root of this transformation? Was it not Uncle? Perhaps by encouraging Mathur Baba to spend so selflessly and extravagantly on others, Uncle himself (who is given pride of place by Mathur Baba at every wonderful celebration) was unwittingly gaining the credit and the attention and the admiration of all of those who attended? Was not Uncle the true host of this magnificent event? And all without having spent a single
rupee
himself!

Oh, Uncle is not nearly so foolish and innocent as he might at first appear! Uncle is truly a genius! And where is the harm in it? Because if the people learn to love Uncle, and Uncle loves the Goddess, then surely only God himself is the ultimate victor?

Of course, not everything connected to the
Annameru
was unstintingly positive. It was at this time that Uncle's mother, Chandradevi, decided to visit the temple in person to see her son, and then resolved to stay on. She was now determined to live out her last days close to the holy Ganga. And Uncle was most delighted to have her staying with him because he loves his mother dearly. I was not quite so happy because I am the person who cares for Uncle, and now, I suppose, I am also the person who must care for his ancient mother.

I think it only fair to say that Chandradevi and I have never been especially close. There has never been any serious animus between the two of us. It is simply what they like to call “a clash of personalities.” For some reason Chandradevi has never trusted Hridayram. He can see it in her eyes. Or perhaps it is only that he serves her son so well that she is sometimes at pains to find ways to serve him herself, and thus her pride is wounded. Who knows?

Whatever the reason, Chandradevi quickly established herself in the tiny storeroom at the foot of the
nahabat
close to the Bakultala Ghat. It is an inhospitable space, but she seems perfectly content with it. And Mathur Baba is very happy to have her there because they can talk endlessly about Uncle together. Chandradevi loves to reminisce about Uncle's childhood. But she is a simple soul and much given to curious flights of fancy. I once heard her telling Mathur Baba about the circumstances of Uncle's conception—of how her husband, Kshudiram, was on pilgrimage in Gaya, to absolve the sins of his ancestors, and on his final day made an offering in the temple of Vishnu. He was filled with a great sense of lightness and joy on this occasion, and that night, while he slept, he had a strange dream in which he entered the temple again and saw all of his ancestors lined up before him. He was so happy to see them! He fell down in tears and took the dust off their feet in gratitude. And as he lay there a glorious light filled the entire temple, emanating from a divine being (was it not Vishnu himself?), who spoke to him, saying that he was so delighted with Kshudiram's service that he would be born to him as a child so that Kshudiram might continue to serve him. Kshudiram appealed to the being not to follow this plan because his circumstances were so humble, but the divine being would not be dissuaded.

When Kshudiram returned home from his pilgrimage (Chandradevi continued), he made no mention of his dream to his wife, but she, without any prompting, asked if it were possible for a divine being to sleep in a human bed, because one night, while her husband was absent, such a being had appeared in the bed beside her. A few days later, on entering a temple of our Lord Shiva, she had noticed waves of divine light emanating from the image and moving toward her, and before she could tell her friends about it, the waves had engulfed her and her surprise was so great that she had promptly swooned.

A short while later—greatly advanced in years as she was—she discovered that she was pregnant.

Such are the stories that Chandradevi tells to Mathur. In truth, I cannot remember if I have heard these stories before. I must confess that they seem somehow familiar. And—like Uncle—Chandradevi is incapable of calculation. She is very innocent. She is naive and silly. Although I would never go so far as to call her an imbecile. She is my aunt, after all.

I know that Chandradevi is happy to be here, and her needs are few. In this regard she is just like Uncle. She does not miss her village home because the rumors about Uncle had been a kind of torture to her simple soul. The villagers had accused Uncle of all kinds of craziness in his pursuit of God—many of which accusations were of course perfectly true. And now Chandradevi is to be here in Dakshineswar, close to her beloved son, to witness some of these crazy behaviors for herself! Perhaps, in time, she will even start to feel that remaining close to Uncle is not such an undiluted blessing after all.

Because the meandering river of Uncle's
sadhana
has taken another strange turn of late. In his desire to perfect his worship in the divine mood of the lover (
madhura bhava
), Uncle has decided to focus all of his attention on his beloved Krishna. And the best way to love Krishna, Uncle says, is by imitating the behavior of his most ardent admirer, Radha. And so this is what Uncle does.

Uncle has lately transformed himself into a woman to offer his love to his most dearly beloved. And Mathur Baba is there to indulge Uncle in all of his desires in this regard. Having thrown away the shawl in complete disgust, Uncle has now permitted Mathur Baba to buy him the most glorious
sari
s and bodices and jewels and the most expensive handmade wig, and Uncle dresses up in them at every opportunity and behaves exactly as a woman would. This has caused great consternation at the temple, where people mutter that such behavior—such
luxury
—is inappropriate to a man who has renounced all connections to the material world. But Uncle and Mathur don't care a jot. Everything about Uncle has now become feminine—his voice, his walk, his laugh, his interests, his conversation. I—Hridayram—am now serving a woman. This makes me feel very uncomfortable. I have lately taken a wife, and it is hard to explain all this to her. She is frightened of Uncle, and she is frustrated that I am spending so much time in his service, and in the service of his mother, too. When will I ever get around to serving
her
, she wonders?

Uncle now spends much of his average day in the company of women. Recently he moved into the women's apartments in Mathur Baba's Janbazar home and has become one of the family. The other women accept him completely as one of their own. At times even I have trouble recognizing Uncle as he moves among them.