HOW I BECAME A HINDU - My Discovery of Vedic Dharma By David Frawley -3

HOW I BECAME A HINDU

My Discovery of Vedic Dharma

By

David Frawley

(Pandit Vamadeva Shastry)

Anandamayi Ma

From 1976 through 1980 I corresponded with the

great woman saint of India, Sri Anandamayi Ma. I

had decided to write her as a friend of mine had

recently done so and received a reply. To my

surprise a letter came back from her within a few

months.

Swamis Atmananda and Nirvananda helped with

my communications. I planned to visit Ma in India

but somehow could not get the resources together

to bring it about. I also wrote a few articles for their

magazine Ananda Varta. Contact with Ma inspired

me more into a Vedantic and Hindu mold.

Her energy would come in waves, almost like an

electrical force, encouraging me to deeper

practices. Ma’s energy opened up devotional

potentials for me, not merely for the Goddess but

also for Shiva and Rama. I began to look into

Bhakti Yoga, chanting and devotional meditation.

Images of Hindu deities appeared in my mind.

Under Ma’s inspiration I began a more serious

study of Vedic teachings. About this time I also

received a copy of the Yajur Veda from India,

which I found, to my surprise since even

Aurobindo hadn’t talked of it, to be as inspiring as

the Rig Veda. The power of the mantras continued

to unfold and new Vedic vistas arose.

About the same time I discovered the teachings of

Swami Rama Tirtha, who lived at the turn of the

century and was another great Vedantin. I felt a

special inner kinship to Swami Rama, who was a

poetic, inspirational and independent figure.

I felt that Ma’s grace led me to him, as the Ram

mantra often came to me while I was in contact

with her. Swami Rama was another major guide

and teacher in my life. Most importantly he

connected me with the world of nature through his

towering Himalayan spirit and his indomitable

will.

Writing on the Vedas

Then in summer of 1978 my Vedic work, which

would dominate the rest of my life, first emerged. I

was inspired by some inner energy to write a set of

poems about the ancient dawns and the ancient

suns that directed me back to the Vedas. I decided

to study the Vedas in depth in the original

Sanskrit. wanted to directly confirm if Sri

Aurobindo’s view was correct that the Vedas did

have a deeper spiritual and Vedantic meaning.

I had studied a Sanskrit through the years and

already had Sanskrit texts of the Vedas and

Upanishads to start with. I remember my early

encounters with Vedic texts. Sometimes they

seemed primitive or even violent in their language.

I thought that either the Vedic rishis were not true

sages or that something was fundamentally in

wrong in how we have interpreted their teachings.

Rather than simply dismissing the Vedas as

primitive I decided to question the perspective.

I found that most people were looking at the Vedas

through the eyes of Western intellectual thought

or, at best, with a Vedantic or Buddhist logic. I

realized that the Vedas were not written according

to either of these views and required a very

different approach. It is not enough merely to

translate the Vedas; one has to recreate the

background the Vedas came from, in which context

they were fresh and alive. The Vedas presumed a

certain state of mind on the part of those who

studied them.

Like a treatise on high energy physics that requires

a knowledge of elementary physics to approach,

the Vedas were designed for people who already

had a sense of the Vedic language and its

implications. Without recreating that Vedic

background merely to translate the Vedas only

invites misinterpretation.

I decided to try to recreate that background. The

result was that I discovered deeper meaning to

teachings that appeared as little more than

primitive rituals to others. Because of my

background in poetic symbolism the Vedas made

perfect sense to me. The Sun, day, dawn, fire, and

ocean were archetypes of inner processes. So were

such animal images as the bull, cow, horse or

falcon. I didn’t view Vedic images according to the

standard of Vedantic or Buddhist logic, looking for

some subtle abstract dialectic, from which angle

they would appear crude.

I saw them as analogical keys to the workings of

the universe. I began creating a system to unlock

the greater meaning of the Vedic language. I

developed a strategy. I decided that the best way to

proceed was to trace the Vedic vision back from

the Upanishads, which were still relatively

transparent in meaning, to the Vedas – to use the

Upanishads as a door back in time.

Most people started the Hindu tradition with the

Upanishads and took them as its foundation. They

saw the emergence of the exalted philosophy of

Vedanta in the Upanishads and took that as the

essence of the tradition. Following Aurobindo I

realized that the Upanishads were a transitional

literature. While they created the basis for what

came later, they also reflected the essence of what

was done earlier.

While they opened the door forward on the

classical Hindu-Buddhist world, they closed the

door backward on the more mysterious Vedic age.

I began intensely working on the early

Upanishads, in what eventually became my first

published book in India, the Creative Vision of the

Early Upanishads. I correlated various

Upanishadic passages that either quoted from the

earlier Vedas or paraphrased them.

I found that many Upanishadic verses came

directly from the earlier Vedas, which most

translators and commentators didn’t seem to

know. The same verse occurring in the Upanishads

would be given a spiritual meaning, while in the

Vedas it was taken as merely ritualistic, if not

primitive! I used this Upanishadic usage of Vedic

verses to give an Upanishadic meaning to the

Vedic hymns.

I felt that if the Upanishads could use Vedic type

verses for expressing Self-realization, all the verses

of the Vedas should have a similar potential. I took

the very portions of the early Upanishads usually

rejected as ritualistic and reinterpreted them from a

spiritual angle, in light of the rules of symbolic

language. I was particularly affected by the

Chandogya Upanishad, which comes from the

Sama Veda or the Veda of song.

The book itself would seem to sing or to chant to

me. I would merely look at the book and start to

hear the Vedic students of old raising their voices

to the Divine. Something of the Vedic shakti came

through it along with a connection to the ancient

seers, their families and their practices. I learned to

look back from Advaita Vedanta through the

Upanishadsinto the mantras of the Rig Veda,

seeing how the path of Self-realization was there in

the earliest hymns.

Like Aurobindo I could appreciate the Vedic

mantras as a pure spiritual experience that later

became reduced to mere ritual when the inner

meaning of the symbols forgotten. The Vedic

mantras also served to open the entire ancient

spiritual world for me, affording a sense of the

deeper meaning of Egyptian or Mayan symbols as

well.

The Vedic language came alive and showed its

meaning to me. I found a Vedantic or adhyatmic

vision in nearly all the Vedic mantras, but most

Vedantins do not see this. Shankaracharya, the

great Vedantic commentator, did not make

Vedantic comments on the Vedic mantras but only

on the Upanishads, and only on small portions of

the early Upanishads. He divided the Vedas into

the Karma Kanda or section of works and the

Jnana Kanda or section of knowledge. He placed

the Vedic mantras and Brahmanas in the former

section and only the Upanishads in the latter.

This to me was like consigning all the Vedas except

the Upanishads to the domain of mere ritual,

which was effectively to dismiss the bulk of Vedic

literature, not to connect with their great power

and legacy. This Vedantic dismissing of the Vedas

gave the impression that the Vedic rishis did not

have the knowledge or the realization of the

Upanishadic sages. This was odd because the

Upanishadic sages quoted the Vedic rishis to

support their knowledge. I looked at the matter

differently. Like Aurobindo I felt that there was a

way of Self-realization in the Rig Veda. Shankara’s

division of the Vedas into Jnana Kanda and Karma

Kanda was a matter of convenience and not the last

word.

He spoke to an audience that was unable to see the

deeper meaning of the Vedic mantras but could

understand the logic of Vedanta. The more

accurate view is that the Vedas contain both

knowledge and ritual and the Vedic mantras can

be interpreted in either sense. The Brahmanas are

mainly ritualistic, while the Upanishads emphasize

knowledge, but the Samhita or mantra portion of

the Vedas can be looked at in either sense.

M.P. Pandit

After finishing this Vedic study I had no idea what

to do with it. Fortunately, through a personal

friend I came into contact with M.P. Pandit, the

secretary of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. I had long

admired Pandit’s many books on the Vedas,

Tantra, Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. Pandit was

perhaps the foremost scholar of Indian spirituality,

not from an academic view but from a real

understanding and inner experience that spanned

the entire tradition.

If anyone could appreciate what I was doing, it

was he. I first visited Pandit in San Francisco in the

summer of 1979. I brought my writings on the

Vedas and Upanishads and explained my

approach to him. What I received from him in

return went far beyond my expectations. Pandit

was a calm and concentrated person, with a

penetrating vision.

He listened carefully before making any

comments. Instead of trying to influence me he

was quite receptive and open to what I was

attempting. I told him that I was not an academic

but doing the work from an inner motivation and

an intuitive view.

He said that it was better that I was not an

academic because I would not repeat their same

old mistakes and could gain a fresh view of the

subject. Pandit strongly encouraged me to continue

my work, offering his full support. He called my

Vedic work my "Divine mission," that I should

follow out. He said both to my surprise and my

honor that he would get my writings published in

India.

This greatly increased my enthusiasm in what I

was doing, which up to that point appeared to be

some obscure personal study, perhaps relevant to

no one. He asked me to mail him some of my

writings in India as he would be returning to India

in a few months.

Over the next few months I wrote a new book on

the Rig Veda called Self-realization and the Super

mind in the Rig Veda and sent it to him. The

manuscript was over five hundred pages long and

consisted of translations and interpretations of

many different Suktas, particularly those to Indra. I

had worked on it day and night during that period.

He serialized the book first in World Union and

later in the Advent, major Sri Aurobindo Ashram

journals from 1980-1984. Later I sent Pandit various

chapters of the Shukla Yajur Veda, which I

similarly translated and interpreted in a spiritual

(adhyatmic) light. This he had serialized in Sri

Aurobindo’s Action. Pandit also got my book

Creative Vision of the Early Upanishads published

in India.

His help was crucial in establishing my work as a

writer in the Vedic field, without which it would

have been probably consigned to my desk Along

with Pandit came the additional gift of the grace of

the Mother of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. After

contacting Pandit I could also feel the Mother’s

energy and presence around me.

She was close by and would quickly appear to my

inner vision, guiding me in various ways. Even

today I can feel her nearby my consciousness

whenever I think of her. This was not something I

cultivated but came of its own accord.

J. Krishnamurti and the Question of Tradition

Another important, but rather opposite spiritual

influence, at the time was J. Krishnamurti. In

California I happened to end up for a few years at

Ojai, the town where Krishnamurti gave his yearly

talks, which I attended regularly. I became familiar

with the Krishnamurti community and made

friends with several older members of the group,

most who were ex-Theosophists.

Krishnamurti’s thoughts had a logic that appealed

to my revolutionary and anti-authority mentality.

He was a kind of spiritual anarchist. Though he

was in favor of meditation and the spiritual life, he

was against gurus and structured practices. Yet

given my connections with the Vedas and Vedanta

I couldn’t accept his wholesale rejection of

tradition and technique, or his criticism of mantra.

Krishnamurti was, on one hand, a typically selfalienated

Indian intellectual criticizing his own

culture. But, on the other hand, he possessed a

genuine meditative mind in harmony with the

same tradition, a strange contradiction but one that

was appealing to people who could not relate to

traditions.

He had important teachings on perception and on

the workings of the mind and emotions that added

much depth to my meditation. Krishnamurti

wanted to create a teaching that was universal, that

was not culturally limited or conditioned, and did

not require any identity in order to follow. While

this was a noble endeavor it failed to note the

organic nature of life.

In refusing to align with any tradition his teaching

became limited to perhaps the most limited factor.

It became a one man teaching or one-man tradition

– a Krishnamurti teaching. All tradition is not bad.

Otherwise we should leave our infants in the

woods and let them raise themselves without

authority, tradition or interference. We all follow

various traditions in life. We are part of a society

and a collective evolution.

We as individuals don’t invent our own language,

much less our own spiritual teachings. We have to

take the good that the collective culture gives us

and carry it further along.An authoritarian

tradition that does not allow open questioning but

projects a dogma as truth is certainly harmful.

But a cultural tradition that promotes spirituality

and creativity is very helpful. For example, a

musical tradition provides the instruments and

tools for musicians to grow. Spiritual traditions can

be helpful springboards for self-realization. The

problem arises when their tools are applied

mechanically, which is unfortunately too often the

case.

Real knowledge has a tradition and an authority,

just as there is in science, but it is a matter of direct

experience, not of mere belief. This is the basis of

the real Vedic tradition. One important thing I did

learn from Krishnamurti was not to blindly follow

anyone who called himself a guru.

Later I learned that it is particularly dangerous to

follow a guru who does not represent or have the

sanction of any real tradition. The Vedic view

allows thinking and debate and can even accept a

Krishnamurti who rejects the tradition for his

insights on meditation.

Into the Vedic Work – Ayurveda and Vedic

Astrology

Ayurveda became my main vehicle for expressing

Vedic knowledge to a modern and Western

audience. This also occurred according to a certain

chance or synchronicity. I moved to Santa Fe, New

Mexico in early 1983, where I focused on the study

of herbs and natural medicine that I had already

been engaged in for some time as part of my

seeking for a dharmic livelihood.

The alternative medicine movement was beginning

in a big way. But I didn’t know that an Indian

Ayurvedic doctor was then teaching the first

Ayurvedic programs in the United States in Santa

Fe. I was introduced to him by chance. His school

was interested in having someone teach Sanskrit, a

role that I found out about and took up. In turn I

began an intense study of Ayurveda. This led to

my teaching and writing in the field and helping

create study programs and classes.

Along a parallel line I had taken up the study of

Vedic astrology. I first studied astrology in Ojai in

the early seventies, which with a Theosophical

center had good resources on the subject.

I also discovered a few good books on Vedic

astrology. I practiced Western astrology for several

years, using Vedic astrology as a sidelight, but

gradually shifted over to the Vedic system. Along

with my Ayurvedic work in the mid-eighties I

focused on Vedic astrology, introducing classes

and courses in it as well, starting with Ayurveda

students.

In such diverse endeavors I wasn’t following a

particular plan but simply pursuing my interests

that often seemed scattered or disconnected.

Several times I tried to reduce one or more areas of

involvement so as to concentrate my energies, but

circumstances kept me active in all these different

fields. Later I would discover that the Vedic vision

could integrate such disparate subjects and was

behind my involvement with all of them.

With Ayurveda and Vedic astrology I discovered a

practical usage of Vedic knowledge that was

relevant to everyone. The gap between my Vedic

work and my actual career began to disappear. My

Vedic work and my livelihood became interrelated.

I focused on Ayurveda and Vedic astrology for a

few years and put my Vedic pursuits temporarily

in the background.

INDIA AND HINDUISM,

THE SPIRITUAL TRADITION

India and Hinduism

I had studied Hindu teachings and corresponded

with ashrams and teachers in India for many years.

I had written articles for journals in India since

1978 and books from 1982. Bu I hadn’t actually

been to India, though I almost made it twice. One

of my Hindu teachers in America remarked,

"David didn’t go to India, India came to him."

In 1987 I traveled to China and Tibet as part of my

study of Chinese medicine. A few months later, I

took a second trip to Asia and finally made it to

India. Though, perhaps belatedly, visiting India

was an important and transformative experience,

marking another era in my life. After that first visit

I continued to go back to India on a yearly basis.

My first trip to India occurred as part of my

pursuit of Ayurveda. It involved visiting

Ayurvedic schools and companies in Bombay and

Nagpur, and sightseeing to other parts of the

country. I also had two important visits of a

spiritual nature, first to Pondicherry and the Sri

Aurobindo Ashram, and second to the

Ramanashram in nearby Tiruvannamalai, a pattern

that was repeated in future visits to the country.

Sri Aurobindo and Pondicherry

My visit to Pondicherry and the Sri Aurobindo

Ashram reconnected me with Sri Aurobindo and

the Mother. There is definitely a strong shakti

present in the town, the Mother’s force that is

almost palpable. It came over me like a wave and

took me out of my ordinary consciousness,

sometimes for hours on end. It literally flattened

me, putting me in a state in which I didn’t want to

move. Sri Aurobindo’s force was also there,

particularly at his samadhi shrine, in which I could

feel and experience his life and teachings. But the

Mother’s shakti permeated the entire city and

never left one.

Pondicherry provided the opportunity to visit with

M.P. Pandit, who I had not seen since he stopped

coming to the West a few years earlier. I had kept

in touch with him by correspondence and he had

reviewed my various books that had come out in

the meantime.

One day I was attending one of Pandit’s weekly

meditations that followed his weekly talks.

Suddenly I started to breathe deeply and felt my

consciousness open up to a higher plane. The

vision of the Mother of the ashram unfolded a the

White Goddess Tara, a figure of great beauty, light

and compassion. Tibetan monks were doing chants

to her and seeking to project her energy in order to

help save the human race from the ignorance and

illusion in which it was mired. They were

meditating upon suffering humanity and using the

Mother’s force to uplift people.

The history of humanity unfolded before my inner

eye, how as children of Manu or the mind, we have

an inherent ignorance that keeps us trapped in

duality and sorrow. This ignorance at the core of

our minds has become the matrix of our culture

which, therefore, is caught in dichotomy,

contradiction and disintegration. Until we move

beyond this limited mental consciousness we must

repeat the same old errors and live in the same

uncertainty.

Yet beyond all this suffering the Mother revealed a

new and higher plan of creation, a model for a new

human being beyond the old mortal conditioning

of lust, fear and hatred. This being lived in

harmony with nature in an almost paradise

situation but as a future potential, not as a fact of

the Earth life, which would require much time and

effort to manifest it. The Mother kept echoing the

need for a new creation for which she was

projecting the seeds and scattering the flowers all

over the world.

I gradually returned to the ordinary state of

consciousness as the meditation came to an end. As

I left the house Pandit offered me a flower, a white

jasmine dear to the Mother, as said "for a new

creation." While I have done much work with the

ancient Vedas it is not only for the past, but also for

the future – going back to the human origins in

order to create a new humanity in harmony with

the Divine dawns and embodying the Divine light.

The Ramanashram: Encounter with Lord Skanda

Ramana Maharshi is probably the most famous

enlightened sage of modern India, the very

personification of the Atman, a pure unbounded

Self-realization, even though he did nothing to

gain recognition for himself. He has great appeal to

a rational and modern mind willing to transcend

name, form and culture. Yet what I discovered at

his ashram and in the psychic environment of the

town and hill was something different and

unexpected.

I came to the Ramanashram to contact Ramana and

his path of Self-inquiry, which is a method to

experience the non-dual state of pure awareness.

What I actually discovered was the God Skanda,

the child of fire, who demanded purification, death

and spiritual rebirth. I encountered one of the

Gods, not as a devotional or cultural image but as a

primordial and awesome power. Ramana came to

me through Lord Skanda, the son of Shiva, with

whom Ganapati Muni identified him. I came to

understand Ramana as Lord Skanda, the

embodiment of the flame of knowledge.

Coming into Tiruvannamalai I felt the presence of

a tremendous spiritual fire, which also had, in its

more benefic moments, the face of a young boy.

The image of a small boy carrying a spear, rising

out of a fire, kept arising in my mind. This brought

about an intense practice of Self-inquiry that was

literally like death, though it was the ego’s death,

not that of the body.

Going through that fire was perhaps the most

intense spiritual experience of my life, to the point

that I had at time to pray that it would not become

too strong! Yet afterwards I felt refreshed and

cleansed, with a purity of perception that was

extraordinary.

Up to that point I had a limited understanding of

the role of deities in spiritual practice. I had almost

no knowledge of Lord Skanda, though he is a

popular deity in South India and one sees his

picture everywhere. I had not yet grasped the

depth of his connection with Ramana. So I was

shocked to come into a direct contact with such an

entity, not as a mere fantasy but as a concrete and

vivid inner experience penetrating to the core of

my being. That the process of Self-inquiry, which

starts out as a philosophical practice, could be

aligned to a deity in which my personality was

swallowed up, was not something that I had noted

in any teachings.

In time I learned much about both Skanda and

Ramana. Skanda is the incarnation of the power of

direct insight. He is the Self that is born of Selfinquiry

which is like a fire, the inner child born of

the death of the ego on the cremation pyre of

meditation. This child represents the innocent

mind, free of ulterior motives, which alone can

destroy all the demons, our negative conditionings,

with his spear of discrimination beyond the

fluctuations of the mind. Coming to

Tiruvannamalai was an experience of that inner

fire (tejas) which is Skanda and Ramana.

I felt Lord Skanda most keenly at the great temple

of Arunachaleshwara in the nearby town. Initially

the experience of the temple was more important

for me than the experience of the ashram.

Arunachaleshwara temple still holds the vibration

of Ramana, who was its child, where he stayed and

practiced tapas when young and unknown. The

temple has its own Divine presence that has

nourished many great sages and yogis.

The Devi (Goddess) at the temple functions as the

mother of Ramana and Skanda and the mother of

all true seekers. The great Shiva linga, similarly, is

like Ramana’s father. The deities in the temple

came alive as the parents of Lord Skanda, who was

not only Ramana, but also my own inner child of

immortality. I felt the strongest energy and

unfoldment in the Mother temple. The story of the

birth of the Goddess Uma, her tapas in the

Himalayas, her marriage with Lord Shiva, and the

birth of Lord Skanda began to unfold in my

meditations as a symbol of the process of Self

realization. The myth became real, while our

human lives became mere shadows. The realms of

these deities (Devalokas) emerged as states of

meditation or planes of awareness.

One day at the temple I decided to purchase a

statue to take back home for my altar. I found a

small statue of Lord Skanda that I bought and put

into my nap sack. One of the Brahmin priests in the

temple noted my acquisition and asked for the

statue, which I gave to him. He took my hand and

led me through the temple, doing the puja to the

main deities. He started with the Devi temple and

then to the Shiva linga and finally to the Skanda

temple. My statue was placed on all these murtis

and was consecrated as part of the pujas. It was as

if I myself was reborn as Skanda during these rites.

The Goddess

The figure of the Goddess appeared strong in my

poetry since a child, but it was in India that I came

to really experience her, first at the Tiruvannamalai

temple and at the Ramanashram, but later at many

places in the country. I have always felt myself to

be a child of the Goddess.

Once while I was meditating at the ashram the

Devi appeared to me in a form of Durga called

Mahishasuramardini holding various ornaments

and weapons. She offered these to me and placed

them in my mind. I was puzzled at first and

wondered what I was supposed to do with them. I

later came to know that they were some of the

different teachings and practices that she bestowed

on her devotees. I remember feeling them in my

mind when I was on the plane to the USA as if all

the Gods and Goddesses were riding back with

me.

One needs many tools in order to be successful in

one’s spiritual work. Many obstacles lie along the

way, which require different methods to overcome.

These divine weapons help us break through them.

The divine ornaments give beauty to charm

difficulties away. Such tools proved helpful, if not

crucial through time. Rather than struggling with

problems, I call upon the weapons of the Goddess

to deal with them.

I later realized that Durga was the form of the

Goddess connected with Bharat Mata or Mother

India, who took the form of Durga riding her lion.

Later I came to understand that her blessing was a

presage of my later journalistic work in the

country, which I had no idea about at the time. The

weapons and ornaments were mantric tools to do

this work.

It was if I had become one of the Divine Mother’s

warriors. These I first experienced in the form of

the Vedic Maruts or Wind Gods, the sons of Rudra-

Shiva and the companions of Indra. Later I would

realize their connection with the deity Hanuman

who is also the son of the Wind God and the head

of the divine army. I joined the Mother Durga’s

army, though not knowingly at first.

Sadhu on the Hill

One day during one of my several trips to the

ashram I decided to climb the great hill of

Arunachala. It is a moderate hike of about two

hours. That particular day was a little cloudy so the

heat was not unbearable. After I reached the top of

the hill I stopped to meditate for a few minutes.

There one finds the remains of the fires, the bricks

and pottery, which are burned yearly on the full

moon of the month of Karttika, which is sacred to

Lord Skanda.

While sitting by these I suddenly saw an old figure

dressed in orange taking very wide strides and

coming up the hill. He stopped in a few places and

picked a few berries from the sparse vegetation.

Then he came to within about fifty feet and looked

at me, giving the siddha gesture with his hand. At

that instant the whole of space opened up behind

me. I could feel the infinite void extending in all

directions and my entire life felt like a bubble

within it. It was like a moment out of time. Then he

continued with his wide strides and went to the

other side of the hill and disappeared.

I am not certain who the sadhu was. He did not

look like Ramana but more like a old wandering

Swami. Ramana said that Siddhas dwelled on the

hill. I could say from my experience that this was

the case. India still has such mysterious figures that

one can contact, sense or intuit at times. That is

part of the blessing of visiting the land.

Ganapati Muni and Sri Natesan

My mind had been in a curious dilemma for

several years. On one hand, I had a strong

connection with Ramana Maharshi. On the other

hand, I had an equally strong connection with Sri

Aurobindo whose teaching was very different.

Though I held Ramana as the ideal, my own work

and writings made more sense in terms of Sri

Aurobindo's teaching.

This dilemma began to resolve itself in an

unexpected way. I studied the works of Kapali

Shastri, the guru of M.P. Pandit, who wrote

extensively on the Vedas from Sri Aurobindo’s

point of view. Many of my comments on the

Upanishads that I had written were echoed in

Kapali’s work. I eventually discovered that Kapali,

prior to connecting with Aurobindo had been a

disciple of Ramana Maharshi. He was responsible

for many of the Sanskrit works on Ramana under

the pseudonym K.

Kapali was the chief disciple of Ganapati Muni,

who was perhaps the chief disciple of Ramana.

Ganapati had first discovered Ramana as a young

boy then called Brahma Swami, because he was a

Brahmin boy. He renamed him Ramana and

Bhagavan. Ganapati wrote several important

Sanskrit works on the Maharshi and also put

Ramana’s teachings into Sanskrit, which Kapali as

his disciple commented on.

I decided to search out the works of Ganapati

Muni, particularly on the Vedas, as he was reputed

to be a Vedic scholar as well. I asked M.P. Pandit

about Ganapati and whether his Vedic work was

important. He said that there was little about the

Vedas in the scattered works of Ganapati, though

Ganapati did accept an exalted status for the Vedic

mantras. I asked at the Ramanashram about

Ganapati and his Vedic works but at first nothing

came of it.

In 1992, I came in contact with K. Natesan, who in

his eighties, was one of the oldest living disciples

of Ganapati and Ramana. When Natesan

discovered my interest in Ganapati he revealed his

great secret. He had collected Ganapati’s work for

decades. Besides copies of Ganapati's printed

works, most of which were out of print; he had

painstakingly transcribed Ganapati’s handwritten

manuscripts and gathered nearly all of them. He

had much material that even M.P. Pandit never

knew about, including extensive works on the

Vedas by Ganapati. He happily made copies of all

these works for me and I took them back home to

America to study. Natesan guided me to Ganapati

and became a source of his grace and his influence.

In Ganapati’s works I found an approach to the

Vedas in harmony with my deepest thoughts. The

emphasis on Indra that I had already developed in

my writings was also there in his Thousand Names

of Indra. He understood Agni as Skanda and as

Ramana, which made perfect sense to me. I also

began to come into contact with Ganapati on a

subtle level, feeling an inner rapport and

transmission of knowledge. It was as if he was

speaking to me in my own mind.

Ganapati was a Vedic scholar, a Tantric yogi, an

Ayurvedic doctor and a Vedic astrologer, as well as

an active social thinker and reformer – covering the

same basic range of fields that I had and at a much

deeper level. He even researched the history of the

Vedas and the Mahabharata. He was probably the

greatest Sanskrit poet and writer of this century.

His greatest work, Uma Sahasram, has a thousand

verses and forty chapters each down flawlessly in a

different Sanskrit meter. I recognized him as a

model for what I was attempting in all aspects of

my work. He also presented an approach that

balanced my connection with both Aurobindo and

Ramana. Through Ganapati I was able to bridge

the gap between the two. No doubt a secret affinity

with him was behind the position that I had taken.

Natesan has remained as an important friend and

mentor, helping me on several levels inwardly and

outwardly. He has continued to pass on special

teachings over the years, not only from Ganapati

but also from Ramana and from Sri Aurobindo, as

he remains in contact with both ashrams. Ganapati

came to me through Natesan and became a

personal example for me to follow. He shared my

same varied interests and integrated them as part

of his greater spiritual path.

The Goddesses and Bhakti Yoga

Ganapati’s work contained an extensive teaching

on the Dasha Mahavidya or ten great knowledge

forms of the Goddesses. I wrote about this subject

in my book Tantric Yoga and the Wisdom

Goddesses, using Ganapati's teachings. Ganapati

was also closely connected to Uma, Renuka,

Chinnamasta and many other forms of the

Goddess. His teachings took me deeper into Devi

worship. Using various Goddess mantras has been

central to my yogic practice. Most of these mantras

have come from Ganapati and Natesan. Mantra

after all is the form of the Goddess.

Bhakti Yoga became progressively more important

for me. Its value can be described with a simple

metaphor: knowledge (jnana) is the flame and the

mind is the wick, but bhakti is the oil. Without

bhakti spiritual knowledge burns out the mind,

like a flame does a wick without oil.

I discovered that the Vedas are primarily books on

Bhakti Yoga, quite contrary to a modern scholarly

belief that Bhakti Yoga originated from a later

Islamic or Christian influence in medieval India.

The Vedas worship the Divine in all the forms of

nature including human (Gods like Indra), animal

(vehicles of the gods like the bull and the horse),

plant (the sacred ashwattha tree and Soma plant),

elemental (like fire and water), and cosmic (like the

sun).

The Vedas worship the Divine in all the forms of

nature including human (Gods like Indra), animal

(vehicles of the gods like the bull and the horse),

plant (the sacred ashwattha tree and Soma plant),

elemental (like fire and water), and cosmic (like the

sun). They explain all attitudes of devotion

honoring the Divine as the father, mother, brother,

sister, friend, son, daughter, child and master. The

whole Vedic concept of namas or surrender to the

Gods is itself the essence of Bhakti. The Rig Veda

also frequently mentions the sacred or secret

Divine Names, showing that chanting the names of

God and meditation upon them was always central

to the Vedic path.

This stream of Bhakti has kept Hinduism alive and

flowering throughout the ages from the Rig Veda

to the Mahabharata and the Puranas, from the

Alvars and Nayanars in the south to Tulsidas and

Mirabai in the north of the country. Bhakti is the

real heart of Hinduism. It is a Divine love founded

not on dogma or sin but on the very exuberance of

life itself, which is ever seeking transcendence and

greater awareness. From baby Krishna, to Rama

with his bow, to Durga on her lion it has touched

all the themes of life with great feeling, personal

intimacy and poignancy.

I learned to chant various stotras to the Gods and

Goddesses, particularly those of Shankaracharya,

who produced many wonderful ones, which

became a regular practice for me. J. Jayaraman, the

librarian at the Ramanashram and both a great

sadhu and musician aided me in this pursuit.

Without dipping into the waters of devotion, I find

that my intellectual work is not fulfilling. Often I

spend my evenings in devotional practices after

days of more mental work. This devotion is mainly

to the Goddess but includes the whole range of

Vedic and Hindu deities, including Indra, Agni,

Shiva, Rama, Hanuman and Ganesha.

Brahmarshi Daivarata

A few years later while giving a talk at the

Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan in Mumbai I was given a

curious present, a book called Chandodarshana by

Daivarata, another important disciple of Ganapati

Muni and Ramana Maharshi. The Bhavan

members didn’t know of my connection with

Ganapati, so it was a coincidence. I later received

Vak Sudha, another work of Daivarata as well.

Daivarata followed Ganapati’s vision but unlike

Kapali remained close to Ramana and did not join

Aurobindo. He developed a Vedic view based

upon Ganapati’s ideas, including his own direct

vision of new Vedic mantras much like the Rishis

of old. He also worshipped the Goddess,

particularly as Sarasvati and Tara.

I learned later that Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

brought Daivarata to the West in the early

seventies as a living example of a modern Vedic

Rishi with the full knowledge of the Vedas and the

power of its mantras. I found great inspiration in

his work. Daivarata like Ganapati entered into my

psyche as a key part of the new Vedic renaissance.

The Himalayas

Hinduism is the spirit of the Himalayas. It is a

vision fostered by these lofty subtropical

mountains and their abundant rivers that combine

both height and depth, both austerity and

abundance.

Haridwar at the doorway to the Himalayas is the

conduit, from which the spiritual force of the

mountain yogis spreads its influence into the

plains, eventually reaching all the way down to

Kanya Kumari at the tip of South India. The Ganga

brings blessings not only to the areas along her

banks but to the entire subcontinent. Feeling this

spiritual current from the Himalayan heights

added another dimension to my appreciation of

the Vedic teachings.

During my first visit to Rishikesh we stayed at a

place called Vedbhavan or the house of the Vedas.

It was one of the oldest centers for Vedic rituals in

the area, but had closed down its Vedic program in

1966 when the rich industrialists of the country

ceased to lend their support for it. By chance I

found myself at an old pillar of Vedic ritual.

The Himalayas

Hinduism is the spirit of the Himalayas. It is a

vision fostered by these lofty subtropical

mountains and their abundant rivers that combine

both height and depth, both austerity and

abundance.

Haridwar at the doorway to the Himalayas is the

conduit, from which the spiritual force of the

mountain yogis spreads its influence into the

plains, eventually reaching all the way down to

Kanya Kumari at the tip of South India. The Ganga

brings blessings not only to the areas along her

banks but to the entire subcontinent. Feeling this

spiritual current from the Himalayan heights

added another dimension to my appreciation of

the Vedic teachings.

During my first visit to Rishikesh we stayed at a

place called Vedbhavan or the house of the Vedas.

It was one of the oldest centers for Vedic rituals in

the area, but had closed down its Vedic program in

1966 when the rich industrialists of the country

ceased to lend their support for it. By chance I

found myself at an old pillar of Vedic ritual.

Suvir Sharma, who now owned the place, was the

last of that Vedic line raised to do Vedic chants and

rituals. We listened as he chanted different Vedic

styles from the Rig Veda to the Sama Veda. But

unfortunately this tradition, like so many in India,

appears nearing extinction. The demands of this

commercial age have no real place for communing

with the cosmic powers or for a life of ritual and

chanting.

Uttar Kashi higher up from Rishikesh is the place

where Shiva and Shakti unite. It has a special bliss

and energy. There one can feel the power of the

yogis and the presence of a culture of

consciousness beyond the mundane world. In the

Himalayas further up from there still reside many

great and enigmatic yogis who will have nothing

to do with the world. They preserve the spiritual

heart of Hinduism, which so far remains in tact

though perhaps in retreat. One can still meet with

them and gain their grace if one makes the effort.

Shankaracharyas

In the early nineties I came into contact with

Tattvaloka, the journal of Sringeri Shankaracharya

Math, through its editor T.R. Ramachandran, who

took me on a special visit to Sringeri.

Sringeri is a hill station in Karnataka. It took

several hours by car from the airport at Mangalore

where we flew in. I was surprised to find the main

center that the great Shankaracharya founded

located in such a remote region. Clearly Shankara

was more concerned with tapas than with gaining

public acclaim. He was not creating a new religion

that needed to convert the masses but a way of

meditation in which we must work on ourselves.

This is the Vedantic spirit, which one can still feel

strongly at Sringeri. Self-development is the key to

the Vedic spiritual path, not proselytizing.

I also came into contact with another

Shankaracharya Math in Kanchipuram, a couple

hours southwest of Chennai. Kanchipuram was

one of the seven sacred cities of classical India and

has many great temples.

Chandrashekhar Saraswati, the Shankaracharya at

that time, was nearly a hundred years old and the

grand old teacher of Hinduism. Fortunately I

received his darshan twice before his death. He

blessed the rudraraksha mala that is the main one

that I use today. His work provides an excellent

introduction to Hinduism, particularly in a

Vedantic context.

A few years later through the intercession of the

next Shankaracharya in the line, Jayendra

Saraswati, I was able to visit the Kanchi Kamakshi

temple and have a darshan of the Devi there, for

which westerners were usually not allowed. Such

teachers continue to uphold Hindu dharma and

maintain millennial traditions for the benefit of

future generations.

Alandi – Swami Ram Das

Alandi near Pune in Maharashtra had a similar

high spiritual vibration like the temple cities of

South India and the Tirthas of the North. There

Jnanadeva who wrote the famous Jnanesvar

commentary on the Bhagavad Gita was enshrined.

He voluntarily went underground at the age of

twenty one and never reappeared. The temple

marks the tree beneath which he is said to be

buried and will some day return from. Meditating

there was a powerful experience and connected

one with the great saints of Maharashtra, who did

much to maintain Hinduism through the difficult

period of Islamic rule.

Later I came into contact with the Samartha Ram

Das order, from the great teacher who had been the

guru of the Shivaji, the Maratha king who aroused

the Hindus to revolt against the oppressive Mogul

rule of the country. The Maratha power reclaimed

most of India before the British conquered the

country.

In time I had many such pilgrimages and

experiences throughout India. These are just a few

typical examples.

 

Om Tat Sat
                                                        
(Continued...) 

(My humble Thankfulness to Brahmasree David Frawley (Pandit Vamadeva Shastry)  for the collection)