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Swami Suddhananda |
Nilakanta is a place tucked away in the rolling ranges of the
Himalayas, in Rishikesh. Nilakanteswar Mahadev is the presiding
deity of the temple.
The name Nilakanta means blue-throated. The ancient mythology
describes the churning of the ocean by the gods and demons to gain
the precious things. When many precious jewels, animals and the
nectar that immortalizes were found within, so also was found the
deadly poison that can destroy the whole creation. When many were
ready to take away the other valuables, nobody was prepared for the
poison that had started destroying everything.
At that time, Lord Shiva, reported to be the
meditative ascetic, was approached to swallow the poison to contain
its destructive force. He agreed and drank the poison. Legend says
that Goddess Parvati, His consort, held his neck with her hands to
prevent the poison from going into his stomach. The poison remained
in the throat and became deep blue in appearance. The story has
wonderful messages, but the one relevant to us at this stage is that
the poison thrown out can destroy others outside. If taken in, it
can destroy the consumer. But suspended within, it harms nobody. The
average person must learn to do that within himself. He must
discover that the whole universe is suspended within and a little
emotion like anger, love, etc., makes no real difference. However,
this temple in the Rishikesh Himalayas was unknown to me until I,
along with many other students, came to visit Rishikesh. Poojya
Swami Dayanandaji brought us here to study the Kathopanishad on the
banks of the Ganga.
The year was 1973. The month was January. Almost 30
long years ago, the banks of the Ganga were mostly empty except for
the few ashrams near Laxman Jhula and the present site of Ram Jhula.
The Ganga was visible from the main road itself. There were not that
many pilgrims and the town was just growing. Our Swamiji’s ashram
itself was a small structure and we were sitting out in the open for
our regular Upanishad classes.
Once Swamiji told us about the Shiva temple, many of
us were interested in visiting the place. Those days there were no
motorable roads. We had to walk to the ghat, nearly a
kilometer-and-a-half to take the ferry across to Swargadwar Ashram.
The trek begins from there for the next nine kilometres.
The body was young and the path was beautiful. We
had to climb two to three hills before descending for the temple.
The whole path is through lush green forest and the sunrays do not
penetrate the leafy cover overhead. Added to the cool comfort of the
jungle, the rivulets, the springs and the birds added to the
enchanting trekking. I was literally jumping from stone to stone
like a mountain goat to negotiate through the hills. It took only
three to four hours for us to reach the temple. After an hour’s stay
there, enjoying the gushing spring, the isolation, the silence and
the presence of the temple that symbolises the Reality of our own
Being, we literally danced down the hills to reach the plains in a
couple of hours.
That was 1973. Now it is 2002. More than 29 years
have passed. Not only the body has aged, but also the whole place
has changed beyond recognition. The large empty tracks on the
Ganga’s banks are filled with ugly structures, put up by the
squatters with total unplanned constructions. Previously, sadhus too
were squatters, but they built the places for others’ sake and they
happened to stay there for sometime. The places were meant for some
sort of activities always associated with something reminding
somebody of the Self in the God. They may not be all genuine, but
the lifestyle did not allow somebody to have exclusive ownership. It
had to be for the general public and the lifestyle was revolving
around a constant attempt to remind somebody the ultimate purpose.
However, not only the town has changed in the
foothills, but also the temple in the deep isolation has undergone
total transformation. The changes have their roots in the human
minds and human minds being commonly helplessly insecure, the whole
transformation has centered on security considerations – mostly
monetary. Even the places which were awe-inspiring and invoking a
supernatural divine presence have now been exploited to make the
fastest possible buck. No more the ordinary can travel in the
simplest possible way as everything costs more.
Too many distractions have come up around the
temple. Everywhere there are shops and shops – the shops not only
for food of different kinds, the cassette shops dishing out
different types of music are loudly advertising themselves. Of
course, the priests are in hordes and simple village folks are the
easy target.
The whole sanctity, the serenity of the place is
concealed behind the pandemonium. There was a time when not only the
body was young but also security was effortlessly manifest in the
rolling hills and jungles. The ancient temple invoked an Existence
Timeless, Eternal.
This is just like the Truth of one’s own Self. When
the mind is young, the thought world is not crowded: there is an
effortless manifestation of the reality. If the thinker is willing,
that time itself he can recognise himself easily. But as time
passes, the thinker ‘I’ encounters more and more thought crowds.
Each thought reminds a memory that drags the individual to the
outside world. The memories of the sensations, that somebody
considered as happiness itself, drag the person to the object and
the Reality, the Happiness itself is inconveniently forgotten.
In the pathless expanse where any thought can be a
gateway to the Absolute, it also becomes a gateway to the external
limitations. If the innocence of the initial stage is not exploited
to understand one’s own Self, the gradual complication rising with
growth, can make the journey arduous and uncomfortable.
Since I had seen the Nilakanta in its pristine
beauty, I still could feel the beauty that is myself all over again.
Now the roads are motorable, unloading hordes of visitors everyday.
They avoid the tough climb. They also miss out on the beauty of the
jungle, the wildlife and the expanse touching the faraway horizon.
They reach the Nilakant – the place - but they never reach the
spirit, the Truth in themselves. They see the place to add to the
lists of the destinations they have travelled in the Himalayas. At
the end of the day, it will be either forgotten or shall remain as a
distantly vague memory. The Self is not a memory. The Blue-throated
God is not an alien entity. The Immobile Mountain within, with the
exotic jungle of thoughts is a limitless expanse where the traveller
and the destination are one and the same. The devotee is not
alienated by devotion as even the traveller is not alienated from
destination. The devotee and the altar of devotion are an imaginary
travel for the devotee where ultimately the traveller melts away in
the altar to feel that he had never ever left the altar to return to
it!
The trip to the Nilkant was a homecoming. Travelling
all the way up by a jeep and climbing down the path in
three-and-a-half hours with leisurely stops for listening to the
sounds and the silence of the jungle, to observe the varieties of
birds, trees and monkeys, I was ‘with’ the same thing as in the last
time 29 years ago – myself. That ‘Awareness’ makes all forms in one
to be named as Iswara, the God, the SHIVA, the VISHNU or name as you
choose. I only wished that every man should see himself before it is
too complicated within, so that he can enjoy himself, be blissful
everywhere with all unavoidable material changes outside.
Last time the body had danced up and down the hills
with no muscular pain. This time the muscles were tired but it was
the same dance within, all through the travel!
To know one’s own Self is to learn to dance with the
Eternal Dance that is Shiva, who holds the poison of a creation
suspended within – the Nilakanta, the Blue-throated God! He is
always one with us.
Be one with Him and enjoy the apparent travel
through life!
Let us do that!
Swami Suddhananda
Samvit Sagar Trust
Tiruvannamalai
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