Mahaveer Vani #34

Now let us take the sutra:
“He who, even after obtaining beautiful and beloved pleasures, turns his back upon them—who, in every way, freely and autonomously renounces enjoyments—he alone is the true renunciate.”
If pleasures are not present, if there is no means to enjoy, if one lacks the capacity to enjoy—if a man is helpless—then he too can renounce. But Mahavira says: in that, renunciation has no meaning. What is the meaning of renouncing what you cannot enjoy? If one has no facility to enjoy, what is the meaning of his renunciation? Such renunciation carries no meaning.
The entire meaning of renunciation exists only in the context of enjoyment. Hence when an old man takes a vow of brahmacharya, it carries no meaning. The old man is deceiving himself. When a young man takes a vow of brahmacharya, then it has significance. When a dying man gives up food and water—when the doctor has said there are only a few hours left, when it is completely certain that death is at hand—and he abandons food and water, that has no value. But one who, considering life healthy and in full vigor, abandons food and water and waits for death joyously—there is meaning there.
When you renounce out of helplessness, you are deceiving yourself. You may deceive yourself; you cannot deceive the order of existence. So, understand two points well. First: helplessness is not called renunciation; strength is called renunciation. Therefore, before renouncing it is essential to become capable; and only when there is strength at the moment of renunciation does renunciation gain swiftness, radiance, brilliance, ojas. This is why Mahavira shattered the Hindu arrangement—the imagination of varna and of ashrama. And he said: when the energy to enjoy life is at its peak, only then is there transformation. When the whole flow of life is moving toward sexual desire, only then turn back.
When the cartridge is already spent—like a bullet that has already been fired—and then one becomes nonviolent, what meaning is there? A cartridge already discharged now says, “I have taken a vow of ahimsa”—there is no significance in it. Yet this is what we do. Either we lack the facility and so we renounce, or we become incapable of enjoying the facility and thus we renounce.
The point of renunciation is the very point of enjoyment; renunciation and enjoyment are happenings of the same instant. The turn differs, the direction differs—but the instant is one, not two. The direction differs: renunciation goes one way, enjoyment another—but the point from which the journey begins is the same.
Therefore Mahavira says: he who, having attained beautiful and beloved pleasures, still turns his back on them; who, in every way self-sovereign—dependent on no one, subordinate to no one—freely lets go; he does not have to be made to renounce, he simply does. It is his resolve. When renunciation flowers from resolve, strength increases, power grows. When renunciation arises from incapacity, only wretchedness increases.
“He who, out of some dependence, is unable to enjoy clothing, fragrance, ornaments, woman and bed, and the like—he is not called a true renunciate.”
“To serve the Sadguru and experienced elders, to keep away from the company of fools, to study the sat shastras with one-pointed mind, to contemplate their profound meaning, to attain in the mind the steadfast peace that is dhriti—this is the path of nishreyas.”
This sutra has two parts—first, what renunciation is; and second, what is to be done after renunciation. For renunciation is not merely a negation—‘I dropped it, finished.’ By dropping, nothing positive is gained. By dropping, only obstacles are cut away. By dropping, there is no attainment; by dropping, wandering is avoided; by dropping, the wrong journey stops—but the right journey does not begin. Yet many live in this delusion. Many think: “I have left wife, home, wealth—now what more is there to do?” Many of our sadhus live merely in negation, and we too accord value to this negation: “Poor man—he left wife, home, children—what a great renunciate!”
Then what was found? Leaving is fine; then what was gained? Did anything come? And if one leaves the wife but finds nothing superior to the wife, what meaning has the leaving? He who left the wife but gained nothing—the mind will go on running toward the wife. For in existence, emptiness is not tolerated. Nature does not tolerate a vacuum. In the inner life also, emptiness is not tolerated. If in the place of the wife the Divine does not arrive, then the wife will go on peeping into that empty space. There can be many tricks of peeping.
If wealth is abandoned and dharma does not arise within, such a man will become like Trishanku—suspended. Hence our sadhus do leave, but they do not attain. Then they are troubled. And they leave in the hope that leaving itself will bring attainment.
Leaving is necessary, not sufficient.
If I drop something, then at least the mistakes that would have followed from clinging to it will not occur—this is negational. But now something positive must be done. What must be done?
Mahavira says: “Serve the Sadguru and the experienced elders.”
Mahavira speaks very carefully, because he knows well that those who listen, if given the slightest loophole, will use it to escape.
So Mahavira does not say: serve elders—because by being old one does not become wise. By merely becoming old one does not become a knower. Growing old is merely a natural event—what is your contribution in it? Yet the old, having grown old, think they have attained something.
They have only lost; they have not gained. Life has been spent. But they feel that becoming old is itself a gain. They have merely grown old—and in this becoming, what was their hand? They wanted very much not to become old, and still they became old. They tried their best—and still they became old. Now they take this very thing as a virtue—what qualification is this!
Therefore Mahavira says: serve experienced elders.
This is difficult! Elder and experienced—this is a hard condition. All become old; not all become experienced. Experience means: whatever happened in life did not merely happen—something was learned from it.
Now if an old man still becomes angry, know it—he is not experienced. For if through a whole life of anger he could not learn even this much—that anger is futile—then the life has gone to waste. If an old man is still entangled in the same petty matters that children are entangled in, know this: he has grown old, he has not become an elder. He has only aged; the years have ripened—but ripened in the sun, not in experience. And you will be surprised—old people keep doing exactly what children do. Certainly, when old people do it, they do it more “sophisticatedly,” with more method. Children do not do it so methodically. Children are small—playing at doll-marriages. The old take out processions of Rama and Sita. Children are busy adorning their dolls; the elders are adorning Lord Mahavira. Only the dolls have grown bigger; they have not changed. Once they were enjoying doll-marriages; now they take out the wedding procession of Rama and Sita. This is the childishness of the old.
Children were not even so serious; the elders are gravely serious. That is the only difference. And over children’s doll-games there is never a Hindu-Muslim riot; but over the elders’ games, there will be. The old are more troublesome. For whatever they do, they cannot call it play—because they have the experience of age. But they have learned nothing. They stand exactly where they were; their consciousness stands where it was—the body alone has aged.
Hence Mahavira said: experienced elders, and Sadguru.
He did not say merely guru—he added: Sadguru.
What is the difference between guru and Sadguru?
By guru we mean: one who gives you news, information, who explains the shastras. It need not necessarily relate to his own existence—a teacher. By Sadguru we mean: one who himself is the shastra. What he says, he is not saying having heard from someone; it is his own experience, his own realization. Not “the Veda says so,” not “the Gita says so, therefore it must be right.” Not “Mahavira said so, therefore it will surely be right—because Mahavira said it.” He who speaks so is a mere teacher. But one who tests in the fire of his own experience, who sees in his own seeing—and if he ever says, “The Veda has said rightly,” he says so because his experience also says so. The Veda is right not because the Veda says it; the Veda is right because my experience attests it.
Understand this difference.
“The Veda says rightly, therefore my experience is right”—this man is living on borrowed light. “My experience says, therefore the Veda is right—or the Veda is wrong.” Such a man stands at the very source of knowing, seeing with his own eyes. The book becomes secondary; the shastra becomes secondary. For the guru, the shastra is primary; for the Sadguru, the shastra is secondary. The scripture is authoritative because my experience bears witness to it. I am the witness.
Someone asks Jesus, “What do you say about the old scriptures?” Jesus says, “I am the witness.” A very delightful statement. I am the witness. What I say—measure it by that. Whatever accords with my experience, know it to be true. Otherwise, false.
Sadguru means: one who has become sat; who is no longer giving teachings—he himself is the teaching. A guru is a link, a tradition. A guru is doing a job. A Sadguru is a life.
Therefore Mahavira said: “Serve the Sadguru, the experienced elders.”
It is very significant that Mahavira says: apart from service, there is no satsang. For only through service will nearness happen. Only through service will humility arise. Only through service will you bow at the feet. Only through service will inwardness happen. Through service, slowly the ego will melt. And in the presence of a Sadguru, if the disciple’s attitude is one of service, then that event will happen which we call the inner joining. By merely sitting and listening, it will not happen.
Mahavira says: the one from whom you are to learn, whose life you are to absorb within—dive into his service.
Therefore Mahavira accorded great value to service. But this service is very different from what we today call “service.” We too talk of service. The Rotary Club writes “Service” in its emblem. Christian missionaries do service; the Sarvodaya people do service. “Serve the poor, serve the suffering”—this service is a social occurrence. Mahavira’s service is a limb of sadhana. Mahavira is not asking for service of the poor or the suffering.
Mahavira says: serve the experienced elders, the wise, the Sadguru. There is a difference between this and the Rotary Club’s service. The other service is only a social matter. It is good—if someone does it, there is no harm. But Mahavira’s “service” means something else. That service is a part of sadhana—the service of one who has gone ahead of you in the direction of truth. Because when you bow to serve him—and in service, one must bow—when you bow in his service, then the rain that is descending from his heights can enter you. When you place your head at his feet, the ojas that flows in him will touch you, will bathe every pore of your being.
This needs deep thinking, much contemplation. For whenever you serve someone, you must bow. And the one you serve can flow into you.
This is also dangerous. If you serve one who, in terms of consciousness, is lower than you, you will be harmed. If one of higher consciousness, you will benefit; of lower, you will be harmed. Therefore we have said: elders should not serve the young. Therefore we have said: parents should not touch the feet of the son; the son should touch the feet of the parents. Behind this there is only one reason: let the superior flow to the inferior; never let the inferior get conjoined with the superior and distort or pollute it.
In this context let me tell you something important. This is why India did not develop a notion of service like Christianity’s, because India has deep inner experience regarding service. Therefore many in the West are puzzled: “What kind of religions are these in India? No talk of serving the poor, no talk of serving the sick, the ailing, the leprous. They have nothing to say about service—what kind of religions are these?”
Gandhi was deeply influenced by Christianity; he said, “Service is religion.” In this land we never said so—neither Mahavira, nor Buddha. And those who call service religion often lift Mahavira’s words and misinterpret them. When Mahavira uses the word “service,” his purpose is different. We have deliberately not said that service is religion.
We placed the Shudra below and the Brahmin above with the very hope that the Shudra would serve the Brahmin, not the Brahmin the Shudra. In today’s climate this sounds strange: “What is this?” If the Brahmin is a true Brahmin, he should serve the Shudra—for by service he will be a Brahmin. But for us the value of Shudra and Brahmin is not social; it is spiritual. We call him Shudra who lives only in the body, who has no other life. And we call him Brahmin who lives in Brahman, who has no other life. So whoever serves one who lives in Brahman—he will benefit.
Service means: to bow down. And he who bows becomes a hollow, a receptacle. And the hollow gathers the rain. Therefore Mahavira says: serve the Sadguru, the experienced elders.
“Keep away from the company of fools.”
But the company of fools is very pleasing. One advantage is this: among fools you appear intelligent—therefore everyone seeks fools. Until you find two or four fools, you are not intelligent. And there is no other means of intelligence—there is only one: gather two or four fools around you.
Therefore no husband chooses a wife more intelligent than himself. If she is more educated, more understanding, he does not like it—because then he will not get the joy of being intelligent. A foolish wife is preferred. And then naturally, a fool does what a fool does. One can bear it—but the ego enjoys it.
We all strive to gather around us those who are lower than us. It gives a certain taste. A certain pleasure.
What pleasure? The very thing Birbal did before Akbar. A short line was drawn; Birbal drew a longer line beside it. Akbar had said, “Make this line shorter without touching it.” Everyone in court said, “How can we make it shorter without touching it? If it is to be made shorter, it must be touched.” Birbal said, “No need to touch.” He drew a longer line; the first line became smaller.
We are all as clever as Birbal. How to make ourselves intelligent? The straight path: gather shorter lines around you—you become the longer line.
Mahavira says: keep away from the company of fools. Because that company is costly. Your line may appear larger, but those short lines gathered around you will, little by little, make your line smaller still. For you become like those with whom you live. Company is contagious. Those with whom you live slowly begin to change you. It is difficult to escape them. So difficult that not only is it hard to escape those you live with; even from your enemies you cannot escape—for their company too enters within.
Mohammad Ali Jinnah became Governor General. As a Governor General should, he kept an English A.D.C. The English A.D.C. kept advising Jinnah to strengthen his security and to build a high wall around his residence. Jinnah said, “I am not your sort of Governor General. I am a popular leader. Who will kill me? No need for high walls and security. I have no enemies. I am the father of Pakistan. Your Governor General needed a wall because you were our enemies; I have no such need.”
The A.D.C. kept advising, but Jinnah would not agree. The day Gandhi was assassinated, and the news arrived—Jinnah was sitting in his garden. As soon as he heard, he became anxious, disturbed. He rose and said to his A.D.C., “Get the full news—what has happened?” And as he climbed the steps, he turned and said, “All right—make those arrangements you spoke of regarding the wall.”
All his life Jinnah walked bound to what Gandhi did—whether Gandhi said yes or no. Jinnah would give no answer until he knew what Gandhi had said. His entire politics was decided in opposition to Gandhi. It is amusing: his whole life was determined by enmity with Gandhi—and even Gandhi’s death determined him. After that day, never again did Jinnah feel, “I am a popular leader—I need no security.” The wall went up; all arrangements were made.
Strange indeed—that such enmity existed between Gandhi and Jinnah; yet even enmity shapes one another. Friendship creates one another—but enmity also must create, for enmity too is a kind of friendship. Those we live with—or those we oppose—make us.
Therefore Mahavira says: “Keep away from the company of fools; study the sat shastras with one-pointed mind.”
Who is a fool? Not one who knows nothing; he is ignorant, not a fool. It is not proper to call him a fool. Fools are those who know a lot without having known anything. Beware of them.
A man tells you, “God is”—and he has no idea. First ask him, “Do you know?” He knows nothing. Yet he says, “God is.” Another says, “There is no God.” Ask him, “Have you completed the whole inquiry?”
A Christian priest came to see me recently. He said, “God is indefinable—unfathomable, infinite—no one can plumb His depth.” I asked him, “Are you saying this having fathomed it, or without fathoming?” He was a bit embarrassed. I said, “If you have taken the full measure, then to say He is unfathomable is entirely false—because you have already taken the measure. If you say, ‘I have not taken the full measure,’ then say only that much: ‘I have not taken the full measure. Who knows—perhaps one step ahead there is measure!’ How do you assert ‘unfathomable’?
“And you say ‘God cannot be defined’—but that itself is a definition. You have given God one attribute—that He cannot be defined. What are you saying?” Instantly he said, “It is written in the Bible.” I said, “It may be written in the Bible. But do you know?”
There the whole matter sticks. The world is filled with learned idiots—there is no end to them. Educated rustics—no end—and the world is full of them. And note: the uneducated rustics are, by themselves, decreasing—because everyone is becoming educated. To find an uneducated rustic is now difficult. Only educated rustics will be found. Seek one—you will find a thousand.
Mahavira says: “Keep away from the company of fools.”
Those who know nothing and are under the illusion that they know—such people can harm you.
“Study the sat shastras with one-pointed mind.”
Shastras—but let them be sat. Sat means: scriptures whose flavor lies not in pedantry but in truth; not in debate, but in sadhana. Scriptures that are not eager to give you a doctrine or sect, but a science of transforming life. There are scriptures from which you can get theories—and there are scriptures from which you can get the method for life-transformation. The sat shastra is that from which you get method. The asat shastra is that from which you get verbiage. And people learn verbiage—and when the verbiage becomes solid, they forget what they are doing. Whatever you cram into the skull will not bring transformation of the Atman.
Mahavira’s emphasis is: study the sat shastras with a one-pointed mind. Why? Because if, while reading one sat shastra, a man thinks of twenty-five other shastras, the mind will not become one-pointed. When reading Patanjali—forget the whole world. Read only Patanjali. And when reading Mahavira—read only Mahavira; then forget the whole world, forget Patanjali completely. But our trouble is: whatever else we have come to know always stands in between. The mind never becomes one-pointed; and there will be no connection with the shastra unless the mind becomes wholly one-pointed.
Forget the whole world. Then understand: Patanjali is Patanjali; Buddha is Buddha; Mahavira is Mahavira. There is nothing else. Then dive wholly into it. Only through this plunge will life change.
“Contemplate the profound meaning.”
We do not contemplate meanings—we only quarrel with meanings. If you have listened to me, you do not care to ask: what deeper and deeper meanings could there be in what I have said? You do not care. You think you have understood the meaning; there is no question of profundity. Now you consider only whether this meaning is right or wrong. But in relation to truth, by deciding right or wrong nothing will be solved. What has been said—how many layers deeper can one descend, how far can one go?
The speech of ones like Mahavira is not a single layer—it has a thousand layers. Therefore we have emphasized study. We do not say: “Read it and put the book aside.” We say: read again and again. What does it mean to read again and again? It means: yesterday I saw one meaning; today I will read afresh. I will search: could there be another meaning—some deeper meaning? In the speech of those like Mahavira, meanings will keep emerging all your life. The deeper you grow, the deeper meanings you will find. The day you find the final depth within you, that day you will know the final meaning of Mahavira. So do not search meanings in the dictionary; search meanings in the depth within, in the depth of one-pointed meditation.
“Hold in the mind an unwavering peace in the form of dhriti.”
Do not be in haste—for the journey is long. Do not do this: “I read today—finished; I heard today—done.” The journey is long—endless. Proceed with great patience. Wait; be at peace.
“This is the path of nishreyas.”
This is the path to moksha. Drop what is wrong. Seek what is right. And keep infinite patience; keep infinite waiting—labor, sadhana—but with utmost patience, with utmost peace.
Do not think, “Truth will be attained now.” It can be attained now—but for those who are ready to wait for eternity. Even in this instant it can be attained—for if there is the capacity of such patience, “I will wait for eternity,” then it can be now. That very patience becomes the cause of attainment. But we are in a hurry.
People come to me and say, “Two days have passed—we have been meditating—and nothing has been seen yet.”
Incurable! It is difficult to treat them. Two days! Such a long time! If you explain a lot, they will do it for four days! How many births of illness are there? How much rubbish is piled up?
Recently the municipal workers went on strike—how much garbage collected in just two or four days! And how long have you been on strike—do you know?
Pay a little attention—how long have you been on strike? The soul has become nothing but rubbish.
A little patience. A little peace. But one who is ready to drop the false, who has courage to hold to the right—who can be patient, labor, and wait—his prayer certainly is fulfilled one day.
That is all for today.
We will sing kirtan for five minutes…!